Kombucha is a fermented drink made from sugar-sweetened black tea. If you buy it commercially, it’s pricey! Fortunately, it’s super easy to make so let’s talk about homemade kombucha. How do you start? First, you need a SCOBY. SCOBY stands for Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria & Yeasts. It’s this weird-rubbery-pancake-floating thing that consumes the sugar in the tea mixture and creates the fermented end-product of kombucha. The bigger your SCOBY, the more “fuel” (sugar) you need for the same fermentation time. Temperature also affects fermentation time. It happens faster in warmer temps and slower in cooler temps. I started with a tiny little SCOBY that formed in a batch of kombucha a friend gave me. It was just a small disc about the size of a half dollar. He had given me some and we really enjoyed the it, so I was saving the rest. I asked my friend how to make more and he said “just feed it sweet tea!”. I needed amounts and details so, off I went to the internet and here we are a couple of years later, still drinking it from the original batch!

You need a vessel in which to brew your kombucha. I have a 1.5 gallon glass container with a dispenser at the bottom and a lid. It came from our Adequate Wal-Mart. You can use almost any glass/clay/crock but nothing plastic or stainless. It provides us with about 1 gallon of kombucha every 4-5 days. I leave it on my kitchen counter or you can put it in a dark pantry. Just make sure it’s not in bright light or direct sunlight. On “harvesting” day, I take my SCOBY out of the vessel and slide it onto a large plate.

Then, I pour off the kombucha into a gallon bowl with a pour spout. There’s usually somewhere between 1-2 cups of left-over kombucha at the bottom that will be somewhat cloudy and has sediment that I pour into another glass jar and I save that as my “starter” for the next batch. I pour the kombucha into quart jars and lid tightly and these go into the fridge until we are ready to drink. You can drink it room temp but we prefer it cold. Then, I wash my vessel (the container NOT the SCOBY!) with soap and warm water and let it dry. To feed my kombucha, I use a strong black tea made of a 1 gallon tea bag and 1 cup of white sugar. I use warm-to-hot water, about 2 cups, and stir to dissolve the sugar. Then, I add cold water up to about 3.5 cups total to cool it somewhat before adding my big gallon tea bag. (Adding the tea bag when the water is hot can make your tea cloudy.) I will make this early in the day so it has plenty of time to steep and provide a richer tea flavor for my kombucha. So, into the clean, empty vessel goes the cooled, strong black tea, my starter liquid from the previous batch, and then about 12 more cups of filtered water. I take the SCOBY off the plate and slide it in on top and lid it.

Then, it goes back into its happy little spot until the next harvest. This is not an exact science. If I want more flavorful kombucha, I may use a bit less water – or if it looks pale, I’ll steep more tea for darker color. There is a varying level of fermentation (bubbles!) that occurs, especially in warmer temps. If you want lots of bubbles, you can do a second fermentation in tight-sealing bottles. That’s a whole different post!

So… my Dad died. Absolutely suddenly, he died. He died in the wee hours of the morning on the longest day of the year, the Summer Solstice, June 21st, 2019. I am sure he did not mean to. It was not in his plan to abandon my sweet Mom a full days drive from anyone who knew her. When my husband woke me up that morning, earlier than usual, I looked at the clock and knew something was wrong. I was right about that, just wrong about the “what”. In my sleepy state, I thought it was the big, dumb stray cat we had been intermittently feeding. Tommy Tom Tom had been around for months, more absent than present, but, we had a thing.

He’d be on the porch and would allow us to love on him for just a bit before tiring of the affection and demanding his breakfast, or dinner, or second breakfast or just a snack. That was our deal, we would give the love, he would get the food. Simple. It worked on both sides. Anyway, Tommy Tom Tom had been appearing less and less and I started to worry about him disappearing completely. So, when I would get up, always later than my husband, it was typically the first thing would ask. “Did you see the cat?” “Was Tommy here?” So, that day, when he woke me up a full 15 minutes early (!!), I knew something was bad wrong. I asked if something had happened to that big tom cat. My husband said, “No. But, I need to tell you something. I just got off the phone with your Mom…” Well, a 5am call from your mother-in-law with a 2 hour deficit on her end could only be something bad. Real bad. He told me as kindly and as gently as he could that my Dad was gone from a probable heart attack. He was gone.

Which was truly awful. But, what seemed worse at that time, was my parents had been on the road between Wyoming and Arizona and I knew my Mom was now alone. Well, she had Diego, but what good was a tiny rescue chihuahua in a situation like this? I knew I had to get to my Mom. My phone map said I was about 15 hours by car to where they had spent the night in a hotel in Mesquite, Nevada, which is about 90 miles outside of Las Vegas.  Don’t think I didn’t consider jumping in my car & driving to her in my pajamas, because I did.  Just briefly, though.  We certainly did not need 2 cars once I got to her.  Fortunately, they make airplanes and the sweet customer service rep at Southwest Airlines was able to get me on the last available seat on the plane that was leaving by the time I could skid into the airport.  So, I showered and threw a few things in a bag and went to our office to cancel our expected work day.  I texted as many patients as I could, called the rest.  Crying and saying we needed to be closed due to a “death in the family.”  Everyone was kind and compassionate and I was reminded why we live here, in this dry west Texas town that is not lovely, but, the people most certainly are.  Cancel the patients, place a sign on the door, change the answering machine:  these are the absurd tasks you do to close unexpectedly, on the first day of summer, when your Dad dies. 

My husband offered to go with me, but there was just the one seat on the plane…and he needed to be here as his Mom was nearing the end of her journey with end-stage COPD.  He drove me to the airport while I called and texted my Mom.  There was a small circle of people who needed to know, but, most of them were not early-rising people.  My Dad’s only sister, Aunt Martha, lives in the town between my house and the airport.  I was not able to reach her with repeated calls and text messages but I had about 14 minutes of grace and we stopped by her home.  I wasn’t even sure if she was in town, but after a couple of dings on her doorbell, she did answer.  I proceeded to ruin her day and add to her grief of losing her younger daughter several years back and, then, her husband earlier this year.  It was awful.  Being the older sister, she never considered he might leave us first.  Was it a car wreck?  That would have made more sense because everyone knew Dad was a healthy, active guy.  We were all just in shock.  I could not imagine this man, who was so completely full-of-life, was no longer with us.  That is the repeating comment I heard from nearly everyone.  “He was so healthy!”  He ate right and he exercised and none of that mattered.  Except, it did.  You see, Dad always expected to die young.  His own father had died in his 50’s and, for whatever reason, you don’t expect to outlive your parents.  So, my Dad made it his mission in life to have as much fun as he could, always!  He did it all.   He rode motorcycles.  He scuba dived.  He swam, biked and ran a few triathalons.  He hiked.  He 4-wheeled. He golfed for a bit.  He life-guarded.  He taught aerobics. But, mostly, he played a cubic shit-ton of tennis, and, more recently, pickle ball.  And, these were his favorites.  From the time he retired at age 45, his main focus was playing tennis, stringing rackets and teaching others to play.  For 29 years, it was his job.  And, he loved it.  The pattern was play, eat, sleep, repeat.

Since retiring, my parents had lived where there was access to “good tennis”.  Unfortunately, this was a couple of states away from me.  There were some years I saw them only a couple of times, always around my birthday and usually near the holidays.  Sometimes there was a bonus visit in the fall, but not always.  For the last several years, I had made an annual trek to see them in January.  Just me.  It was always a great time.  Dad would drill me in tennis and brag on how nice my strokes were. 

We would work out together, play tennis and eat good food for a long weekend.  Mom & Dad would introduce me to all their friends and everyone got to tell me how awesome my parents are, which, of course, I knew well.

Between those in-person visits, we always talked and texted regularly.  Well, not regularly.  Sometimes we would be in contact 3 or 4 times in one day, then, sometimes not for 3-4 days.  Mom & I were better at talking and she would usually put me on speaker so Dad could hear our conversation.  Dad & I might go 3 or 4 weeks without talking but he would always say, “I get to hear you visiting with your Mom, so I “feel like” we have talked!”  And, usually, he would holler and “I love you” at me during those Mom calls.  What I am grateful for is that I had just gotten home from a visit to see my parents just before he died.  My sister-friend (from 48 years of knowing her) and I had traveled to Wyoming and spent a long weekend playing and hanging out with Mom & Dad.

They have considered her their “chosen” daughter for many years, especially after she lost both of her parents as a young adult.  Mom & Dad taught us how to play pickle ball and we had a great time.  We came home to our regular lives and 9 short days later my Dad died.  But, oh wow, he lived!  He lived big and on his own terms.  He lived how he wanted and where he wanted and he enjoyed every moment.  I am so grateful that he taught me a game he loved in our final days together.  It is such a perfect ending to our journey.  I am so grateful I got to have the best Dad for 50 years.  I am so grateful that he loved me and he was proud of me and told me so, many times. I am so grateful my parents had almost 53 years of a beautiful, loving marriage to teach me how couples love and respect and grow together.

I am so grateful for a million things about my Dad.  But, mostly, that he gave me my enthusiasm for life and gift of undying optimism in any situation.  He had that and I have that from his example.  Wow. What an amazing gift!  What a Dad!  

For the first 40 years of my life, I had a sister.  Six years ago, in the earliest hours of a Tuesday morning, all that changed.  She lost her battle with breast cancer and I became an only child.  At the time, I grieved – but, not so much for myself.  I grieved for her children who had lost their Mom too soon.  I grieved for her husband who had been present since the time of her diagnosis.

And, mostly, I grieved for my parents who suffered the most unholy pain, the loss of their firstborn.

We were “as different as night and day,” and she would definitely have been “night”.  I often described her as a Dr. Pepper kid in a Coca Cola family.  Literally.  I was the one doing my homework and going to bed early, she was the one staying up late and sneaking out to meet friends.  Kim did stuff that never even occurred to me!  I was younger and in awe of her defiance and bravery.  And, when she got caught… Whew!  Even more so.   Our Mom says she paved every road for me and this is true.  I did my “younger sister” job so well — I annoyed her and tested her and tagged along with her and her friends.  She was one of the last to get a hardship driver’s license before the law changed and it became harder to qualify.  She was a freshman in high school.  I can only imagine the injustice she felt having to drag me out to lunch once I got to high school a short 6 months later with “her” friends.  She drove me back and forth to school and then to tennis practice.  She was smothered and aggravated by the responsibility of me.  I knew it, but until I got my own wheels, we endured it.  As sisters, we were very close at times, and then there were times I didn’t know where she was, emotionally or physically.  I still have the last email she ever wrote me.  I haven’t read it in a very long time, but I keep it because it’s one of the few things I have of hers.  She was mad at me.  She was tired of doctor visits and tired of chemo and radiation.  She was tired of not being well and felt unsupported by me.  This was where I failed her.  I didn’t have the skills to support her in the way she needed and she didn’t understand that I supported her and loved her in her journey.  Every. Single. Step.  I remember taking her to a number of doctor visits.  In between the exam room times, we would laugh and talk.  She could make me laugh like I have never before or since.  One particular doctor was in the Metroplex and we were driving from west Texas.  Out and back in one day, it was a LONG day.  We met up and she was late, much later than our agreed time.  She was carrying a Sonic bag and a big Coke…maybe it was a Dr. Pepper.  I don’t know.  Anyway, there was just barely time to get there with a quick stop – I’m thinking for lunch.  She wanted to stop by the Harley Davidson shop to look around…so, we did and if you know me, this proves how much I love her because I just don’t skip meals.  What I do remember about that trip was the drive home.  We had one of our laughing marathons and I laughed so hard I was crying and trying not to drive off into the bar ditch.  I am so grateful for that time with her.  One thing that continues to surprise me is how jealous I am.  When friends of mine post pictures on Facebook or Instagram of “Sister’s Day” or my Mom and her sisters take a “Sister Trip” I feel that nasty pang of envy.  I want MY sister.  I want to take new pictures and share new laughs and go places with her.  I want to call her with a memory only she and I share.

I want to ask her about some small detail that eludes me that she could always recall.  I cannot change this reality so, I focus on the old pictures, the happy memories and send of prayer of thanks for the years when I did have a sister looking out for me.

She loved sweet tea, Thanksgiving (which she referred to as “Christmas without the crap”), being a nurse and her kids.  My goodness, she LOVED her kids.  She claimed to not be a “dog person” but she was kind to all my animals and took in strays, of both the canine and feline variety, regularly.  If you were ever in a street fight, you would most definitely want her on your side.  I made better grades but she told me once, well after we were grown, that her IQ was higher than mine.  I believe it, too.

We have a wedding approaching.  Kim’s oldest will marry a wonderful man next month.  I’m grieving now.  I have grieved her at Thanksgiving’s and Christmas’s and birthdays and graduations, but I wish she were here to celebrate this with her daughter.  With me.  With this family that would not exist were it not for her.

She knew how to be brave.  I saw it.  I will honor her and be brave, too.

Can I just tell you how good this is?  Perfectly tender spaghetti-like veggie, topped with grass-fed butter, EVOO, salt & pepper, grated cheese, chopped brisket and a drizzle of barbeque sauce…. for “just get in my belly” decadence…  Fortunately, you can make your own and experience it yourself!  Even better!

With our recent drought-ending rains, local squash crops have been booming.  I can’t wait to tell you about my tomato plants…!!  With all this abundance, it’s great to have this winner of a recipe at the ready.  Of course, you can customize depending on what you have available (Mexican taco meat + guacamole + sour cream would be divine!) but this is what I had on hand.  My friend dropped off 3 beautiful spaghetti squash (thank you, Honey Guy!) and this is what happened:    Honestly, getting your squash halved is the hardest part! Using a sharp knife, slice lengthwise.  Scoop out seeds and place on a baking sheet.  Drizzle cut sides with EVOO and sprinkle with Himalayan pink salt and a couple of good cranks of freshly ground black pepper. Now, if you want *REAL* magic, peel 6-8 cloves of garlic and let them roast inside the squash.  Don’t worry that the garlic will be too strong!  Trust, people!  Roasting it makes the garlic mellow and creamy – you will thank yourself for not omitting this step!  Place into oven and bake at 375 degrees for 1 hour.  Remove and turn oven off.  Once the shell of your spaghetti squash has cooled enough to handle, use a fork to flesh out the strands. Try to smush (not a real word – but it works here) up the garlic cloves in this process.  Once the garlic is distributed around and the strands look “spaghetti-ish”, add in a couple of good pats of grass-fed butter, top with grated cheese and sliced brisket.  Slide the whole beautiful thing back into the oven and broil for just long enough to melt the butter and cheese and put a sizzle on the meat.  Then, drizzle on a little barbeque sauce and grab a fork.  It’s done.  Enjoy!

Here’s another use for the chili sauce (see previous post for Chili Sauce recipe) — basting your salmon filets!  Kinda Genius, I know, but we can’t let this great stuff go to waste!

So simple, this is all you need:

salmon filet

chili sauce

Coat the filet with chili sauce, good salt and freshly ground pepper.  Place into a pre-heated 350 degree oven and switch to broil.  Broil 5-7 minutes for until flesh flakes easily and cooked to your preference.

While preheating your oven, prepare the relish.

1 cup pineapple, diced

1 mango, diced

1/3 red onion, minced

1/3 red pepper

1 jalapeno pepper (for more heat) or 1/2 Poblano pepper (for less heat), diced

juice of lime

1 tsp. Himalayan salt

drizzle of olive oil

Combine all relish ingredients in a small bowl.  Stir gently to combine.

Serve with relish over salmon and give yourself a nice pat on the back!  See, this cooking thing isn’t so hard!

Can I just tell you how crazy good these are?  Good enough that when we have them, my husband says “why do we not eat this more often?”  So, so good!

Let’s start with the salsa so the flavors can come together while we do the rest.

Mango Salsa:

1 ripe mango, peeled, diced

1 ripe avocado, diced

1/2 cup minced red onion

1 jalapeno, minced (more or less according to your heat preference)

1/3 red pepper diced fine

1/2 cup fresh tomato, diced

juice of 1 lime (or 2 if they are stingy with the juice)

1 pinch of good salt (Himalayan pink salt or Celtic salt)

2 TBSP chopped cilantro (optional – you know if you like cilantro or not!!)

Place all salsa ingredients into a bowl, stir gently to combine.  Taste for seasonings.  STOP!  I know how good it is!  Save it for the meal, snitchers!  😉

Now, for the chili sauce.  Don’t leave this out.  It brings this meal up several notches and you can use the chili sauce in a great number of other dishes for great umami.  (Umami is the 5th flavor center.  If you hit all the flavor notes of:  sweet, salty, bitter, sour and umami, you tend to be MORE satisfied with LESS!)

You will need a bag of dried Poblano peppers, called chile ancho.  They look like this:

Place a large non-stick skillet on low-medium heat.  Place as many as you can easily fit onto a single layer on the pan’s surface.  You are only wanting them to soften slightly so they are workable.  (They are pretty stiff and unyielding right out of the bag!)  Let the peppers heat until you begin to smell the oils releasing their flavor.  Some slight blistering may occur.  Flip the peppers to get both sides.  When they are pliable, remove from the pan using tongs.  Allow to cool just enough to hold (or use a kitchen towel to hold) while you remove the stems.  They will just pull right out.  Now, place the de-stemmed peppers into a blender or food processor.  Add 1/2 cup of freshly-squeezed orange or mandarin juice to the blender.  Drizzle in 2-3 TBSPs of olive oil, 2-3 cloves of garlic and 1 tsp. of good salt.  You want to turn this into a paste so you will need more liquid.  I add hot water, 1/2 cup at a time, until it turns into a soft paste.  Now, pour and scoop the entire contents of the blender back into the skillet.  Cook over low-medium heat to dry and concentrate the flavors.  It won’t need long, maybe 5-7 minutes.  Remove from heat and store in a glass jar.  Excess will store in refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.  And a side note here, if you put this on a chip to try – it will be bitter.  It’s really not delicious by itself.  It’s ah-mazing in conjunction with a little sweetness or with a protein (like an omelet with chili sauce and cheddar cheese!)