Picture the scene: a fat toddler, possibly the world’s fattest toddler, or at least a contender for the world’s fattest cheeks, sitting in a high chair. Said toddler is wearing a bib and holding a spoon in her chubby hand. She looks exceedingly happy, and that is because a yoghurt has been taken out of the fridge, and is now making its way towards her. That her mother or father is behind the yoghurt is of no importance. Priorities! There is yoghurt present.
‘-aou’t!!’ (yaourt, or yoghurt in toddler speak) is the word that comes out of that toddler’s mouth. The very first word. No da-da or ma-ma here today
I’m not sure what it says about me that I said yoghurt before Maman or Papa, and all those other normal words. It did set the scene for the next thirty years though – I am just as obsessed with food now as I was then, and with yoghurt too. There was never a chance in hell I’d ever become a vegan or one of those super health conscious people who cut out all fun things from their diet — not with that first word anyway.
I have to pull out my French snob card now by the way, and claim that French Yoghurt is the best. I know, many (most no doubt) of you will disagree, or you won’t care because you’re normal, non yoghurt-obsessed people. But it’s true — yoghurts remain one of my favourite things to have when I go back to France.