Taste Test: multi-green kombucha

Commercial kombucha comes in a pretty palette of girly fruit colors: pink, purple, orange, gingerberry. For a long time I have nervously eyed the multi-green, a lone snake in the flowerbed. Yesterday, Owen begged me to buy some, I guess because green is a boy color. 

Impressions: It tastes like soda made out of moss. If you call it a tonic, which changes all your taste expectations, it is tolerable -- spritzy and vegetal. Owen was not a fan. The algal sediment at the bottom of the bottle brings to mind the fatigues-colored juices emitted by cooked spinach. 

Buy again? No.

Some definitions

My mother, my husband, and a friend have all chastised me for throwing around too many terms they don't know over the last few days. Specifically, matcha, kombucha, and horchata. 

I will try not to make so many assumptions in the future.

Meanwhile: 

matcha: Japanese green tea powder. Its has the consistency of baking powder (a white leavener often used in biscuits), the flavor of green tea (antioxidant drink made with dried leaves and water, typically served hot; extremely healthy although it makes some people, like me, feel ill), and the color of wasabi (a fiery bright green paste served with sushi. Sushi? It's this raw fish, dried seaweed,  and cold rice thing they do in Japan and though it sounds nasty, it's really great, trust me.) You can buy matcha at the supermarket in a tiny canister and use it to make green tea ice cream.

kombucha: Ancient fermented tea drink with roots in Asia and Eastern Europe that has recently become trendy. Many health benefits are attributed to kombucha, though few, if any, have been supported by scientific studies. It's quite tasty, tart and spritzy, though it takes getting used to. If a bad batch doesn't send you to the E.R., I'm quite sure it's healthier than a Pepsi (dark, sweet, carbonated soft drink. According to legend, if you put a baby tooth in a glass of Pepsi, it will dissolve in 24 hours! Would be interesting to put a baby tooth in a glass of kombucha.)

horchata: A Latin American beverage you will often find at taquerias alongside those fresh fruit drinks that are so yummy. I think horchata is yummier. It's thin and milky, though it doesn't contain milk, and is made (variously) with ground rice (ok, I'm done), cinnamon, sugar, vanilla, and almonds. 

Happy Memorial Day, everyone. 

 

Make it or buy it: kombucha, part 2

Yesterday, my friend Debra came over to finish making the kombucha we started a week ago Friday. We lifted the cloth covering the bowl. After eight days, there was a glaucous film floating atop clear, golden liquid.

Debra lifted the skin and it split into two layers.

On the left is the meaty, brown original "mother." On the right, her thin, white daughter. Not pretty, but this is what was supposed to happen.

We put the two mothers aside and gazed at the copper-colored kombucha tea. I wish I could supply more drama at this juncture. Neither of us hesitated to sample the liquid, and it was delicious in the way that kombucha is delicious, which is to say, refreshing and tangy and sour. Ours tasted a little of apples. No one had to call 9-1-1.

We doctored the kombucha with a tiny amount of ginger (grate ginger, squeeze in a cheesecloth) and some cherry juice. Might omit the cherry juice next time; ginger was all it needed.

Then we ladled it into Deb's empty Synergy bottles with annoying labels that I have to peel off asap. We didn't fill the bottles all the way to the top for worries that they might explode. 

It was altogether satisfying and extremely cheap, if not a project for the squeamish. I'm working on a price breakdown. 

I don't know what to make of the kombucha health claims. I don't know what to make of the kombucha horror stories. Both probably have some merit. But I doubt I'll ever drink so much kombucha that it starts harming my liver, because I don't believe kombucha will cure cancer, make me skinny, prevent arthritis, or give me beautiful hair.

That said, it really does taste like a tonic. I've had a punk week and yesterday told everyone I was taking the night off from cooking. I made a giant bowl of buttered popcorn and ate it all by myself, stretched out on the bed with some light reading material. It was selfish and it was restorative, except that after consuming a giant bowl of buttered popcorn you feel greasy and sick. So I drank a glass of fizzy kombucha. It was like adding some vinegar to an overly oily salad. All better.

Kombucha: You know what bugs me?

The snake-oily Synergy Kombucha label. 

Here's my (least) favorite bit: "G.T.* Dave began bottling Kombucha in 1995 after his mother's success from drinking it during her battle with breast cancer."

First thought: wow, bad writing. Country really is going down the tubes. A split second later, duh, not bad, shrewd. The label doesn't say, "kombucha cured mom's breast cancer," because there are probably rules about that. She had success from drinking it.  The web site promises to provide more details, but so far doesn't.

Deb and I had success from making our own kombucha yesterday, so I can enjoy this refreshing probiotic beverage without having to read irritating marketing claims. 

*Gin & Tonic? A half-hearted internet search didn't reveal what "G.T." stands for, but did turn up this fawning profile in which the author describes him as "gym toned and sleek as an otter." I think he looks like Alex on Grey's Anatomy. Maybe G.T. stands for "gym toned."

Not a sky in the cloud

I've been listless lately, unable to motivate myself to start a new cookbook or cook anything at all. I  blame the weather. First it was hot and I was out there happily throwing money into holes planting in the garden. Now: foggy. 

Growing up in San Francisco, I experienced summer as the most alienating season of the year on account of the fog. The rest of the country is hanging out at the community pool, playing in sprinklers/fire hydrants, waiting for the ice cream truck. But you -- you special bohemian San Francisco kid, you -- are living inside a giant, lonely cloud. 

Of course, you're not allowed to wish you could hang out at the pool because that's just so bourgeois and suburban. You're lucky! Don't you know that? You're growing up in freaking San Francisco. You can take Muni down to Haight Street and buy yourself a vintage pea coat or nurse a cappuccino at the Blue Danube while writing sad things in tiny print in your journal. Or check out the groovy poetry books at City Lights! Or smoke clove cigarettes at Coit Tower! Or watch a documentary about an avant garde porn director at the Roxie! With such cultural riches who needs the sun? 

I hate it when I get sarcastic. I like San Francisco, just not in the summer. 

Just checked on the kombucha. It has a translucent skin all across the top like Jell-O, and there are no foul odors emanating. This is good news.

Tonight: David Tanis' Supper of the Lamb.

Make it or buy it: kombucha, pt. 1

I take back the mean things I said about kombucha. Debra brought over a bottle this morning and I actually tolerated -- even enjoyed -- a small glass. It was fizzy and tangy, much tastier than remembered. Maybe my early bad experience was due to the the shock of kombucha when I was expecting Snapple. Deb pays less because she buys in bulk, but a 16-oz bottle of Synergy Kombucha costs $3.99 from Organic Direct, a price I'm sure we can beat with homemade. That is, if it doesn't kill us.

We made kombucha according to Robin's recipe. First you boil 4 quarts of water, mix with 1 cup of sugar and 4 tablespoons of loose tea and steep for 15 minutes. (We used green tea, although Robin recommends black.) Strain. Cool to room temperature. 

At this point, you add 1 cup of prepared kombucha (bottled or homemade) and a so-called "mother" to the cooled tea. The "mother" may also be called a "scoby" which is the acronym for "symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast." I don't know how I feel about that. There's a video here about how to grow your own mother from scratch; now I'm worried because we used tap water in our kombucha and these guys say you shouldn't. So does this story. Shoot. Anyway, we were lucky enough to have a mother donated by Robin,  which was flat, shiny, and slippery, like a large squid without tentacles.

 Here is the mother lurking just beneath the surface of the cooled tea:

We covered the whole bowl with a cloth, put it in the back of the pantry,  and will reconvene next Friday to see what has developed. If we did everything right and the tap water didn't screw us up, the tea should be "tart and zingy" and there will be two mothers in the bowl. 

Here's the ingredient list on the Synergy Kombucha bottle: 95% G.T's. organic raw kombucha, blueberry juice, fresh pressed ginger juice, and 100% pure love!!!

You'd have to be crazy to date the movie Spock instead of Kirk

Seriously, Uhura needs glasses. Otherwise, Star Trek was swell, entertaining to both sentimental grown woman and excitable 8-year-old boy.

I made a slightly altered, slightly inferior version (see above) of the green tea cake the other day. I asked husband if he'd try it and tell me his thoughts. He said, "No. I've already tasted green tea cake and it's not as good as real cake." 

Funny husband. There's one more version I want to attempt before posting a recipe. 

Meanwhile, my friend D.* is coming over this morning and we are going to make kombucha using a "mother" given to me by Robin, a longtime kombucha-maker and fermented foods expert.

I do not drink kombucha. A few years ago, I was searching for a zero-calorie, non-water drink at Whole Foods when I saw this juicy-looking beverage that appeared to be as close as I was going to get, barring the miraculous appearance of diet Dr. Pepper. I bought it, took a sip, experienced the terrifying shock of kombucha, and have never gone back for more. 

Not everyone feels this way. D. drinks a bottle of kombucha every day and Robin has long extolled the health-giving properties of fermented foods like kombucha, which supposedly help repopulate the gut with "good" bacteria.

D. kept talking about the price of kombucha (high) and wouldn't it be interesting to make it, and I agreed it would be interesting to make it. If not drink it.

I've postponed wrapping up Molly Wizenberg's Homemade Life because cherries have appeared in the market and she has a recipe for bread salad with cherries, arugula, and goat cheese that I want to try. Four of my favorite foods are mentioned in the name of that dish. 

*I can't imagine she will mind being mentioned by name in the blog, but there are lots of things I have failed to imagine.