Jun 4 2009, 1:53 pm
The Real Mediterranean Diet
Aglaia Kremezi and I share an interest in Fage yogurt--except hers is familial, mine obsessive.
When I went to visit the idyllic farm in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom that produces Butterworks Farm yogurt, I developed a daily addiction to two yogurts: Butterworks, which is delicate and junket-y (think fragile pudding) and has the wonderful flavor of milk from the cows the Lazor family raises; and Fage, which was then called Total--a strained yogurt, with the thick and creamy texture or crème fraîche or fromage frais. It was, and is, hard to believe that the nonfat yogurt is really nonfat, and the full-fat tastes as rich as the (in fact richer) crème fraîche.
I still go through large quantities of each kind every day, so maybe I'll live as long as Aglaia's grandmother, who prescribed a pot of yogurt and bread for supper or a late-night snack, though I have a feeling the vaunted Mediterranean diet, as eaten when it really was the Mediterranean diet, had a lot to do with her incredible longevity.
But I've long wanted to visit the Fage plant in upstate New York, to see firsthand the differences with the farm panorama the Lazors present--if anything, more rustic and picturesque than any idealized label could portray--and get a sense of why Fage's version still seems so much subtler, tangier, and better than the various Greek brands that have rushed to copy its success. Aglaia's incredible array of recipes and beautifully written memories will get me there one summer's day soon.
When I went to visit the idyllic farm in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom that produces Butterworks Farm yogurt, I developed a daily addiction to two yogurts: Butterworks, which is delicate and junket-y (think fragile pudding) and has the wonderful flavor of milk from the cows the Lazor family raises; and Fage, which was then called Total--a strained yogurt, with the thick and creamy texture or crème fraîche or fromage frais. It was, and is, hard to believe that the nonfat yogurt is really nonfat, and the full-fat tastes as rich as the (in fact richer) crème fraîche.
I still go through large quantities of each kind every day, so maybe I'll live as long as Aglaia's grandmother, who prescribed a pot of yogurt and bread for supper or a late-night snack, though I have a feeling the vaunted Mediterranean diet, as eaten when it really was the Mediterranean diet, had a lot to do with her incredible longevity.
But I've long wanted to visit the Fage plant in upstate New York, to see firsthand the differences with the farm panorama the Lazors present--if anything, more rustic and picturesque than any idealized label could portray--and get a sense of why Fage's version still seems so much subtler, tangier, and better than the various Greek brands that have rushed to copy its success. Aglaia's incredible array of recipes and beautifully written memories will get me there one summer's day soon.
I was really fond of Fage, but have begun to find it has just a slightly pasty mouthfeel. My new favorite is Greek Gods labneh, though I don't know widely that circulates outside of the Pacific Northwest.
The name for yoghurt may be Turkish and the Greeks may have the largest "factories" but nobody has written and researched yoghurt more than the Bulgarians. After all - the story of yoghurt is not about diary or milk - it is about bacteria. Lactobacillus bulgaricus.
It seems not true and a myth that lactobacillus bulgaricus can ferment only lactose. These bacteria can turn any sugar and protein rich substance into yoghurt. Here is a yoghurt that I find tastes delicious but also follows John C Lilly's advice that the only security we have is our ability to change. No hormones, no antibiotics, no torture and no environmental destruction. Just guilt-free pleasure.
Like cheese - yoghurt was a solution to a well-known problem: lactose intolerance. But those who know me also know that there was no real problem and hence no real solution.