While on the hunt for a post-midnight snack, I stumbled upon a collection of my sister's hipstery Siggi's Vanilla Yogurt.
"Hmm," I thought to myself, "can't be that bad." So I went ahead and tried what appeared the be a wonderful vanilla bean-laced custard and while not so great at first, I gave it a second, a third and then a fourth try... And you know what? The flavor only got better and better.
Halfway into my 2:00 AM indulgence, I was even further intrigued, not by the dairy product, but rather by Siggi's apparent environmental conscience, something of an anomaly for yogurts––which are typically the brainchildren of evil big dairy. Oooooooh, menacing.
Where were we? Ah yes, Siggi's penchant for trees. Yes. On the packaging of Mr. Sig's dessert, it says:
Being the far-too-curious-for-his-own-good individual that I am, I just had to read the Sigster's story.
So I did.
It is as follows:
In short, old man Siggi was none too pleased with the garbage, unrefined yogurt Americans scarf down by the truckload. He found the stuff far too sweet.
Additionally, his––not yogurt, you damn fool!––but "skyr" (pronounced "skeer," Siggi tells me) harkens back to a centuries-old Icelandic tradition from, you guessed it, his homeland of Iceland.
Unlike the high-fructose corn syruped, hormone-injected, artificially-colored gruel us condemnable Americans shove down our throats, Siggi's brand requires far more milk than Chobanplait, namely four times as much.
Plus, ol' Sig employs only the happiest farmers. Not the Confederate flag-waiving types who consider cow-tipping a hobby or enjoy long walks on the beach... accompanied by occasionally branding their cattle... for fun, of course.
But instead Siggi requires his farmers to embark on a rigorous 14-point exam which will only give your farm the go-ahead should it include rainbows at least five times a week, an all-inclusive cow getaway, spas, masseuses and bingo night. Pundits have labeled Siggi's revolutionary new idea as "fat camp for cows."
I wish I were kidding.