kombucha

Kombuchaholic by vanessa

I am 37k feet in the air right now on my way to NYC. This morning I caught an Uber at an unnatural hour. I have this thing about flying where I compulsively drink fluids so my skin doesn't look like a cracked desert floor when I get off the plane. Typically, I drink a huge glass of water before I leave, then bring my Sigg bottle with me or buy a liter bottle of water at the airport, then order more water onboard. It's a time-released hydration program. But at 5:20 this morning, my Uber driver arrived, I hadn't had any water and I couldn't find my Sigg lid. I grabbed the next best thing for the ride to the airport: a bottle of kombucha. This kombucha:kombucha

I have been drinking GT's kombucha since either 2004 or 2005. The tatted, dreadlocked dude at the hole by my work recommended it. "It's an acquired taste," he said. I loved it. It was a time in my life I was obsessed with sauca and drawn to anything purported to purify the body.

In 2010 my kombucha days came crashing down. As lore goes, Lindsay Lohan failed a court-ordered test for alcohol in her system and she blamed it on the fermented yeasty beverage. Whole Foods and other retailers pulled it off their shelves, the government got involved, and it was basically like prohibition. A year or so later, when the product was finally re-introduced, the GTs that I knew and loved just didn't taste the same. Or maybe I made that up, but it fell flat. Until they introduced their original recipe, re-branding it as the kind for the over 21 club. I am not sure where on google I read this, but I recall reading that their new formulas had two probiotics missing. Moreover, the original recipe didn't necessarily have 0.5% ABV, it's that it couldn't be consistently measured to not have 0.5%, hence the labeling. In short, the alcohol version is better.

I have staunchly defended the practice of drinking brown bottle GTs. (In my own head.) When I was pregnant I asked my midwife if it was okay to drink the original formula. The fact that she admonished me for having a glass of wine at a friend's birthday dinner at five months pregnant gave me confidence that she would have told me if it were unsafe. She said it was fine, so throughout my pregnancy I would pick up a bottle with the rest of my groceries. Twice I had male checkers tell me that alcohol was harmful to my fetus. I wanted to say, "Probiotics, duh," but I only ever stared in return.

So anyway, this morning. I got in the front seat--is that weird?--and immediately clarified the type of kombucha I was drinking before six a.m. I explained about extra probiotics. He hadn't asked. "Look," he said, "I don't care if you pull out a Schlitz's malt liquor right now." We drove to the airport and listened to jazz.

 

 

New Stuff on the Block by vanessa

Guess what?!  vanessafiola.com is getting a make-over.  Yep!  My super talented friend Katrina from Brandish Type is working her artistic wizardry.  In about two months you won't even recognize me this site.

In the process of brainstorming, I got to do all sorts of research for sites, pictures, and inspirational whatnot to give her an idea of my aesthetic.  Turns out, I love Alexander Wang, steampunk-y stuff, and the impose of analog on digital.  In my copious research, I also learned that if your business has the word "creative" in it, chances are you aren't.

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Another page in the Great Kombucha Prohibition.  My go-to place in Hollywood ran out!  I panicked.  Fortunately I remembered that my friend RKells spotted some in Echo Park.  On Saturday she texted me the location and I picked up 10 bottles!  Grape!  Ginger!  And then later that day the second most fortuitous thing happened -- I found another source in Franklin Village.  So you know what?  Eff the Whole.  (Sorry Alo, but this has gotten out of hand.)

***
Happy Birthday, CLu!  You pale to no one.

Lucky Me by vanessa

Today was my fourth day in my 3 for 30  plan.  Over the last several days I've exercised my ears off and have done a bunch of creative stuff.  You should see my stick drawings.

As far as the nice things go, well, did you ever see the movie Kick-Ass?  It was awesome.  Anyway, I'm a little like the inchoate action hero walking the streets looking for a mugger to thwart.  The nice stuff isn't just hanging on trees, you know.  So I'm a little pleased with myself that I've managed the following:  let a stranger have a parking spot, supported my neighbor by seeing his play, helped a friend with her writing, and agreed to refrain from mentioning my mother's impending birthday on this blog 'cause she specifically asked me not to. (Since it's not her birthday yet, I figure this doesn't technically count.)

I'd like to think my charity hasn't gone unnoticed.   After dance today, I stopped by the Santa Monica Co-op to grab some G-water.  I threaded the aisles, strolling past the refrigerated foods section.  I made my way toward the checkout, when out of the corner of my eye I caught a row of familiar bottles to my left.  I looked again.   Great news, guys!  Turns out, there IS a Holy Mother of Jesus.  Right there, between the raw chocolate mouse and vegan pad thai, I happened upon this goodness:

And since this is working out so well, tomorrow I'm going to do TWO nice things.

'

It might as well be Prohibition by vanessa

Kombucha and I go back about six years.  I fondly remember my first flavor (Original), followed rapidly by my second (Grape).  Since then, I've developed a pretty healthy habit to it, in a totally healthy, not-an-alcoholic kind of way.  

A few weeks ago when I was in Europe, news travelled across the pond that my beloved was being pulled from Whole Foods because of concerns over the alcohol content in the product.  I panicked slightly because I couldn't do much about being 6,000 miles away.  There would be no running to the ten Wholes near my house to stockpile for the winter.  No big deal, I reasoned, I live in Los Angeles.  You can get anything in Los Angeles.  I ignored the nagging urge to send out an SOS to Dre.

And this is why you should NEVER, EVER ignore your gut:  because you will be savagely deprived of kombucha for what will feel like the rest of your life.

Upon my return, I discovered that not only did Whole Foods stop carrying it, but so did EVERY OTHER STORE in the entire United States.  Motherscratchers.  I took Dre's last bottle.  I rationalized that since I bought it for her, and she knew the depths of my love (for kombucha, that is), that she'd understand.  And also that she probably wouldn't notice it missing for a good week, and by which time, God help us, it'd be back in commission.  It wasn't.  It hasn't been, and we're nearing four weeks.

You know what gets me the most?  Well, the second-to-most?  That the Whole, and most other places, are carrying tons of this bullshit impostor.  As if we're not on to your pasteurized scam, fellas.  I've already reviewed Wonder Drink, okay?  Oh, it's a wonder, alright.

I would make my own, but see, I can barely keep a cactus alive, let alone the most awesome fungus in the world.

And then the thing that most bothers me, that really, really saddens me, is that -- fine, I'll show my ID -- just put it back on the shelves.  You win, Anonymous, I *am* a total alcoholic just addicted to the buzz.  Whatever.   I don't care.  Please give me my effervescent goodness back.

But all is not totally bleak.  Today offered a lone bright spot in my otherwise solemn plight.  At the farmer's market this morning, I went to the truck where I get my raw dairy products.  On Sundays I usually buy a kombucha from them for my stroll through the stands.  It kind of makes the walk more entertaining... Anyway, they were out today, but assured me that they will have some next week, and will reserve an entire case for me!!   I fell dizzy.  It gets even better.  They sell it for only $2.50 a bottle.  $2.50!!  And I know a handful of jonesing yogis who would gladly pay triple that.  It's black market time, baby.

 

On the road again by vanessa

Last night we went to see Easy Rider at the cemetery.  Dang.  Who knew Peter Fonda was hot?  During the movie I wondered whether in the early 70s there were scores of women who already figured this out.  Now onto business.

You know, I like going to the cemetery as much as the next girl, save two things.   
1.  Donations that aren't really donations.  You see, when you *require* a fee in order to enter, it's no longer a "donation".  It's a fee.  The fact that you're non-profit doesn't change the definition of a word.  (Btw, the same can be extended for yoga classes, church or any other racket that pretends like you don't *have* to pay, but you'd get dirty looks or a lecture if you didn't.)
Friends, it's not the money I care about.  In fact, $10 is a fair amount to spend for the experience.  Just be honest about what that $10 is and don't call it something it's not.  Okay. Next:
2.  High chairs.  No, not the kind that a baby sits in, though they're nearly that tall.  These are the lawn chairs that are more than 6 inches - 1 foot off the ground.  I'm glad YOU can see, buddy, but NO ONE behind you can.  If you're too cheap to buy lower ones, then at least be cool and sit in the very back.  (Note:  the same goes for you Everest types at concerts.)
That is all.
***
Yesterday I promised you a kombuch update, and I don't like to disappoint, so here you go.   I have a new favorite flavor!  
Drum roll, please....
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You'll recall that I've previously lambasted High Country for their lameness.  But I'm a humble girl (kinda), and I can admit when I've gotten something wrong.  Either that or they changed their formula.  Whatevs, they deserve their props -- it's GOOD!  The flavor is a little bit root beer, a little bit rock-n-roll, and a whole lotta smoove.