I need to warn you that these images are a departure from the usual plants, cats, shoes, and blur that adorn my blog. Some might find them disturbing. I find them disturbing.
I wrote several months ago about how I was starting to make my own kombucha, how great it tasted, and the supposed health benefits. Well I did it for months, and it did taste great, until we had company come a day earlier than expected and I didn’t get around to separating it and starting a new batch until long after they’d gone. It never tasted right again. I tried different teas, various methods to restore the fizz, but it was just yuck, like swallowing a combo of flat coke and sweat. So, after many wasted tea bags and much wasted time, I just kind of avoided it, and left it in a dark corner of the kitchen, quietly growing. When I did happen to glance at it I’d think, “Ew I need to get rid of that.”
But I didn’t, and as it grew layer after layer, I found my feelings changing from disgust… to interest (how big can this thing get?) … to a strange reverence one might give a Frankenstienian creation that has outgrown the need for a creator. It was like the Bomb in Planet of the Apes, or the pig’s head in Lord of the Flies.
Don’t worry it was covered, and completely contained, but freaky none the less. It filled and took on the shape of the jar.
This, my friends is a SCOBY: Symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast. It’s also called a “mother.” If you are really interested in kombucha, this won’t turn you off. But I would read up on possible risks, (another reason I quit making it.) I may try again one day, but I really just need to drink more water, you know?
I know this wasn’t a very reverent Mother’s Day post but, I was busy all of Mother’s Day and I feel way to many powerful emotions for my mother and grandmothers to ever distill it into a quickie blog post, so The Blob is all I got.