by Storm Garner
Culture Shock
a kombucha-drinker questions the appeal of this traditional tea-turned-cultural phenomenon
PrintIt was a hot, humid, July day in 2006, halfway through the second Bush administration. Every Democrat in DC was gasping for fresh air, enduring an unquenchable thirst for something pure, something true, something made of pronounceable ingredients.
I happened by a Whole Foods, wandered in, beelined to the refrigerated-bottled-beverage section, and spotted a newcomer amid the iced teas: “Organic Raw Kombucha.”
Organic is good, I thought. Raw is good. But what on earth is Kombucha? Moreover: is it really pronounceable? I picked it up and read the label: “KOMBUCHA (pronounced kom-BOO-cha) is a handmade Chinese tea that is delicately cultured for 30 days. During this time, essential nutrients form like: Active Enzymes, Viable Probiotics, Amino Acids, Antioxidants, and Polyphenols. All of these combine to create an elixir that immediately works with the body to restore balance and vitality.”
I checked the ingredients: “100% G.T.’s organic raw kombucha, and 100% pure love!!!” Pure love, huh? Great, just what I needed. I bought it without a second thought and opened it as soon as I had exited the overly air-conditioned store, taking a sip. I immediately felt betrayed by the label. “Gross!” I yelled telepathically. “I wasted almost four dollars on this!”
Then I chugged the rest of the 16 oz. bottle.
My unsettlingly emotional initial reaction to this queer brew made me question my sanity. I then experienced what many first time kombucha-drinkers do: I found myself sneaking it regularly, questioning and simultaneously trusting my newfound addiction.
And then I learned, to my great relief, that I was not alone. There is something about kombucha that does this to people, that lures them into these love/hate, addictive/secretive relationships. What, though? What could possibly compel people to allot a disproportionate fraction of their food budget to buying expensive bottled kombucha on a daily basis, to renovate their kitchen to allow for perpetual kombucha home-brewing, to pare down their social lives to include only fellow kombucha-lovers, or to spend all their free time perusing online kombucha-making discussion forums? Could it really be its scientifically unsubstantiated “health benefits”? I don’t see people joining cod liver oil meetup.com groups.
Two and a half years later, although I’m still just coming out of the kombucha closet, I am at least now a slightly more informed consumer.
Kombucha does contain sugar, even though the G. T. Dave’s brand doesn’t list sugar as an ingredient on their bottle. The substance is what you get when you put a pancake-shaped living kombucha SCOBY (Symbiotic Culture of Bacteria and Yeast) in a gallon of sugar and black tea and wait 15 to 30 days. Most but not all of the sugar is consumed in the fermentation process.
One of the many end products of the kombucha-making procedure is alcohol. G.T. Dave’s (the most heavily fermented, and therefore the most alcoholic of the bottled kombucha brands available in New York) claims its alcohol content is less than 1%, which is (conveniently) the legal limit for “non-alcoholic beverages.” Another product is a leftover piece of the “mother” culture, the slimy, oyster-like object that rests at the bottom of each kombucha bottle.
As kombucha ropes in more addicts, people are turning to cheaper methods to get their SCOBY-fix. “It’s definitely becoming more popular,” says Josh Garcia, a kombucha fan that ferments SCOBYs in his kitchen and sells them on Craigslist. “A few months ago, I had a waiting list going for people wanting to buy SCOBYs that I hadn’t even made yet.”
Making kombucha in your own kitchen is now not just for the hardcore enthusiasts. As Garcia says, “It was an economic choice. I realized how much I was spending on kombucha, and I knew I wasn’t going to stop drinking kombucha, so the only choice left was to get it cheaper. Which meant I had to start making it myself.” With the online SCOBY market thriving, homemade kombucha is easier to access than ever.
If you prefer your kombucha pre-packaged, though, High Country brand’s Wild Root flavor is by far the best-tasting bottled variety: it contains sasparilla and is reminiscent of home-brewed root-beer. For a cheaper fix, head to Barzini’s (at Broadway and 91st), which sells Wild Root cheaper than anywhere else in Manhattan—$2.99, versus up to $8 elsewhere.
Still, knowing more about kombucha doesn’t explain the strangely personal relationship that I, along with the numerous other NYC and Columbia addicts, have developed with the drink. I will inevitably sound New Agey as I try to explain my hypothesis: Kombucha is tangibly alive. Not only that, it’s a whole world-in-a-bottle, billions of diverse populations living together in symbiotic harmony. It conjures up images of “the galaxy is on Orion’s belt!” from Men in Black.
As students of heady stuff at a heady, stuffy Ivy League university, it’s easy for us to forget that we inhabit bodies. On a healthy day, for every trillion cells in our bodies, we host ten times as many microorganisms in our guts. Drinking kombucha—welcoming more microorganism into our macro-organisms—reminds us of both our mortality and our multiplicity.
26 February 2009
vol. 6, issue 5
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