If I ever had the need to create a request for my single last meal before death, it would contain honey greek yogurt. I have been obsessed with the food of Mediterranean Greece for as long as I can remember but it wasn't until this past year when greek yogurt started popping up the shelves of almost every boutique grocery store that I realized I could be perfectly happy eating just this item of food for the rest of my life.
Growing up American, yogurt was always a part of my culinary fare. I have had many phases with the creamy dairy delicacy and minor periods of obsession with certain flavors. My Catholic school '80s era lunch boxes were full of Yoplait strawberry banana. My high school lust was for boysenberry generic brands. And my twenties were filled with plain yogurt mornings mixed with granola or vanilla tubs taking the place of ice cream for dessert.
My Sebastopol sister Sonia picked me up from the airport on my last visit and the minute I got in the car she asked me if I had a spoon. She asked it as if having a spoon getting off an airplane was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. My first thought was, "What, does she want to do a snort of cocaine? That is so '80s" but those sordid thoughts were relinquished when she pulled out the big tub of honey greek yogurt that she had purchased along the way and couldn't wait to dive into. We spent the next two days making trips to Trader Joe's for the stuff. At least I know now that I am not the only crazy one.
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