At last I’ve learned how to make kombucha. That may sound like a nonsense sentence, but you should know that this drink (it’s a sort of fermented tea) is enormously addictive, and costs about $4.50 a thimble at grocery stores. It is perhaps the nearest I’ll ever approach to convincing myself that I’m restoring my HP/hearts/life bar (surely I can’t be the only child of the SNES who has a lingering potion fixation).
So, naturally I wasn’t content to just make it, and bottle it, and let that be that. I wanted it to sit there in my fridge, looking like something brewed in the misty mountains of insert-foreboding-word, bought from a witch’s stall in a back-alley market. Because I am that kind of nerd, and life is better if you give a story to everything you use, eat or own.
The bottles didn’t turn out as impressively as I’d have liked. Painting on glass is hard. Like, HARD, man. Even worse than painting on ceramics. It takes ten times longer than simply drawing something on a piece of paper, and leaves you with a streaky, wobbly mess. I’m trying to tell myself that this is part of the charm.
Oh the tea, by the way, is a bit of a variation on the standard formula. I used Ribena (blackcurrant nectar) for part of the sugar content, so it’s rather dark and purple (though not very much in the pictures), and a little bitter. I am exceedingly pleased with myself. Exceedingly pleased.