Whole raw milk.

One eight-ounce glass:  my midmorning snack.  

I drank a lot of milk as a kid and young adult, mostly gulping it down with meals.  It wasn't a pleasure in and of itself, except maybe with certain things:  chocolate brownies, peanut butter sandwiches, lasagna, all things I love to wash down with milk.

I cut seriously back in the last few years when I went low-carb.  Only in the last few months has it returned to my diet, and now it's really good, whole raw milk from grass-fed cows.  Now, it's too good to wash down dinner with.  Now it stands alone, about ten-thirty in the morning.  All by itself, and sipped with some attention to the sensation, it is astonishingly creamy and even a little sweet.  It reminds me (just a bit) of good vanilla ice cream.  There's no vanilla, of course, and only lactose for sweetness, but that richness and some of the body is there.  

It's surprisingly filling, too.  I won't have any trouble waiting till noon.