Okay, so let’s talk kombucha for a few moments, shall we? I finally broke down and bought a couple of bottles at my local co-op, thinking I needed variety in my AF bevvies. Since so many people here rave about “the booch,” and because it was on sale (2 for 5 bucks still ain’t cheap, y’all…but I’m getting ahead of myself), I thought I’d take a walk on the AF wild side this week and experiment (that’s why we’re here, right?! Learning and growing TAE Way!).

After my first (and maybe last) bottle, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are soooo many things wrong with kombucha, I don’t even know where to start, but give me a moment, and you’ll soon discover I won’t know when to quit…a part of me is really sad about this revelation, that I had such a visceral response to it. I absolutely expected to take to it like water—I mean, I love pickles, olives, sauerkraut, kimchee, vinaigrette—all the sour, vinegary stuff! Even Sour Patch kids! Love the puckery-puckieness of it all! BUT. I discovered, NOT IN BEVERAGE FORM. It was like when I discovered I absolutely abhor eggplant when I absolutely expected to love it—I will eat nearly all veggies, happily, and coming from rural MN where most of our veggies are in potato form, eggplant seemed exotic and sophisticated, and that color! My favorite! What’s not to love??!! But, alas, it triggers my gag reflex every damned time, unless breaded and fried to a crips to the point it resembles a potato chip more than eggplant and no nutrients remain. BUT, I do love baba ganoush and to use this emoji like a damned teenager—>🍆 so all is not lost there…but, I digress.

Even at 2/$5, Kombucha is not cheap. One of the lovely side effects of quitting drinking is the money that’s literally pouring back into my bank account (okay, maybe not *literally,* though I’m always pleasantly surprised when I get my restaurant tab lately, and my grocery bill is easily $25-30 cheaper every time), and I just can’t justify swapping one expensive habit for another…I know there are a million and twelve brands and an equal number of flavors and varieties in each brand (had a mini-anxiety attack in the co-op, just trying to chose a couple from the dizzying array), and maybe I can get it cheaper by the case on Amazon or Thrive (are they the same people, btw??!! Nevermind, don’t answer—stop, Jen. Focus, focus…); it seems like an enormous waste of time and potential suffering to find one that I might like at a price that makes it worth it. And, I get it, kombucha, like eggplant, might be an “acquired taste,” but so is beer. And wine. And liquor…

And about that warning, “don’t shake the bottle?” HOLY SHIT, THEY ARE NOT KIDDING. #kombuchavolcanoinmylivingroom. Drinking something that’s a hazard to my living room decor is where I draw the line, and that’s all I have to say about the boochie. I fully expect a kombucha backlash to my observations—there are plenty of zealots in this group but your efforts will be futile, you will not change my mind. (though, in full disclosure, I’m a “never say never” kinda gal; I may serendipitously happen upon a flavor that converts me, though I’m not about to force the issue. To each their own. We’re all doing this in the way that makes the most sense for us on our own journey; these are my initial thoughts this morning after spraying my living room with Cayennade ‘booch…) Booch on, all you nutty kombucha lovers! I’m with you in spirit over here with my boring cran-raspberry fizzy water… 💜🍆💜🍆