Translucent white cups cook slowly, evenly, mysteriously multiplying bacteria in the corner of our kitchen. This bacteria is good bacteria, we want it to reproduce. Soon the white cups will fill to the top with slippery white gelled liquid to which we will add fruit or preserves. From when he was a young man, in High School or earlier, maybe Middle School, my Brother made his own Yogurt. At the time I thought the practice was an odd hobby, maybe something my Brother did to help save money on the grocery bill or as an investigative chemistry experiment. We ate this homemade yogurt a lot. It was good. As we moved on with life... he went to college, I went to college... soon we were separated by time, an entire continent, and an ocean of mediocre yogurt. Battling weight, I lived off of low fat dreck for years. The plastic sheen of pastel pink and yellow cultures engulfed damaged, dye infused, soggy fruits. It doesn't compare. I miss the old yogurt, the yogurt from those white cups.