Liberté, Egalité, Faternité

Last week I had a supermarket crisis on my hands: the only Stonyfield Farms yogurt in stock was apricot, which is disgusting; there was no skyr; and the Greek kind had dangerously close expiration dates for someone who forgets to eat breakfast half the time. Whole Foods: fire your suppliers.

I was forced to branch out.  I hate trying new things when I'm the one who has to pay for them.  Also I refuse to buy more than one of any particular product if I've never had it before in case it turns out to be revolting.  The yogurt I ended up selecting came from Canada, so the odds were already stacked against it.

I'm just kidding - I love Canada.  And I love my Canadian friend who recommended the stuff to me months ago.  It's called Liberté, and besides the allure of its fancy French[Canadian] name, it also comes in some swell flavors [er, sorry Canada -- flavours] like plum walnut and passion fruit.  I've only seen it in health food stores so I figured it would be aspertaine-free and not have a bunch of crap in it.  Also it was just over a dollar for a little six-ounce container.  The price was right.  I bought a coconut-flavoured one and it was absolutely divine.  I enjoyed every bite.  The cat enjoyed licking the inside of the foil lid, which I let her do on occasion.  Everyone was happy.

Today I made the Liberté commitment and bought enough for the next week of breakfasts.  The delight of finding that there were little coconut bits in the bottom of some seriously tangy yogurt would not leave my mind.  More had to be acquired.  I was pleased with my purchase.

But, dear reader, don't follow my example.  For I just looked at the label on the back and this six ounce tub of yogurt contains 17 grams of fat.  I didn't think that was even possible outside of fast food establishments and microwave meals and foods containing chocolate.  Oh, and don't try to blame this on the coconut, either, because the passion fruit one clocks in at 15 g. 

Mind you: I am not an obsessive calorie counter.  I don't overdo it, but I don't fret too much over such things most of the time.  Part of the reason I don't sweat it is that I pick foods like yogurt and fruit instead of fried eggs and bacon for my breakfast every day.  Except now my yogurt is some sort of Benedict Arnold fried egg accomplice [pun unintentional, and it stays].  Honestly, there should really be a point after which yogurt is quarantined away from its bretheren and labeled "DESSERT."  I say that point is when the fat content hits double digits.

OK, I'm done yelling about yogurt now.  You're welcome.