The blind date
A friend of mine suggested I spend some time with her.
She felt like a stranger even though I’ve known her since childhood. We shared the cafeteria table all through middle school. She was cool, pretty and sweet. Everybody liked her. But as we got older and developed other friendships, we grew apart. I’d think of her maybe once or twice a year. She was too healthy for me. She belonged to the Lulu Lemon, quinoa, Gwyneth Paltrow, kale crowd. I didn’t want her to judge my habitual pizza and Doritos indulgence, or my waistline.
Last week, we sat together and I got to know her better. We had never had a real conversation despite our history. Detecting this could develop into a serious relationship, I mustered the courage to share some of my reservations about moving forward with her.
“Eating delicious food is important to me. I don’t always eat healthy. I’m not against eating consciously, but it seems like you hang out mostly with the granola-eating, Pilates aficionados. I just need to know that you are open to other people like me.”
That is when she broke down and cried. I’ve never seen her like this. After a long sob she finally told me a great secret.
The great secret
I learned that her real name is Dahi Labneh Matzoon. Her family immigrated to the US when she was little. Because her family came from the Middle East she always felt marginalized. She was bullied; she couldn’t fit in. She desperately wanted to assimilate to this new place.
One day she bleached her hair, got a new look and begged her parents to change her name to something more American. I met Yogurt a few years after she changed her name.
She rejected her family’s ways of the past. She wanted to be the all American girl. Bright, cheery, sporty, active, healthy, thin cheerleader type. And she succeeded. She was popular. She hung out with the light breakfast crowd of granola and fruits. She sometimes presented as frozen yogurt. She became an object of desire in the male gaze dominated commercial food realm.
Being Yogurt was exhausting. She could let her guard down and be herself with me. She could be Dahi Labneh Matzoon.
I asked about her family. About the world she was hiding.
She told me that when her family lived in Iran, her father would call her Mâst Chekide. She was at the table all three meals of the day. Mâst Chekide wasn’t some pretty little thing inside a plastic container consumed as a snack or light breakfast. She was an integral part of ALL the meals.
It was the same living in Lebanon as Labneh. She brightened all the dishes. She felt at home mixing with other wonderful ingredients. She wasn’t comfortable when she stood out. Labneh embraced, enhanced, elevated others.
But it was in India that she felt most relaxed as Dahi. She was invited to every home and made friends with everyone. Dahi became part of their family, literally. She told me, “You see, unlike in America where I needed the standard makeup and uniform to keep my identity, in India I went to people’s homes unadorned. I looked different from household to household depending on my condition.” she continued emphatically. Each region and individual household in India uses unique bacteria to make their Dahi, much as wine varies throughout France.
“They accepted me with all my different layers of complexity as simply Dahi, without judgment.”
What’s in a name
I was delighted to truly get to know Yogurt. Or Dahi Labneh Matzoon.
Some times names create biases in us. Well, it did in me.
The name Yogurt triggered a way of seeing and treating her. I was not open. Only when I heard her full story and all of her names did I realize that she was actually everywhere. Just with a different name.
She was in delicious dishes from all around the world.
Chicken Tikka Masala, English
Mor Kuzhambu, Indian
Çılbır, Turkish egg dish
Kibbeh, Levantine cuisine
Zhoixo, Tibetan cuisine of ginseng
She was in soups.
Ash-e doogh, Iranian
Dovga, Azeribijani
Toyga soup, Turkish
Okroshka, Russian
She was in condiments.
Dahi chutney, Indian
Raita, Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi
Tzatziki, Greek
She was in beverages.
Acidophiline, USSR
Ayran, Turkish
Borhani, Bangladeshi
Chaas, Indian
Chal, Kazakstan
Doogh, Iranian
Lassi, India
Matzoon, Armenian
Nai lao, China and North Vietnam
Omaere, Namibia
Ryazhenka, Belarus
Yakult, Japan
Dahi Dashi Harvest Moon
Once I go to know Dahi Labneh Matzoon (aka Yogurt), I was able to create the most tasty dish I’ve ever made. Dashi oatmeal with maple syrup and furikake. Served with yogurt purée of fresh cucumber, mint, cilantro, extra virgin olive oil and garlic.
Inspired by
Old fashioned rolled oats.
Local farmed organic greens.
Hokkaido Kombu harvested just two months of the year.
Vermont Butternut mountain farm maple syrup.
Bosporus Tzatziki with French style yogurt.
I also made a dairy free version for Jen with Greek style almond yogurt.
This dish has no nationality. Only regionality of the ingredients.
I’m amazed that we have access to ingredients from around the world even during this pandemic.
Here is my creation “Dahi Dashi Harvest Moon.”
Ingredients
Yogurt ….. 1 cup
Fresh cucumber ….. 1
Mint ….. 1/4 cup chopped
Cilantro ….. 1/4 cup chopped
Extra virgin olive oil ….. 1 tablespoon
Garlic ….. 1 clove
Oatmeal ….. 1 cup
Dashi ….. 1 1/2 cup
Maple syrup ….. 2 tablespoons or to taste
Furikake ….. to taste
Instructions
Into a food processor put in yogurt, cucumber, mint, cilantro, olive oil and garlic. Then mix to create creamy condiment.
Add salt to bring out flavor.
Keep cold to contrast temperature.
Heat dashi. The dashi will create a savoriness that will linger in your mouth for an hour.
Add oatmeal. I prefer using steel cut oats for the texture and flavor. But they take about 25 minutes to cook. You can use old fashion (aka rolled) oats for quicker cook time. About 5-7 minutes.
Add salt to taste.
Stir in maple syrup to oatmeal.
On half of the plate spread the hot oatmeal 1/2 inch thick.
Sprinkle furikake on the oatmeal.
On the other half of the plate place the cold creamy condiment away from the oatmeal.
Eat the dish by dipping oatmeal into the condiment one fork at a time.
The gaze
Names are like filters to the gaze.
The English name Yogurt creates a filter that objectifies the “bacteria fermented milk” as a healthy breakfast in a beautiful plastic cup. U.S. Yogurt production uses standardized probiotic* bacterias and never varies like it does regionally in India. The name Yogurt constrains.
An Arabic or Farsi name of “bacteria fermented milk” would probably not sell too well in the US, post 9/11. But it does have the effect of freeing the “bacteria fermented milk” from the plastic cup and into other dishes as an ingredient.
The name Yogurt seems to me of the male gaze, as Yogurt is seen as an object of desire of a certain lifestyle. Not a versatile ingredient that can elevate cuisine.
In contrast Dahi, Labneh, Matzoon, and Mâst Chekide perhaps are of the female gaze. Dahi Dashi Harvest Moon was designed in hopes to celebrate and express this insight.
*Probiotic
Yogurt is made from adding bacteria to milk. The nutritional components of yogurt are the same as milk plus the bacteria. Some bacteria can survive in your gut.
In simple terms probiotic means bacteria that can survive in your gut. Some bacteria in some yogurts survive in your gut.
A little over 100 years ago a Nobel prize laureate Russian scientist hypothesized that yogurt bacteria in the gut has an anti-aging effect. Ever since then yogurt (and probiotics) has been believed to have health benefits.
As of 2019, the European Commission placed a ban on putting the word "probiotic" on the packaging of products because such labeling misleads consumers to believe a health benefit is provided by the product when no scientific proof exists to demonstrate that health effect.
In the United States, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and Federal Trade Commission (FTC) have issued warning letters and imposed punishment on various manufacturers of probiotic products whose labels claim to treat a disease or condition.
Regardless of the health debate, there is no debate on its good taste in my mind.
I just realized that yogurt is made from bacteria that survive in your gut. Get it? Haha.