“To ferment your own food is to lodge a small but eloquent protest – on behalf of the senses and the microbes – against the homogenization of flavors and food experiences now rolling like a great, undifferentiated lawn across the globe. It is also a declaration of independence from an economy that would much prefer we remain passive consumers of its standardized commodities, rather than creators of idiosyncratic products expressive of ourselves and of the places where we live, because your pale ale or sourdough bread or kimchi is going to taste nothing like mine or anyone else’s.” Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation
I have never had fresh-brewed Kombucha, until today. Did I mention that I freakin’ love Boulder, Colorado? Get your Kombucha on at the Point Cafe in Boulder. Older Charming and also Handsome Son set me straight on my “fresh-brewed” moniker. We had Upstart Rosebud Kombucha on tap, meaning that they didn’t make it on the premises but that it is made locally and lovingly in small batches – which is way better than sitting in a bottle at WalMart with a “Best By” date (my previous foray into the world of Kombucha).
Kombucha is a fermented tea. There are mixed reviews on it’s superpowers, so Google it, swig some, then decide for yourself. I would love to make homemade Kombucha but I don’t want to accidentally kill myself or my loved ones because I want to save a buck and avoid preservatives. I’m going to have to think long and hard on this one. Accidents can and do happen when you start fermenting stuff in your house, trailer, tent. There is a funny story about someone I know making beer in a tent and ending up in the infirmary for a couple of weeks. Maybe it’s not so funny, but it’s a story… for another day, my good friends. We were young and he was super cute, but not too bright.