“Look! It has alcohol in it!” One of blue-clad ladies on duty for breakfast, rushed over to her friend at the register. “See here,” she stated emphatically with her finger on the ingredient list. The other cafeteria woman chuckled as she punched in the price of a student’s breakfast. Kombucha had appeared in Gordon’s cafeteria that morning, and it was the talk of the kitchen workers.
Kombucha is a fermented, sweetened, fizzy tea, which has certain health benefits including improving digestion and supporting your liver. My mom has been trying to coax me into drinking it for years, being a staple of her after-dinner rituals. “Veronica, it taste good. Really.” The faintly-vinegar tasting elixir is made using a colony of bacteria and yeast, which is a strange, rubbery, disk shaped organism. I’ve never really had the desire to drink it, because the brewing process, a frequent fixture of our kitchen countertop, was hardly an appealing advertisement. The sight of a massive jar of orange-ish liquid with something strange lining the top induced me to refuse my mother’s occasional offerings of the drink.
However, things change. I don’t know if it was Kombucha’s recent rise in general popularity or if it was the transformative power of college, but I’ve found my sentiments on the probiotic liquid to be adjusted. Now, its tangy taste is quite appealing to me. I concede, my mother was right.