Remember the fairy tale about the blonde, picky kid who barges into a bear family’s home? She slurps up their porridge, complaining and dissatisfied, until she finds the bowl that is “just right.”

That’s me, but with yogurt (and without the breaking-and-entering part). At least, that’s how I felt in my search for the ideal yogurt: “This one’s too runny. This one’s too lumpy. This one’s too tart. This one’s too sweet.” Those with artificial anything got a swipe left. Low-fat or no-fat, hard pass.

But then La Fermière won over my fickle taste buds.