Review of Glenisk Strawberry and Raspberry Goat's Milk Yoghurt

Hello I am your chief editor of all things food. I have taken a break from restaurants to review a homely commodity spewed from an assembly line no doubt of which you people are quite familiar with. I am on a lactose free diet for a while, to see if it is in any way correlated to the splurges of malevolent phlegm circulating like a gelatinous jelly bean in my sinuses.

Before I am tucked into bed I always demand yoghurt. It is vital for the commencement of dreams Yosi and Yinu are two characters that regularly introduce me to my dreams. They are both like the soft, furred fauna found in Narnia. I also like that the yoghurt when it is the correct quality for my very delicate taste buds are like that of a blanket of snow on my tongue that seeps inside of me, and makes me feel soft and dreamy, Yurm yurm. So after panicking about possible yoghurt withdrawal symptoms, (which usually involves Yosi chewing on my arms and the words of something not quite understandable dizzying out from the lips of the very pretty Yinu, with her seahorse curves and blonde Aryan fur while insomnia is glued to the ceiling of Bethlehem’s favourite son’s stable) I decided to send my maid to obtain for me any goats yogurt they may have in the local superxxxmarket. She came back out of breath and holding her dainty purse with the object of my desire jutting out with blue cardboard rabbit ears, YES Glenisk strawberry and raspberry goat’s milk yoghurt the name shrieked out to me as my increasing delirium became bothersome to the maid, astonished that after three days of sleepless wandering I had coaxed the cognitive abilities to arm myself with a spoon.

My eyes lead by the bulging delirium that had me quite maniac, sifted through the letters inscribed on the yoghurt label, and searching for a message from Yosi who promised a game of croquet before the day’s light was extinguished. And then after six quarters of three dollops of the spoon’s weight in yoghurt, the tastes perspiring into my throat, the ingredients started to pop, materialising in sparks forming what was an electric billboard which read without error, (I was impressed by the pedagogic skills of the maniac vision): Strawberry: whole goat milk, goat milk solids, sugar, tapioca starch, strawberry puree (9%), cane sugar, lemon juice from concentrate, stabiliser (carob gum), natural flavouring, yogurt cultures, probiotic cultures. Raspberry: whole goat milk, goat milk solids, sugar, tapioca starch, raspberry puree (9%), cane sugar, lemon juice from concentrate, stabiliser (carob gum), natural flavouring, yogurt cultures, probiotic cultures.

For some reason the word carob gum (see image below) slapped me in the face, tickled my tummy, elucidated a deeper meaning, but what? I knew then it must be Yosi. I knew that I had to find the meaning of this word and therefore find Yosi. So with this hypothesis fastened to my hippocampus I got my chauffer to drive me to my private jet where I had an airplane waiting and a pilot smelling of gin to take me to investigate where this carob gum came from. I spend four days in Portugal where the Carob tree grows. I was to be lead on the trail by a man wearing baggy pants and a novelty t-shirt of a t-shirt that was in fact bodypaint. He told me of a factory I could find and also told me that the gum preferred the name ‘locust bean gum’ dare I offend it. His grandfather had worked there in the early 1930’s. The directions scribbled on my napkin were faultless, the factory was situated four miles south of a town of which I cannot quite remember the name of it but I do recall it resembled the world pueblo. I get amnesia in the severe heat of these parts. Once I made it to the locale and peeking into a large window which had a burbling sign with the words nehhum espreitar of which I did not understand; I found dozens of seeds having their skin removed by automated machines specialising in acid treatment and a roller operation milling the endosperm. Later reading my copy of The Encyclopaedia of Fruit & Nuts ( a Christmas present from Karl Pilkington, apparently he is a fan of my work) I came across its many uses such as its use in the manufacture of paper, in cosmetics, drugs, the chemical industry, flavouring tobacco, textile printing, synthetic resins, insecticides and fungicides.

I am now in convalesce and will never eat any yoghurt that does not come from my own cows again, of which I’d imagine are lonely without my desires for their dairy. I do miss Nelly particularly, she makes the funniest face when she is milked. On a final note, I shan’t be having mass produced yoghurt anytime soon. I am done experimenting with the fodder of the unsophisticated masses. I have learned that you ought to have stomachs like the Delhi iron pillar for your incessant labours. Until next time happy gastronomy!