Sleeping With SCOBY

SCOBY : Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria and Yeast. Also known as a gelatinous honey-coloured disc used to make the pro-biotic drink Kombucha.

While travelling with my family through the north of Italy over Christmas holidays, my aunt, a naturopath, potter and recent crochet-er, told me that she was missing her SCOBY. 

"What is that?" I asked.

"It's my bacterial friend that I use to make Kombucha with. Really, he's helped my hair so much."

"It's a HE?"

"Well, obviously."

Source: CulturedFoodLife.com

Now, my aunt has been known to entertain some far-reaching ideas in her lifetime. But when it comes to health, youth, and beauty, she's spot on. She's nearly 50 now and has the skin of a 20 year old. I've never seen a wrinkle on her face.

When she told me how much her kombucha concoctions have helped her health, I knew I wanted a SCOBY of my own. But the trick is, she told me, you have to LOVE it. I mean, dote on the SCOBY. Talk to it, give it a blanket, let it watch you bake a cake. Growing a SCOBY should be like giving birth, but without all the hormones and an entire person emerging from your groin.

Conceiving a SCOBY:

1/4 Cup Castor Sugar

1/4 Cup Apple Cider Vinegar

1 Quart/Litre Water

2 Tea Bags Black or Green

Make sweet tea.

Remove tea bags and pour sweet tea into a mason jar. Add apple cider vinegar.

Stir.

Place a breathable cloth on top of the "womb" and fasten with a rubber band. My SCOBY jar just happens to be a man who just travelled through the Middle East. Like Paul Coelho's Alchemist, I've name him Santiago.

Santiago sleeps by my bed. He LOVES being warm, which is why he has his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket. He also likes to watch birds. Sometimes we sit by the window together to see the seagulls flying around Dublin. He likes just a bit of light. He's sleepy most of the time. If there's sunlight, he likes to look at it, close his eyes, and have a nice dream. But in a dimly lit bedroom, by a warm fire, or with blanket are some of his favourite places to fall asleep.

Most of all, he LOVES bedtime stories. Because he sleeps so much, about 5 "bedtime" stories a day is the norm. Stories are a big part of his life and he considers dreams to be on par with good books.

It will take about a month for Santiago to become a real SCOBY. Stay tuned for more updates. Pictures of the birth are soon to come!

Gate 37: Como La Flor

This is a story that I published through Gate 37, a new online journal publishing writers who have a hard time answering the question, "Where do you come from?"

Como La Flor

http://gate-37.com/2014/11/10/como-la-flor/

Abruzzo, Mi Amore

Source: MyBellaVita.com

I am in love with Abruzzo. I've seen many places in the world, but only now can I say that I'm in love.

I was staying with friends in a small sea-side town called Cologna Spiaggia. Their economy is run by tourists, but there are few to be found. The bathers on the beach are nothing but locals who walk or cycle two minutes from their homes to greet the sea. I sat on the back of a rusted bike while my friend pedalled and waved at everyone we passed by. There are many words that could describe this gem of a place, but what sums it up is: family.

August 15 is Farragosto in Italy. It was introduced by emperor Augustus just a few years ago... in 18 BC. But it's still celebrated in Italy today because, well, why not? Accompanied by 40 of our closest friends from Cologna Spiaggia (about a quarter of the population), we boarded a bus to a nearby town that was hosting a festival, passed around bottles of Campari, and started belting classic songs of Abruzzo. 

When you drink Campari, apparently this is the kind of night you can look forward to:

Source: www.ScenicReflections.com

But I was with a bunch of sincerely wonderful lunatics and it was a bit more like this:

The night turned into a blur with many bottles of wine, dancing, singing, and finally ending up on the beach of Cologna at a Jurassic Park themed party at sunrise.

It was magical.

The next afternoon, we ventured to the beach with heavy heads and sore throats. But, it was necessary to be at the beach for the annual and cruel tradition of being in a delicate state, sunglasses on, possibly falling asleep to dreams of red Campari bottles clanking their glass necks on your skull, and a friend pouring a big bucket of cold water all over you.

This madness ensued for the day until my friend, Alberto, and I drove to his grandmother's house for a meal of spaghetti, lasagne, and meatballs, followed by shots of flourescent-coloured Limoncello and espresso.

The day was nearly done and nearly anything was making me laugh. Alberto's parents were trying to practice their English, and his father had found a new favourite word. Olive. And he'd say it randomly, with emphasis on the "O" like it was a big piece of cake going into his mouth, and breath the "live", finishing with a chuckle of pure satisfaction. And I could relate. Because it was was indeed a time of complete satisfaction, contentment, and experiencing a group of people who I now consider a second family.

Dreams of Salt and Sandy, Sandy Earth

Source: MSNBCmedia.msn.com

I'm in Ireland. The month is May. And I've had so little sun that my skin actually aches from lack of vitamin D. I would eat sand right now just to have some semblance of parchment. 

My first solution to this problem was calling my friend Paul and getting him to repeat his story of when he and his friend, Roger, accompanied a Dutch man on a camping trip near Dubai. As you would do, they drank for the entire evening and fell asleep in the chilly desert night, only to wake up inside a tent nearly 45 degrees Celsius! But it wasn't the heat that woke them up. It was the sound of the hammered Dutch man "yipp-yipping" on the back of a wild camel he'd bare saddled. 

Source: DailyMail.co.uk

The Dutch man had lived in Dubai for 5 years at that point and was well equipped to handle the ensuing head pain mixed with the heat, while the two Irish lads, Paul and Roger, barely remembered their own names.

The story seemed to seemed to have a knock-on effect in aiding my lack of sun. But I needed more...

For anyone who hasn't seen this video, watch it now and also look up other car tricks that men do in Saudi Arabia. It's kind of the only fun there is to be had there.

I also mean "car tricks that men do". Women aren't allowed driving licenses in Saudi, and they'd be in big trouble if they got caught behind the wheel. Even if you Google "fun things to do in Saudi Arabia," the second item that will pop up is an article from Listverse.com, "Top Ten Everyday Things Banned In Saudi Arabia."

Unfortunately women will have to be like the Dutch man and stick to the camels, while avoiding happenstances like this:

Source: HuffingtonPost.com

Alas, I was able to calm my frustration with the Irish weather and come to terms with milk being my only vitamin D source. I should have taken heed, though, when Liam O'Flaherty said, "I was born on a storm-swept rock and hate the soft growth of sun-baked lands where there is no frost in men's bones."

Keripik Paru Ketchup Bath

www.MightySweet.com

They called it "crackers" when five grey and yellow-dusted medallions were placed on my plate, half-covered with abandoned rice kernels and a large dollop of ketchup. It was Keripik Paru, or fried cow lung. I specifically did not use the ketchup. No one else used the ketchup and I was the only non-Indonesian at the party.

I was invited to learn a dance from Betawi, or the original name of Jakarta, Indonesia, called Yapong.

The dance is performed to a traditional gamelan orchestra who chant Ya-Ya-Ya-Ya in celebration of Jakarta's birthday. The dance was originally performed in 1977 for Jakarta's 405th year.

I thought the party would be full of flitty wrist movements and delicious tea. I thought it would be something like this:

Source: FromBaliToBala.com

But it was something more like this:

There were kids running around, women dancing on tables in the middle of the afternoon, and a small dog humping anything he could get his underside onto. Nobody really gave a shit. I was having a great time... until they brought out the Keripik Paru. 

I'll preface by saying that I'm quite adventurous as eaters go. But when I tasted the fried cow lung, I felt like I had put an old piece of leather that had been soaking in snake blood for ten years in my mouth. I probably turned green in front of my host, which is something I'd never done.

The woman who invited me smiled as I swallowed and said, "It is good, yes? Go on, eat it all!"

As she turned away and began dancing with the ladies, I felt horribly ill. I began to wonder where the cow lung was on its journey down my esophagus, and how I could stop it. I came to terms with the fact that I couldn't prevent it from entering my digestive system, but I had the power to stop any more from making the invasion.

I took a seat in a corner and stared at my plate in horror. There was no place to go. Just four medallions of cow lung and a dollop of ketchup.

The ketchup. Yes. That was the answer. My escape. I slowly pushed the lung toward a red sanctuary. As it reached the edge, it seemed like it would make it through. The ketchup was able to cover nearly all the evidence! I had saved myself and my social reputation.

"Mommy says not to play with your food!" a child voice shouted at my side.

She was a small one, not older than three, and she had caught me in the act. As she stared at me with black, gaping eyes, I laughed and said, "Oh, you silly. I LOVE putting cow lung in ketchup!"

She continued to stare as I grabbed all four marinated pieces and placed them on my tongue. A huge grin came across her face and she kissed my cheek before running off like a wild-ling.

I had been caught by an innocent bystander and there was nothing I could do but swallow. And I did. In one, thick, ketchup-y, gulp. 

The rest of the afternoon became a hallucination. Maybe it was the cow lung or my loss of inhibition. But I believe the Harlem Shake did commence and we all performed our own dance for Jakarta.

(A recipe for the Indonesian cow lung crackers can be found here at IndonesiaEats.com.)

The Bacon Bikini Project

Here is a story I wrote which was recently published in a UK food journal, Fire & Knives:

It's called "The Bacon Bikini Project:"

The Human Skin Trade (Part 1)

Source: WunderKammer.com

"That's hardcore," says Ben White as he fawns over a photographed jar containing an embalmed 5 month old human fetus. He giddily studies the picture, examining the spaghetti looped umbilical cord like a boy leaning over a mud pile of worms. The fetus is illegal and its source is unknown. It does, however, exist somewhere in Australia where the laws of human tissue trade are highly regulated.

As the owner of WunderKammer, an occult shop in Melbourne specializing in miraculous treasures, White is very aware of the trade laws of deceased human remains. He lives for things like rare taxidermy, natural specimens, and antique scientific instruments. And like most products that are hard to come by, there’s a thriving black market just below the surface.

WunderKammer is just the first stop on our journey through the laws and illegal biddings of the skin trade market. Our next stops are The Evolution Store in NYC, an occultist shop with an abundance of human remains and skeletons, and Deyrolle in Paris, a 170-year old establishment known to be the oldest of its kind. 

The following interview details BenWhite of WunderKammer’s involvement with aberrant objects, how the laws of the human tissue trade in Australia affect his business, and a little about kangaroos.

 Illegal 5-month old fetus.

Source: Unknown

Ben: My name is Ben. I have a shop called WunderKammer, which is a scientific curiosity store where we do taxidermies as well. We have animal skeletons, and skulls, and fossils, and minerals, and all sorts of stuff.

RH: Would you tell me about doing taxidermy?

Ben: Well, we don’t do it ourselves. We frame a bit, so a bit of entomology and things like that. And the taxidermy that we get comes from local taxidermists.

RH: How did you get started doing this?

Ben: This was my dad’s shop originally. He bought the shop from another couple in 2006. He just recently decided to semi-retire, so I’ve taken over the store.

RH: What got you interested in a store like this?

Ben: Growing up around my dad, it was hard not to be. If you look around the store you can see a lot of him in it. It’s pretty weird and wonderful.

Javan toad skeleton.

RH: Was he the one who began collecting?

Ben: He bought the shop from a couple, so they sort of had the original idea, and my dad used to shop there. It was very small and boutique when they had it. He’s collected a lot, and really helped it grow and expand.

RH: How does he find items to collect?

Ben: That’s just sort of the case of going out and finding it. Adventuring. He’s in Paris at the moment, a lot of travel. We’re fairly well known now, so a lot of it can come to us through schools moving, throwing stuff away, old labs and things like that.

RH: Do you travel as well?

Ben: No, I wish. Maybe one day. My boy can take over, and it will continue on.

RH: You were saying that skin trading laws are different in Australia versus the United States.

Ben: What do you mean, “skin treating?”

RH: Skin trading.

Ben: Skin trading. Ah, yes. Yes. Your accent’s different. Yeah, well, there’s a Human Tissue Act in Australia.

RH: Is that what it’s called?

Ben: Yes, the Human Tissue Act. It prevents the buying and selling of anything that still has human tissue. So, skin, bones, any sort of organs or anything like that in ethanol or formaldehyde that’s been stored or pickled. It’s illegal to buy and trade stuff like that. So that law came in the late 1970s. Stuff that was done prior to that can still be done, so there’re a lot of old skeletons around that can still be traded.

RH: So deceased human parts after 1970 are totally off the market?

Ben: You can get licenses and laws that enable you to trade them. But I suppose they’re just trying to prevent it from getting out of hand. The thing is, all the skeletons used to come from India. It was big business in India. And people were starting to worry about how the skeletons were being obtained. That’s sort of how it got rolling. So, the ones that were done previously, people sort of understood where they were coming from and they were all done for medical situations, for doctors and med schools and things like that. 

They all had the skulls sawn open so you can look inside. When skeletons started to appear and the skulls weren’t sawn open, how they were procured and obtained started to become more of an issue. That’s when things started to change.

RH: Do you have any specific examples of this being a problem?

Ben: No, I don’t. I do have some customers who have come in and they buy a lot of skulls and things like that from overseas. They tell me it’s still very hit and miss as to whether you can get stuff or not, and whether it comes through customs or it doesn’t. It’s luck of the draw, really.

RH: Sounds like a bitch to deal with.

Ben: Yeah, well, it’s funny cause if it’s under 1000 bucks of value, sometimes they just waive it through.

RH: How do customs determine the value?

Ben: Well, it’s just whatever you paid for it. But, you could pay 1500 bucks, and the seller would usually write 900 on it for customs.

RH: What you sell, is it all pre-1970s?

Ben: We don’t have any human skeletons at the moment. My dad did have a couple of real ones. Really nice ones that he actually bought from the old WunderKammer. And they were old. The good thing about bones is they last forever. It doesn’t really matter when they were done if they’re kept in good condition. It doesn’t matter if they were done yesterday or a hundred years ago.

 Snake skeleton.

RH: Do the laws pertain to animals as well?

Ben: Well, they can. Being in Australia, you can’t sell koalas, platypus skulls, or things like that. Kangaroo is an interesting one, because they are a pest. There’re thousands of bloody kangaroos. They ruin crops.

RH: Like fruit flies?

Ben: Yeah, well they have culling season up in the north where the farmers are allowed to go out and legally kill as many as they possibly can. Just because there are so many kangaroos. But you can’t legally taxidermy one, even though they’re a pest, because they’re a native animal. You can get taxidermy licenses that enable you to buy and sell native Australian animals. My dad had one kangaroo in six years, so they’re not very common. But the laws go further again on things like koalas, platypus and things like that that are endangered or protected.

Kangaroos. They’re just a cute little fury animal, but they’re bloody annoying.

RH: I saw a kangaroo for my first time yesterday.

Ben: Did you pet it?

RH: Yeah, one was lying on the floor and I didn’t know if I should touch it, but I did. It was nice. It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.

Lady tools.

RH: So how are skin trading laws different in the States?

Ben: I do know that laws in America are a lot more lenient. There was a guy in here recently. He’s opening a similar store in San Francisco. He was telling me that taxidermy in America can be really easy for animals and humans that are already in North America. Shops like Evolution [in New York City] have a lot of skeletons and skulls and things like that.

But I don’t know how they obtained them. They’re not new, so I’m sure there are similar laws as to when they were made and things like that.

RH: Do you have a license to buy any sort of human tissue at all?

Ben: We have a second-hand dealer license, so we can buy from other dealers. But again, anything that involves human tissue is a sensitive area here. There’re old medical kits that hold half a human skeleton. So it’s the left side or the right side of the human skeleton which used to be for medical students. They come in this really generic box that has half a skeleton just sort of dumped in there. People buy and sell those all the time. You’re not supposed to, but med students sell them to other med students all the time.

RH: Sounds like trading text books.

Ben: Exactly. And they have like little drawings on the bone, all the vertebrae are numbered, things like that. It’s all just sort of a grey area.

 Siberian Wooly Mammoth Hair.

Ed’s Note: Due to Rogue Hustler’s involvement with articles, travel, and finding titillating topics for your weekly mental stimulation, interviews are not currently on a posting schedule. More are to be expected, but for now they are posted only when relevant and interesting.