Kombucha threatens to tear hipster scene at its skinny jeans

Marcel Scott, Opinion Editor

Before you read on, I must warn you. What you are about to read is terrible. You’ve been warned.

The contents of this article revolve around a drink so heavily contested, that it threatens to split the hipster community into two different tribes — possibly ruining centuries of progress towards penultimate douchedom. This drink is the first threat to the order of the hipster community.

Kombucha, or as many refer to the probiotic drink as buch (pronounced boo-ch), is a heavily debated drink which doesn’t get the respect that a fungal tea deserves.

According to Vice reporter Jules Suzdaltsev, the drink tastes somewhat like, “…Gatorade that’d been left uncapped in a shed, slowly collecting dust and insects (that someone had also dropped a urinal cake into for some reason).”

Suzdaltsev’s vivid description is a great advertisement for anyone who’s looking to try this extraordinary drink, because like Suzaltsev, most people detest the taste of kombucha.

Personally I love it, which, if the actual taste of Kombucha is one of Suzdaltsev’s description, then I’m also into drinks that taste like urinal cakes. And if that is the consensus, then I’m willing to concede. But I’m not willing to believe that this is true without presenting the bucha lover’s argument.

Kombucha is any black or green tea that has been fermented using yeast and other probiotics, which gives a slightly alcoholic tinge to the cesspool of life that brews for seven to thirty days. Once properly brewed, one can enjoy its contents.

I like to enjoy my kombucha while listening to my vinyl album collection, when I’m trimming my beard (which I’m considering growing out), and complaining how much the city costs.

Just kidding. I can’t grow a beard.

Now, on to my analysis of the complex eccentric taste of the Kombucha wave that hits your tastebuds like a chloroformy film that knocks you off your feet because it’s just so dank. Yes, I said chloroformy. Yes, that’s not a word. And yes, that doesn’t sound pleasant. But that’s what makes Kombucha so amazing. It’s a strange taste, but one that grows on you.

Sipping the beautifully pungent concoction is a burst of flowery flavors — some fruity hints throughout the slimy liquid hit your tongue randomly, which is then followed by an aftertaste of peer sprightly spring air as though your mouth has been reborn.

That’s at least what good kombucha tastes like, however, there’s a lot of bad bucha out there which tastes — well, as Suzdaltsev says — a bit like a urinal cake.

With this in mind, you’re going to drink a lot of bad bucha if you become a well versed kombucha expert. And that’s just something you’ll have to learn to accept.

When I pop a bottle of bucha, it’s like opening a bottle of nostalgia.

Seriously though, each time I’m just trying to remember what the last Kombucha I had tasted like. Once I finish, I ponder over what I just spent six dollars on. The process is addicting.

I’m going to get buch faced now, whether you like it or not.