WHEN PONDERING the food of the gods, one rarely thinks ...

When pondering the food of the gods, one rarely thinks of yogurt. Introduced by Dannon to American consumption in 1942, yogurt has come to be associated with brown-bag lunches, live bacterial cultures and gimmicky perversions (Berry Blue Blast Go-GURT, anyone?) Yogurt is one of the un-sexiest foods out there.

Unless you're talking about Greek yogurt, that is. Comparing American yogurt to Greek yogurt is like comparing water to wine. The standout features of the latter are its body and creaminess. Like the fabled head on a pint of Guinness, Greek yogurt is so thick that you can stand a spoon in it. American yogurt, on the other hand, often has a gelatinous texture or watery limpness that the smooth density of Greek yogurt puts to shame. While mass-produced Greek yogurt is available in many city supermarkets (Total being the most popular brand), homegrown Greek yogurt can also be found in your own back yard.

Kesso Foods, a Queens-based producer of Greek yogurt, runs a mom-and-pop operation on an isolated commercial strip in East Elmhurst. Chances are you haven't stumbled upon it-the closest "destination" to the store is the nearby Riker's Island correctional facility, whose employees make up the bulk of Kesso's regulars.

The shop, announced by a modest hand-painted sign that reads "Mediterranean Thick Yogurt," is small, homey and impeccably clean. The size of the store makes it difficult to imagine that the proprietors, Greek natives Fotini and Stavros Kessissoglou, make 400 gallons of yogurt here every day, five days a week.

Nearly seventeen years ago, when the Kessissoglous were new immigrants, they bought their original recipe from an aging Greek man in Astoria (they have since improved it). Fotini and Stavros also acquired the old man's piece of yogurt-making machinery: a hand-me-down from the Dannon yogurt plant formerly based in Long Island City.

Stavros makes their yogurt in an unassuming space behind the retail shop that Fotini calls "the milk plant." The milk plant is really just a menagerie of three industrial-sized sinks, the lone Dannon machine, cheesecloths, plastic tubs and an oven.

This is where their strained whole milk and low-fat yogurts are made. The "strained" signifies a process in which the yogurt is drained for several hours, thus giving it a gravity-defying consistency. The effect is most impressively displayed in the individual portions that Fotini doles out at the store: three unshakeable, egg-shaped scoops. The product is superb; tangy, rich and incredibly thick, it sticks to your spoon and lingers on your tongue. The yogurt is also sold at several restaurants, markets and at their daughter's store, The Yoghurt Place II, which opened last summer in Soho.

For her own customers, Fotini lovingly spoons homemade fruit compote and crushed nuts onto the yogurt. She also serves it in the traditional way: with Greek honey and walnuts. When asked if there is a name for this in Greek, Fotini smiles and says, "Ambrosia."

The Yoghurt Place II 71 Sullivan St. (betw. Broome & Spring Sts.), 212-219-3500.