First it was kale, I think. Then fish. Cauliflower went from dubiously tolerated to deeply beloved, and brussels sprouts followed suit. At some point, I confessed to a sudden, irreversible, life-altering change in my relationship with tomatoes.
It became a thing. Find a food I think I don't like, and then find a way to prepare it that makes me change my mind. It was true of anything, I declared loudly. There IS no food I don't like, and if I think there is, I just haven't come across the right version yet.
Except yogurt.
Yogurt, it seemed, was the last holdout. The final frontier. The unbeatable edible. The...you get the idea.
People thought they could solve this one easily for me. Just try Greek yogurt, they said. Make sure it's the such and such brand. Try French style. Try it with strawberries. Try the parsnip yogurt, because seriously, parsnips! (Verdict, on all: Ew.)
Until quite recently, when my mom intervened.* And this is what she suggested.
And the yogurt?
Delightful. Necessary. A perfect complement in both flavor and texture. And most importantly? Vanquished.
Ingredients
1 cup farro, cooked according to package directions
10 oz or so plain Greek yogurt (my favorites, texture-wise, are Fage and Voskos)
Local honey**
1 lemon (preferably Meyer), zested
1/2 - 1 tsp grated ginger
Plentiful fruit (sliced strawberries, blueberries, diced kiwi, sliced kumquats, you name it)
Mix the yogurt with the lemon zest, ginger, and a spoonful or two of honey. Serve in layers: a scoop or two of farro, a scoop of yogurt, a heap of fruit. Eat blissfully. Repeat as needed.
Serves about 4, and saves easily in the fridge, separately, for breakfasts throughout the week (just reheat the farro and serve).
*You may remember my mom as the well-intentioned radish foister.
**Turns out honey is one of the most adulterated food products in the U.S. (along with olive oil), so it's worth splurging a little on a source you trust.
