Here's how we do food around here: Christa, our YUM! editor finds a product, touts it, and I find myself having to have it. That's how I am with food; describe it well enough, and I'll crave it.
I like yogurt, but I really love any dairy that's served in glass containers. Back in the day, that's how our milk came to the house and it had a wonderful, fresh taste. Others must be influenced by Christa's food posts too because White Cow Dairy, the tiny little grass-fed dairy in East Otto, New York, is now being carried by the Lexington Co-op and Premier has plans to carry it also.
I had occasion to meet Patrick Lango, proprietor of Blue Hill Dairy, at the Bidwell Market on Saturday, just like Christa said I would. He was out of yogurt, but he had something called yogurt cream. "You've got to try it on an English muffin," he said. "You'll never eat cream cheese again. It's like putty. Like window putty! It doesn't melt. But yogurt cream melts in your mouth." He gave me a spoonful: Butter-like, a tad tangy, creamy as could be. It made me want to follow with fresh berries. I bought two of the little glass jars.
And then I forgot about them until Sunday when I got home with huge, juicy homegrown peaches from Silvercreek. The yogurt cream mixed with honey dressed the peaches in splendor. Next, I mashed a yam for my daughter who'd just had teeth pulled and swirled the yogurt and honey into that to create what tasted like the filling in a sweet potato pie. Then, having stuffed some hot peppers from my garden, I drizzled a little yogurt cream on top of those: The heat of the pepper, with the salty anchovy, cream cheese and breadcrumb filling (alas, I was out of gorgonzola!), made the creamy tang of the yogurt complete a wonderful blend of flavors I hadn't experienced before.
Then there was the toasted flatbread slathered in apricot jam and yogurt cream, and the baked white potato nearly crusted with salt and pepper and drizzled with cream in place of butter. I can't wait to take Patrick up on his suggestion to mix the cream with pesto for a perfect pasta sauce. I really do think the possibilities are endless.
When Christa came in this morning and sat opposite me, I told her about my culinary journey with White Cow, along with my inability to get the yogurt. She pulled out a jar and spoon, and I finally tasted the creamy, lightly sweetened maple yogurt. At this rate, I'm thinking of getting Patrick another cow who'll produce just for me.