I'm still on the same bike ride, trying to outrun — outpedal — the storm. Just thought "kombucha" sounded more interesting than "backpedaling IV" ....
Okay, so I made it to Sweet Berry Farm along a rocky, rutted driveway. The storm seemed to have blown by. I was tempted by strawberries but too lazy to pick my own, so I proceeded to the shop/market/store/whatever through a charming arch of intertwined greenery, something called Curly Willow. (I asked.)
I was hungry at this point; thirsty, too. It hadn't occurred to me to bring a water bottle when I'd set out an hour or two before — typical. I'd probably forgotten to eat lunch — also typical. Now torn between nutrition and temptation, I opted not for strawberries but for chocolate cows. I'd just seen some cows, hence the power of suggestion. Actually, these were peanut butter cows. Arguably healthy, right?? And seriously good.
Then I stood before the drink display: too many choices!! I frequently opt for green stuff — green tea or that ugly-if-yummy Superfood concoction; green stuff in general — but I didn't see anything familiar. The only green thing was a bottle of something called Organic Raw Kombucha. It promised to "rejuvenate, restore, revitalize, recharge, rebuild, regenerate, replenish, regain, rebalance, renew." Really, it said all that on the label. Who wouldn't buy it??
But even the cashier looked at it twice (it was pretty expensive), and said, "Huh. I've never seen this."
I wasn't sure how to take that ...
So I just took my cows and Kombucha outside to sit at a lovely little table under clearing skies. There seemed to be a bit of sediment in the bottom of the bottle, so I gave it a little shake and went to open it, whereupon the thing exploded — gushed — and all this white froth and sediment-laden greenish-brownish stuff overflowed and dripped down all over my hands and onto my bike shorts. It reminded me exactly of that classic second or third or fourth grade science project when Super Son (every kid has done this) had to make a volcano out of paper maché or some such thing then instigate the chemical reaction between baking soda and vinegar. (Is that the combination?? I may not have that quite right.)
Anyway, that was Kombucha ... except it had assorted seaweed-looking bits floating in it. It smelled weird, too; I wondered if it was rotten. But I was thirsty. And the stuff was expensive. And I didn't want to complain. So I tasted it; it was pretty awful. Then, about half-way through, I started worrying about the reaction that might end-up taking place in my stomach — especially when Kombucha met the peanut butter cows face-to-face. Thus I dumped the latter half on the ground — seeing no point in taking it with me and not wanting to risk further eruptions in my backpack as I continued on my bumpy way — and watched the stuff get all excited again as it bubbled and sizzled in the grass. I have half-a-mind to go back and see what happened to the grass. Did it thrive?? Did it die?? Meanwhile, I was getting the definite evil-eye from a cute little bird who had come to check out the commotion ...
Okay, that's ridiculous. He just wanted to share in my snack. And, after that, I rode home. Past the Norman Bird Sanctuary, where I did not stop (today). Then past both beaches bubbling and frothing away. Up both hills: Purgatory and Memorial ... except I took the back way (as usual) up Old Beach Road. I didn't have any more or less energy than usual, nor did I experience any adverse Kombucha reaction.
End of story.
