Eddie’s Food Pet Peeves: That You Almost Don’t Dare Order ‘Regular’ Yogurt
Adeline loves food, lots of it and often, both at home and out. Usually that goes well, but sometimes it doesn’t. In the series Eddie’s Food Pet Peeves, she shares her observations. This time: about run-of-the-mill yogurt in the capital.
It happened to me this morning. I was staying overnight in our capital, also known as the epicenter of the yup, but above all simply the natural habitat of the natural-wine-slurping oat-milk elite. If you had to give me seven ticks in this regard, I’d certainly check off five. Standard millennial behavior isn’t unfamiliar to me, but oat milk is missing.
Regular yogurt
So there I was in a trendy breakfast area where I had to order my yogurt with granola from the menu. I like hotels without buffets, so up to that point I was already overjoyed. First I ordered a double espresso, then my orange juice, and finally it was time for the yogurt bowl. I always find a bowl like that tastier, more artistic and more delicious when I don’t have to prepare it myself. Call me lazy, but it’s true.
The girl at my table, holding a little device for taking orders, asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was obvious. “Would you like coconut or regular yogurt?” And suddenly I didn’t just feel very ordinary there in that breakfast area, but also as if I were a rare species from beyond the Randstad who had the audacity not to order plant-based yogurt. I muttered that I’d have regular yogurt and lowered myself a little farther beneath the table.
Oat miiilk
By now, in Amsterdam I almost don’t dare say that I eat ‘normal’ yogurt. Thank goodness I find anything that smells of milk in my coffee undrinkable, so at least I don’t get asked whether I want oat miiilk (that’s genuinely how they pronounce it here) or regular milk. There are friends in my Oat-Milk-Elite circle who wrinkle their noses just a little when they have to drink ‘regular’ milk in their cappuccino somewhere. They often change their order to fresh ginger tea. In that respect, you can recognize them from miles away. Just as I feel that here I have to walk into the street with a cowbell around my neck. And that Amsterdammers then shout ‘shame shame shame’ from the roadside, Game of Thrones-style, because I happen to eat ordinary yogurt.
‘Two cappuccinos, oat milk’
As I write this, I hear the waitress call out ‘two cappuccinos, oat milk’ to the bar. I think it’s official. I’m an endangered species. Which is usually perfectly fine, of course, because I only drink black coffee anyway. But let me have a little fun and allow me to chuckle for at least another year when the Randstad elite orders an oat-milk cappuccino in the provinces.
Also read:
- Eddie’s Food Pet Peeves: those restaurants where you’re served far too much food
- Why some people shouldn’t be allowed to use a self-checkout
- The grossest dining scene ever in a restaurant
