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I wouldn’t say I’ve got a “sweet tooth” because I think that grim expression too often implies a clandestine cupcake habit – the idea that I, a woman, can’t make it through the day without my buttercream hit. That just isn’t how I do it.
What I have is the kind of brain that lives for mealtimes and, as such, I am always looking for ways to eke out my dinner. So I couldn’t just, say, eat a stew and be done with it. I’d require pudding.
Yoghurt is my favourite thing in the fridge. When I was a baby, my mum would feed me alternate spoons of yoghurt to get me through my pulverised pork casserole. I still feel the same way, except the pulverised pork casserole is life.
Far be it from me to tell you what brand of yoghurt to eat, but let’s just say: Skyr or Fage or GTFO.
I eat a lot of yoghurt and honey – plain and simple – and I don’t have a bad word to say about it. But sometimes I like to go to town. I went through a phase of keeping boxes of trifle sponge on standby so I could make “yoghurt trifles”. We all have our moments.
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