During my time as a teaching assistant in France, Rosangela, Vilmarie and I often held dinner parties in a luxury apartment that overlooked the concrete expanse that was the school. As is tradition at stingy dinner parties, I asked the other American assistants to bring along a pudding. By about the 4th meal I realised something was not quite right. I enjoy a wobbly dessert as much as the next person, but our guests had continually brought yoghurt style desserts to dinner. Odd indeed. Or maybe just a favourite with our cousins over the pond?