So several weeks ago…. I’m not sure how long ago that was, but we’ll say about 3—threeish anyway— i started brewing my own kombucha. You know, this fizzy fermented fabulous drank you (may not and for good reason) buy for a whopping $5 (<— good reason).
Well, I started brewing it a while back. And sometime between that time and last night, my boss came buy and said “ohhh, that smells just about right.” but the problem was my mamma (kombucha momma, or SCOBY, a symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast)
hadn’t formed yet, so i thought I would just let it keep going and I’d just deal with a slightly more acidic drink.
New Scene: last night. Took a look at is, took a whiff, saw that the mother had formed nicely, and then… a taste!
And the verdict……?
straight up battery acid. I had, in every conceivable way, let it go way to long, and become a vinegar SOOOO much more acidic than store bought vinegar.
This, rather than being a “fail” per se, is more of a “learning experience” such that now I know to get a mother fully formed (done) and go from there. I started a new batch last night, so I’ll let you know the verdict when I have one.
I’ve been prancing about all day with a just darling southern accent reminiscent of humble antebellum gents. It was only a short distance away from the truth, and more importantly, it put me in a right good mood.
Now none of that got nothing to do with my weekend, other than I’m happier now than I was not long ago. Keeping steady with my roots, lets have you sit down and stay a while as I tell you how the cornbread sho’ did crumble.
Now Saturday, I was aworkin’ the farmers market down over at Wooster Square, and Brian, well he took a notion to ride his fancy pants bicycle to Katherine’s just outside that damned yankee town Poughkipsee, New York. Now he rode up, and I took that car that done belong to the Slavs, principle among them Anna Rose.
Now everythang was real nice. Star gazin’. Movies. Little drive in the night’s cool air. And the next day, well that was nice too. First thang we did was go ahikin’ up to this firetower, making a pit stop at the ruins of the radical faeries of new england
Eventually we made it to the top. here’s proof….
…that it was hawt
Now, the mountain was fine and all, as was Woodstock, where all those damned hippies that done did too many drugs still live.
And here’s where the adventure starts…..
On the way home, the car stops about the same time I see we have very little gas. So, I’m like, okay, lets get some gas. Only no one had a gas can in the parking lot next to the closed (card only) gas station. So I’m like, okay, lets put the gas in an empty Svedka bottle. Which we do; very classy.
And that’s about the same time I notice the oil is low. Okay, I said, nbd. lets just get us some oil. oh wait, that shit was REAL low. how’s about another quart….
And then we finally get on our way, about an hour or so later.
And then the car stops. Again. In the same fashion it did the first time. Okay, I says, it wasn’t the gas then….
How about a jump from that bubba over there taking down the signs from his grage sale? hoekay.
Another half mile down the road, the car stops. yet again.
okay, i says, lets call dad, master mechanic of the greater Little Rock area.
"hummmm, sounds like your alternator went out"
Now I’ll skip over a couple of the deets, but lets just say that an hour or so later, Katherine’s dad gets there, jumps us two times to get down to the auto repair shop (at this point closed). we leave the car there, and decide to call in the morning, which her papa did.
And they fixed it. And we picked it up. And I was stressed but dealt with it.
Now, this story doesn’t even get into how the oil absolutly has to be replaced, how the hatch of “hatchback” sorta broke from the inside, how the plastic piece on the bottom came off and split in half, how the front bumper is about to fall off, and how generally with 220,000 miles, this car is on it’s last leg god bless its heart.
What a hell of a weekend. It was way stressful. I sortakinda wished it had been a little more vaction like, but I would like to think i did some growing in that time. took on a few adulthood responsibilities, albeit temporarily. I think part of being grown up is knowing how to be resourceful. That being said, let us not forget the generosity of others and the mantra of paying it forward.
I think imma stick to the have for a while. Next trip, i’ll be the good sustainably minded boy that I am and take public transportation.
your resident queer farmer
You’ll remember from way back when that me and my fellow interns did a number on the zukes hanging out in my ice box by making bread and butter pickles. Well, after two jars each, we still had a couple of bags that 1) we didn’t see, and 2) we desperately had to deal with. And the bunch of slightly limp-wrist carrots, Lawd! I just hate throwing things out, especially when they were grown with my own hard labour. So a quick google search of “zucchini and carrot” yeilded me with the gem of an idea to make a tasty spice bread.
Now, all sorts of fancy pants websites will try to tempt you with their recipes. But be warned, it’ll take you for a ride down the road of not-all-that-common ingredients and funky proportions. My solution was good ole Mark Bittman with How To Cook Everything's Carrot Bread, slightly adapted for the proportions of things I had.
1/2 stick butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup white sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup milk or juice
1 cup carrot
1 cup yellow zuke
after you have your oven preheated to 350, mix yo dry ingredients together and cut in butter
then beat the milk/juice and egg, add it to the dry mix (but not until it’s smooth, just less than that). add in the carrots and zukes
than back for about an hour (a bit more in my oven) and you get this gorgeous outcome
Now don’t y’all worry, there will be more carrots and there will be more zukes. Bread is likely in your future.
Adapted from this recipe found online. To make 5 pints, we quadrupled the recipe (except the cucumbers), which is posted below.
We still haven’t tried them, but I think they ought to be crispy and wonderful. If we end up getting botulism, i’ll let you know