Friday, 28 February 2014


I grow my own kefir.
I got kefir grains from a friend who kept going on and on about billions of pets working on her sauerkraut, ginger beer, pickled anything, sake, fermented anything and, well, kefir. The grains look rather like snot but kefir snot wouldn't sound so cool. I threw the stuff, grains or snots, into a jar of cream and let them do their thing. It tasted great, kefirs kept growing and multiplying, I tried various milks and creams. The fermenting friend mentioned that the gossip has it that coconut milk is the only plant-based milk-like thing in which the kefirs multiply, I gave it a try and the thing didn't turn to sour coconut milk but to something orange, partly furry, that stank to high heaven. A rampant case of hitchhikers.

Hitchhikers are bacteria, yeasts or other little buggers that get to places where they shouldn't.

Said coconut nastiness went down the drain, fermenting friend mailed me a new batch which I keep happy in high fat milk or cream - in general. Usually I have a few batches brewing.

I generally hope for a boring life. A friend, not the fermenting one, said that I'd be better off if I sold the goddamn place and used the cash to move to Aruba. The idea of sitting on a porch, staring towards the horizon and doing nothing is extremely appealing and although I could do it legally, I decided not to as it wouldn't be fair, and kept hoping for boredom happening here. At which point we got hitchhikers. The school trip brought a stomach bug along and all the kids and teachers kept, how does one say it, suffering from sudden inner disturbances. The last thing I ever wanted, or the last thing I ever wanted of Thursday, Feb 27, as I foresee something nasty happening soon, was a hotel full of vomiting people with runs. I had to act so everyone got their personal bottle of bleach, washrag and gloves and their job was to disinfect all the door handles.

I talked to the nice guy in the Public Health Office, epidemics department; the mixture of wry humour and useful advice, along with actually talking to someone both literate and sane, was of substantial help.

The whole house smells of chlorine - very hygienic, what stinks of chlorine is disinfected - I decided to clean up the fridge. The other day, I left some herbs macerate in oil but instead of fragrant oil for my salads, I got oil with something gooey in it. I was worried that it might clog the pipes but they got clogged anyway so I used the good old cheap sodium hydroxide... and then the solution presented itself. Oil + sodium hydroxide = soap. If I were mean enough, I'd make bars and sold them on Etsy as hyper super organic handmade locally sourced soap but I just wanted my jar clean... and the other one that contained creme fraiche morphed to something orange that smelled of rotting cheese. Folks, hydroxide is as good as acid when it comes to getting rid of nasties. Also, my dishes are fully done now so I can go to bed (yes, at 4 pm) and be as depressed and tired as it gets.

No comments:

Post a Comment