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Bringing Up Baby
Life with an antioxidant-rich kombucha culture isn't all mushrooms and squiddles.
Friday Jan 11, 2008.     By Sharon Hoyer
Centerstage Chicago Nightlife City Guide Arts

Kombucha and child
photo: Sharon Hoyer

About three weeks ago, after much cajoling, my roommate Sadie finally obtained a kombucha from her friend Brian. While Brian was thrilled to introduce the curative tea to our home, the slimy blob came with a longer list of instructions than the infant of an overprotective father. "Make sure you keep it in a big jar. The bigger the better. And be sure to keep it warm. If you have any questions, call me." His level of concern is common among kombucha aficionados; we were about to join the secret society of moonshiners who brew their own immortal health elixir from a fungus, obtainable only from other members of the brotherhood.

As a recovering mycophobe, the idea was both fascinating and repulsive to me. The list of alleged health benefits of kombucha tea wraps around the block. At the peak of its popularity in the early '90s, folks drank it to alleviate everything from AIDS to the gout—and brewing our own entailed a biological DIY that's close to my heart. But this wasn't tending a garden; this was growing a weird, mushroom-y mass in a vat of acidic liquid. While I was strangely excited at the prospect, I completely sympathized with Brian's roommate, who looked all too relieved to have one less jar of creepy in the kitchen.

Despite its appearance, kombucha isn't a mushroom at all, but a SCOBY, Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria and Yeast (thirsty yet?), which produces a whole lot of beneficial antioxidants, amino acids and B vitamins as they feed on sugar and tea. "Kombucha" is something of a misnomer; in Japan, the word refers to a therapeutic tea made from kelp. Maybe kombucha is just a more appetizing word than SCOBY, which sounds like a cross between Pokemon and a parasitic mite. But then, kombucha cultists have invented a whole lexicon of cute terms for gross-looking stuff: The mature cultures are referred to as mothers; the zoogleal mats that bud from them are their babies; and the yeasty sludge clinging to the bottom of each (a desirable occurrence, mind you) is nicknamed "brown squiddles."

Our own adopted culture looked particularly squiddle-heavy, sliding around in three inches of fluid at the bottom of a pickle jar. I had trouble picturing myself ingesting the by-product of this alien matter, but over 2,000 years of Chinese wisdom is not often wrong. Kombucha tea dates back the Qin Dynasty and, like acupuncture, Qi Gong and any number of therapeutic practices the AMA and FDA won't take a stance on, has a small army of devotees who swear to its curative effects. Bottles of GT's Kombucha, a very tasty commercial version, claim to suppress the appetite, improve hair and skin, and boost energy levels. While none of this is definitively proven, the vitamins and antioxidants in the brew are certainly good for you, and the vinegary liquid may well aid digestion and keep intestinal flora in bloom.

And it tastes good. Really! It's tart and sweet with a slight effervescence. By the time Hugo (the temptation to name a SCOBY is irresistible. You should have seen us squeal when Hugo popped off its first baby) had finished brewing, I poured myself a glass of pee-colored tea without hesitation. The potent bouquet slapped me in the nose as I took my first sip. Now I'm hooked.

If you care to dabble in the dark arts of kombucha brewing, follow the simple recipe below. You'll need to know somebody to get started (or you can pay $20 online for a mail-order mother), but if you don't have any insider friends, send me an email and I'll happily add you to the adoption list.

1. Bring 3 quarts of water to a boil.
2. Steep tea of your choice. Green and white teas have the highest levels of antioxidants.
3. Stir in 1 cup sugar. Cover and allow to cool to room temperature.
4. Pour into a brewing container with a wide mouth—ideally a pyrex bowl or large jar. Use glass containers only; plastic and metal can leach harmful contaminants into the brew.
5. Add kombucha culture.
6. Add 2 cups fermented starter brew or distilled white vinegar.
7. Cover with paper towel or tightly-woven clean cloth, and put in warm, dimly lit spot.
8. Allow to ferment to taste: 6-14 days. Too soon and the brew tastes sugary; too long and it turns to vinegar.
9. Save 1-2 cups of brew to start another batch. A new SCOBY will form about every ten days. You can leave it in with the mother or separate it out to start another brew.

Important note: Growing a raw bacterial culture requires proper sanitation. Make sure your hands and tools are clean before you start. If you see green, fuzzy mold develop on the kombucha, toss the whole batch and start fresh. You can always find another one.

It took a move from the regimented lawnscapes of the suburbs to the congestion of a major metropolis for Sharon to look twice at what she puts in the trash, down the sink and into her own body. She reports fortnightly on her endeavors to change "greening" from calculated deviation to a practicable way of life. You can contact her here.