Ok, so I may be one step away from a hair shirt but I decided this morning to make my own yoghurt. My stomach is beginning to seriously miss starting the working week breakfasting across town from The Botanist (blueberry pancakes to die for) and Automat (officially the best eggs Benedict in town: fact), to my favourite: Cecconi’s.
Anywhere that serves Prosecco on tap has a one-way ticket to my affections. Okay, not for breakfast, but a freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, rocket-fuel coffee and fruit with thick, Greek yoghurt, all served up by an impossibly cute Continental boy, is equally endearing.
After a quick trawl of the internet I found good ol’ Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s recipe from The Guardian, and thought it looked pretty bomb-proof.
I decided to double-up as, well, as a family of six growing up, I’m not very good at cooking in small batches, so:
Into the pan went 2 pints of whole milk (none of this skimmed nonsense) with 50g of dried milk powder (for thickness says HFW) whisked in. It was then heated until little bubbles and a puff of steam appeared:
All it needs then is six good tablespoons of whole milk, live, plain yoghurt whisked into the milk (the aforementioned good bacteria). Wrap the bowl in clingfilm and tuck snugly away overnight in the airing cupboard, or the Yoghurt Incubator, as it has now been dubbed.
Accompanied by a handful of granola and a spoonful of stewed fruit, my new breakfast is certainly putting a smile back on my face. Now all I need is to find a hot Italian waiter to serve it to me…
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