Kombucha 

Let me just jump right into this:
You brew tea just like you always would, except more than a mug’s worth. More like a mason jar’s worth, or for us: gallons.

  We use red, black, and green teas. The top middle bowl is a super top secret blend.

Stir sugar into it. Let it come to room temp. Whisk in a bit of starter liquid for a couple of minutes. 

 
Dump your scoby into it. Your scoby. You know– that big creepy hunk of thigh flesh that floats on your sweet tea and has become part of the family. 

  Look at those layers…

Let that thing eat all of the sweet tea’s sugar and replace it with a champagne-like fizz and a nice healthy dose of probiotics. 

  

After a week-long soak, pour the tea into  bottles. Cap them. Let them sit for 2-3 days on the counter at room temp, making sure to open them every day to release the pressure building up in there.

 That stuff floating in the bottles is puréed fruit we use for flavoring. More on that in a second. 

Stick them in the fridge to chill, then drink it. It’ll be fizzy and tangy and better than any soda ever made.

That’s generally how you brew kombucha. Thank you for reading my so-called directions instead of one of the zillion other articles that explain the same process with richer details and more precision. 

We start the brew process anew every single week, and we have been doing this since March. We brew over 20 bottles at a time, ending up with all the kombucha we want plus some for my mother-in-law, and some to force our friends to try.

 

One day, we’ll make it in a certified kitchen and sell it. That’s the dream! One of them, anyway.

Lately we’ve been flavoring our booch with any ole tasty thing we find at the market. 

  

Recently, we bought Concord grapes.

  
 
We puréed them.

  

Squeezed the purée through a mesh bag.

  

And then we poured a few ounces into each bottle before the scoby bath water. 

The entire world of fermented foods is preeetty fascinating, if you ask me; the way nature allows us to turn cabbage into sauerkraut with a simple salt massage and a little bit of time, or cucumbers into pickles with some vinegar brine.

That rhyme was on purpose. 

And it just so happens that all of these tangy, jarred, preserved hipster foods are magical for the digestive system. I mean…just try and tell me fermented foods aren’t cool.
With every article I read about the importance of gut health, which I’ve been stumbling upon more often, my appreciation for this big ole kombucha process grows. All the whisking, all the purée, straining, bottling is completely worthwhile and rewarding.