Artichokes are one of my favorite foods, yet I’ve often wondered what masochist first took it upon himself to eat one. Ditto crabs, rambutans and the so-called “Rocky Mountain oyster.”
Questions about the wisdom of our ancestors’ culinary choices returned to me the first time I tried kombucha. I knew that the drink was based on very old food traditions. I’d also heard health-conscious friends extol its virtues, claiming it had reenergized them, given them the skin and hair of youth, mitigated their digestive ills, babysat for their children and cured them of every ailment save perhaps the tendency toward hyperbole.
Still, when I peered into the clear, brownish liquid and saw little floating strands of what I now know to be culture but looked a bit like pond scum, I thought, “Really?” I never see strands of slime floating in my Coke Zero; if I did, I’d probably be on the phone with a lawyer, making plans to quit my day job. Accustomed as most of us are to the industrial sameness of most bottled beverages, the look of kombucha might initially give you the heebie-jeebies.
And yet the drink was delicious: tart, lightly sweet, fizzy.
The commercial brands show real variety in terms of flavor, says Daniel Lieberman, one of the founders of D.C.’s Capital Kombucha, which makes flavors including basil-lemon grass and mango-chili. Even with the mildest formulations, some people might never come around. “I think there’s a range of food products, whether it’s pickles or kimchi or certain vinegars, where there’s a dividing line: You either love it or hate it,” he says. “Like the first time you ever eat a stinky cheese. Some people are just completely off-put by it, and other people eat it and six months later they’re craving it. It’s like a switch goes off in your head.”
Once I mixed some kombucha with gin and tonic syrup, I was sold; the resulting highball was crisp and tart. Further experiments rang a familiar bell: Many kombuchas remind me of vinegar fruit shrubs and can be used similarly. The ones that have gone through a second fermentation stage have the added appeal of carbonation. Many of them mix beautifully with spirits.
I beat back renewed squeamishness when I grew my own SCOBY, the weird colony that sits atop a batch of sweetened tea and causes its fermentation into kombucha. The name stands for “symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast.”
A SCOBY is the mother of all kombucha; you can’t brew your own without one. You can buy a SCOBY online, but if you’re comfortable with sterilizing jars and keeping things clean, you can grow one. It’s time-consuming but not difficult. Keep the environment warm — 72 to 85 degrees — and keep checking to make sure no molds are forming. It “takes some tending to, like a high-maintenance plant,” says Lieberman. “You want to be saying hi to it every few days.”
Mine took longer than I expected — SCOBYs want to be snuggly warm, and it was chillier than optimal in our house — but after about a month, there it was, ready to start brewing. I felt an odd, uneasy pride over bringing into the world what looked like the offspring of a booger and a hockey puck.
My unease hasn’t ceased now that I’ve brewed a few kombucha batches and found my SCOBYs multiplying like Tribbles. Right now I have one sitting atop a blueberry-ginger batch and another lurking above a green-tea-and-raspberry combination; when they’re ready, I’ll find their offspring, more baby SCOBYs, lurking in the jars. If I have time between making drinks, I might start naming them.
Kombucha G&T
Ice
2ounces dry gin
3/4ounce tonic syrup, such as Small Hand Foods or Tomr’s brand
3 to 4ounces plain kombucha, such as GT’s Enlightened Original Organic Raw Kombucha
Twist of lime peel, for garnish
Kombucha is a fermented tea that, when taken through a second fermentation stage, becomes effervescent. Though it can be odd-looking — strands of live yeast can often be seen drifting through — it’s also tasty, tart and slightly sweet. It doesn’t taste like tea; think lambic-style beer meets yogurt.
This recipe is a riff on the classic gin and tonic, but the multiple commercial varieties of kombucha available will allow you to try plenty of variations. Start with two ounces of spirit and four ounces of a complementary kombucha.
From Spirits columnist M. Carrie Allan.
Fill a highball glass with ice.
Stir together the gin and the tonic syrup in a mixing glass until thoroughly combined. Pour the mixture over the ice, then top with the kombucha. Garnish with the twist of lime.
Makes 1 serving.
SCOBY
2quarts water
1tablespoon black or green tea leaves
1/2cup sugar
12ounces store-bought raw kombucha, such as Capital Kombucha brand
Makes 2 starter-culture disks
Making kombucha starts with a live, symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast, or SCOBY: The odd, rubbery disk floats atop tea and causes the fermentation. You’ll need two wide-mouth quart-size jars, cheesecloth and rubber bands for this recipe.
Do not use reactive vessels for brewing kombucha or for storing the SCOBY; glass is best. And, should mold ever form on the SCOBY or in the kombucha, discard both and start over.
Sterilize the empty jars by placing them in a deep pot of boiling water over high heat; boil for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Use tongs to transfer the jars to a dish towel.
Boil the 2 quarts of water in a pot over high heat; remove it from the heat and add the tea. Allow the tea to steep for 30 minutes, then strain out the tea leaves, reserving the tea. Add the sugar to the tea and stir until completely dissolved. Let the mixture cool to room temperature before adding the kombucha; do not rush this step by adding the kombucha to the tea when it’s still too warm or you’ll kill the cultures. Stir gently and divide the mixture between the jars.
Cover each jar with a double layer of cheesecloth; secure the cheesecloth with rubber bands. Place the jars in a warm, dark place (between 72 and 85 degrees). After 2 to 4 weeks, you’ll see the SCOBY disks form on the surface of the tea; they can then be used to ferment batches of kombucha. You won’t want to drink the tea, which will have become quite sour.
Adapted from Daniel Lieberman of Capital Kombucha.
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