I Was a Yogurt Goldilocks Until I Discovered La Fermière

Although I didn’t participate in our taste test to help determine the best plain yogurt (I’m too biased), I wasn’t surprised when La Fermière Whole Milk Yogurt ranked highest in the “traditional” category.

It is, indeed, “just right” — thick, creamy, with a luscious custardy texture, subtly tart, and mildly sweet, without a drop of artificial ingredients or indecipherable preservatives.

But the plain yogurt is just the beginning. Having burned out on the basic flavors — blueberry, strawberry, and vanilla — years prior, I was delighted to find the dairy section of my grocery store blooming with La Fermière’s floral flavors, including rose, lavender, jasmine, and hibiscus.

These flowers don’t taste like my grandmother’s cold cream or L’Occitane soap. The rose is elegant and delicate, the lavender conjures a hint of herbes de Provence, the jasmine brings to mind a milky aromatic tea. But my favorite is the hibiscus raspberry, a savvy sweet-and-tart match made in heaven, with the floral-infused yogurt sitting atop raspberry puree, the only flowery flavor that needs to be mixed before being enjoyed.

All the flavors add a delicate, fragrant balance to the tartness of yogurt, creating a result more nuanced than one-note sugary fruits. The gentle perfumes smooth out the richness of the fatty cream, though that richness is oh so satisfying. There’s no need to mix in distractions like granola. Most of all, I revel in how the floral flavors transport me to a lavender field in Luberon or a wild garden in the Loire Valley.

In my mind, the only downside is that this yogurt costs a dollar more than most of the others at my supermarket — but I find that it’s worth the investment, in large part because of the artisanal process behind it.

First, it contains only a few ingredients: milk, cream, cane sugar, active cultures, and natural flavoring sans stabilizers, coloring, gelatin, and preservatives. French-style yogurt like this is “pot-setted,” which means poured directly into individual cups to culture and solidify. This process helps it maintain a firm, velvety texture and sets it apart from yogurt thickened by straining (as is done for Greek yogurt).

There’s a legacy behind the brand, too. “La Fermière” translates to “lady farmer.” Though it was originally a small, family-owned company, founded in 1952 in Marseille, it chose the name to evoke a particular image, that of a kindly, sturdy, country grand-mère, rather than paying tribute to an actual woman. That’s fine by me, as someone who grew up with fictitious feminine figureheads such as Betty Crocker and Sara Lee. (Plus, the French know their dairy. Ever enjoy French butter, cheese, or cream? Enough said.)

La Fermière is still family-owned today (it was acquired in 2002 by the Tarpinian clan, who are Marseille-based fruit and vegetable importers), but its distribution has grown beyond France and into the US, supported by manufacturing plants in Northern California and Upstate New York.

And while France has an edge on dairy products in general, the floral flavors are available only in the US — a bonus for everyone on this side of the Atlantic.

The joy doesn’t end after I’ve scraped the last of the yogurt out, as the empty pots are collectibles in their own right. The glass and terracotta pots are microwave-, freezer- and dishwasher-safe. In the oven, they can withstand temperatures up to 480 degrees Fahrenheit (I have aspirations of using them to make the world’s cutest mini-soufflés one day).

But I also use them as vases, cocktail glasses, espresso cups, candleholders, and containers for knickknacks.

And even if I wasn’t tempted to buy La Fermière’s offerings over and over for the yogurt itself, the seasonal colors and designs of the terracotta pots entice me to add the jars to my cart again and again.

Over the years, I’ve collected an amorous red engraved with “darling,” “baby,” and “sweetie,” heralding Valentine’s Day with a nod to Sweethearts candies, a lovely “beachy blue” aquamarine imprinted with a whale to welcome the summer, and a wintry green imprinted with a fir tree to usher in the holidays.

There have been limited-edition pots engraved with zodiac signs and dancing Keith Haring figures (my Haring happens to serve as a cotton-swab holder in my medicine cabinet).

The collectible aspect (not to mention full-press marketing) has cultivated such a devoted fan base in the US that the yogurt has become a social media darling, and I’ve seen the pots alone sell for $10 on Etsy. Lines have snaked out of recent pop-up shops in New York and Los Angeles, and pot-painting and pot-engraving parties are poised to become the new crafting craze.

But for me, it all comes back to the yogurt. I love starting my days with a veritable bouquet of “just right” choices, along with the charming little keepsakes that make La Fermière a true forget-me-not.

This article was edited by Megan Beauchamp and Maxine Builder.