Bucha

I can’t say I have any certain meal that I call a comfort food. When the phrase comes up, I think of warm tater tot hot dishes with peas and corn mixed in. I both love and hate these meals as they taste delicious and remind me of puke simultaneously. However, I can say that I have a comfort drink.

I discovered it one night after a run at the college gym. I took a stroll by the library and put in some money in one of the many vending machines lining the building. Just about everything in them I hate except for the nonflavored bottled water. Thankfully, there were a few more options at the machine that I stopped at. Those options were a set of attractive glass bottles labeled kombucha. I did not know what kombucha was, but was drawn to its bizarre name.

My sweaty fingers typed in the vending number. I grabbed the drink from the bottom, opened it, and looked at it for a few seconds in mild surprise. What looked like a fine mist came wafting out from the bottle. A strong fizz followed alike to what I’d seen from sodas. The glass was a dark brown and much thicker than I’d expected when I put it up to my lips.

I was half certain I’d drank something alcoholic when the liquid went through my throat, singeing it from the fizz. The drink tasted like fizzy ginger tea and I liked it despite the small sting in my throat. This was the first time I’d drank kombucha and the beginning of weekends dragging bags of heavy glass bottles into the outdoor recycling from my dorm.

Kombucha is a wonderful or terrible tasting drink, depending on who you ask. Its ingredients are essentially one bizarre concoction of fermented cultures with a potential vinegar aftertaste. I hate the taste of vinegar but don’t mind the taste of kombucha. I also don’t mind that many of the organic brands have culture particles floating at the bottom that look like remnants of rotting fruit submerged in liquid. The bottle labels of many Kombucha brands are filled with so many colorful eastern patterns that it looks like the drink could take me on an acid trip.

I don’t think I’ve met anyone else who likes kombucha. I once had my brother drink one. All he did was complain that the drink tasted too fermented to guzzle down in a few swigs. I remember him taking off the cap nonchalantly, sniffing it, sipping it, and then negatively remarking that he needed to sip it in order to drink it. I guess that’s expected from someone who drank several large cans of Peace Tea every day in high school. Once I got my mom to try Kombucha. Unlike my brother, she refused to get a bottle of her own, so I poured some of mine into a small shot glass. The second the drink touched her lips, she cringed and put it back down. The taste had too much vinegar for her and she never drank it again. I don’t understand why kombucha turns so many off, it’s not much more than fizzy tea and likely not much stronger tasting than most alcoholic drinks. It’s also great to have at 2am.

After some nights at the gym, I’d usually take one to drink afterwards like I did on my first night. Sweating and sticky from the humid night air, I’d walk down the street, guzzling it, listening to Judas' priest at full blast through my ear buds. That was my habit throughout junior year. I felt pumped and rejuvenated with the coolness of the drink and its tangy flavor. This drink stung my throat like fire while loud guitar riffs snuffed out any surrounding noise on the dark streets. When I got to my dorm room, I’d place it next to my computer and drink it through to 2 am while listening to more Priest blaring in my earbuds. The drink had high amounts of caffeine, but perhaps that was for the better in these situations.

The only other person I’ve seen as a serious kombucha drinker was a food challenge youtuber called the LA beast. A few years ago he made a homemade batch that looked like purple bile when he poured it into a gallon sized glass. The piquant liquid fizzed out onto the table while culture sedimented to the bottom of what then looked like a tall witch’s goblet. It took roughly thirty minutes of horror before he finished the kombucha. The LA beast had guzzled it non-stop until the glass he’d completely drained the glass. Every few seconds, he would gag and compare his suffering to some cartoon character. This was one of my favorite LA beast videos. I’d always end up laughing so hard I could barely breathe by the end of his antics.

I’ve had many positive memories with kombucha, as kombucha is an essence of me. It’s also an essence of the LA beast and any other individual who likes fermented drinks that look like grey water.