On to the hamburger:

Five Leaves Burger

The beef is grass-fed, which calmed my own stomach considering my very recent screening of Food, Inc., in which an industrial cow researcher sticks his hand elbow-deep through a port drilled into the side of a fully-conscious cow, giving him access to the contents of one of its stomachs, where he mashes around and shows off the rotting corn (i.e. not grass) inside.

But for full disclosure, I am working on the assumption that, as I believe is necessary for gastronomical honesty and integrity, judgment lies mostly in the hamburger, not in the contents of the cow’s stomach (which is nowhere to be found at Five Leaves) at the moment of its murder.  And in this department, the Five Leaves Burger is a great mashup, regardless of whether the long dead, extruded and now medium-rare cooked cow of questionable upbringing had arugula or rubber tire as its last supper.

The bun at Five Leaves was very well educated, and had a crispiness to the outermost layer of refined white flour that did not seem to be the result of any significant toasting.  The innards of the top bun were doused in mayo mixed with red pepper powder.  Then came the perfectly cooked sunny-side up egg with no evidence of any frying visible on either top or bottom.  Beneath the egg was a solitary slice of beet, lying astride the meat patty itself.

The first bite released the unfertilized juices pregnant within the egg, which flowed through the home-made prophylactic of mixed salad I surreptitiously inserted directly beneath, and were eventually lapped up greedily by the soft absorptive inner lining nascent in the bottom bun, spilling out the overflow mixture of blood and amniotic fluid onto the fresh green side of salad.  The meat patty was crispily overcooked on a few rough outer edges, but soft and tender medium rare on the inside, exactly as requested.

Conclusion:  delicious burger, but the meat was oversalted such that I would be remiss in not mentioning it in this otherwise perfectly good review.

Bitter melon is indeed very bitter and swims in a sort of egg-drop soup goo – will take some more acclimatization.  The “ruffle fat” pig skin was a bit cardboard in texture, slightly bitter, and not as tasty as memories of my momma’s fried chicken skin – I think they need to be eaten straight out of the frier in order to truly appreciate their natural texture.  String beans are always delicious, and the Adobong Sitaw were a fine variety in a pleasant sauce.  The pig heart and intestines were very good, almost a staple, and I found myself returning to them between other dishes.  But it was the the Dinuguan, stewed pork in a pork blood gravy, that made the night.  This was nothing like Chinese pork blood jello, which I’m not crazy about, although it did share that metallic iron flavor which is inevitable when manging healthy animal blood.  In this case the sauce was thick and viscous, but perfectly complemented the tenderness of the cubes of pork.  The two whole suckling pig lechóns were impressive in presentation, and perfectly crispy skinned, buttery meated, and tasty, yet somehow unspectacular.   Engeline’s chefs have managed to cook them in an oven mimicking the result of an open fire spit, but the unevenness of a fire-roasted animal was missing.

A true spit-fired suckling pig at a Marlyand wedding

It was a little disappointing not to have a chance to retry balut, which was the first thing I ate with the Gastronauts group upon joining at Krystal’s Cafe on 2nd Ave.  At that time, years ago now, I had shown my mettle to the small group by being the first to crack open the egg and drink its amniotic fluid before crunching the bones of the innocent fetus inside with relish, picking soft feathers from between my teeth.  Courtney, one of the co-founders, ran out of the restaurant and threw up on the sidewalk.  Then we sang karaoke in Tagalog.

Gastronauts has changed a bit.

Shake Shack is a half block from my current workplace, but the lines are far too intimidating for me to ever venture near in temperate climes.  Given my inexplicable love of cold weather and far more easily understandable Christmastime goy aversion, today, the freezing day before the day before the two thousand and tenth year anniversary of the birth of our savior (when will he finish battling the aliens and come back?), seemed like the perfect opportunity to skip the fuss and buy a slab of ground meat.  Even my office, teeming as it is with dollar bill-eyed Jews from New Jersey, was relatively empty.  And so, there was no line at Shake Shack.

Shake Shack in Madison Square Park

A brief survey of the menu made my order clear: one Shackburger, and a Shackmeister Ale.  In exchange for $10, I received a vibrator and a receipt.

Unsanitized Shake Shack Vibrator

I gripped the vibrator tightly, and waited.  About five minutes later, I felt a single prolonged buzz, then nothing.  My food was ready.

Shackburger and Shackmeister Ale

Quite the presentation.  The bun was extremely soft and pliant, so much so that the bread was depressed and obliging before I had even had a chance to put it in my hot and steamy mouth, anticipating, as it was, its own unavoidable absorption into my greedy Semitic stomach.

First impression: the taste of American cheese.  Second bite: lots of mayonnaise….  and so it went.  The meat replicated perfectly the texture and flavor of the textureless and flavorless bun.  A swig of beer:  market research indicates that Generation X likes hops.  No discernible flavor, good or bad, beyond the uber-infused hop essence.  Further reflection on hamburger: lettuce was latticed on top of the burger in clear full-leaf form, and a real slice of a real tomato was purposefully placed between.  The meat looked very fatty and pale, well done.

The aesthetic and genius of Shake Shack couldn’t be clearer.  Shackburger is a McDonalds burger made with upscale ingredients.  That is its ironic design, get it?  Shackmeister Ale is Budweiser pumped full of hops, i.e. microbrew.  Compared to the eating habits of the typical office worker, this is gourmet food at its finest.

Within minutes, I had retreated back to the comfort of the office.  I emailed the client and my entire team a new user flow diagram with the image of a cute girl representing their company’s typical “content editor”.  This based on a conversation I had had before lunch with the client’s chief technologist about the flow, not about the girl.

User Flow

The client immediately sent a response, insisting that their content editors were not nearly as happy nor as enthusiastic as this girl, and demanded that this fact be properly accounted for in future revisions.  I quipped in response that this was because they had yet to use the system I was designing, and asked him to be patient.

At Benny’s troubled request, I removed the inappropriate girl from the next revision.

Neuter Actor

Then Benny invited me to join him and Brian, the front-end developer who loved Avatar, in a three-way of Super Mario Brothers on the Wii by the jelly bean machines.

At 6, I left, encountering our Director of Emerging Technology twiddling his phone by the elevator.  I asked him politely what his plans were for the holiday.  He’s clearly Jewish, but kept reticent about that fact.  We entered the elevator with a black man and two goyim.  I explained my own modest plans: “I’m heading up to Westchester, where it’s safe for Jews on Christmas”.

No response.  The doors opened.  I wished him well, and exited.

Solid foods notwithstanding, the recipes are highly manageable by unskilled labor.  Mead, beer, kvass, and herbal teas are standard fare. But fermented tree saps covered in sprouted oats, poppy milk, hemp seed milk, beet pudding, acorn coffee, and carrot coffee deserve further investigation.  Baltic soups, including sauerkraut soup, sorrel soup, pickled beet soup, blood soup, and the rest represent all that is good in life.

Birch sap kefir

I have been fermenting birch sap using milk kefir grains the past few days, and it is very delicious – the most palatable non-dairy fermented drink so far.  The grains transitioned relatively smoothly to a non-dairy environment.  Will have to try a tree sap yeast fermentation with sprouted oats as soon as I come across a food grade plastic container in which to do it.

Shortly before Olives, the most amazing Russian supermarket ever to glimpse the balmy shores of Brooklyn, went out of business, I had purchased a compote that I believe contained peaches among other fruits.  It turned out to be mildly fermented, probably due having sat neglected on Olives’ overstocked shelves for too long (supermarkets and Russians mix as well as oil and water without an emulsifier).  It was the most delicious drink I’ve ever had.  More experiments in that direction to come.

Homemade pie fillings at Olives

Thoroughly mediocre Setagaya Ramen from a week before

Fortunately, Setagaya Ramen was packed, and I do not like to wait on line.  I noticed a partially obscured narrow doorway in the back of the restaurant with a paper printout on the wall saying Bibimbop Tapas Bar.  I curiously stuck my head in.  It was a lovely totally empty Korean restaurant.

I asked the waitress – the only person there – what kind of food they had.  She said, “Korean food”.  I’m not ignorant, but given the billing as a tapas bar, I was worried they wouldn’t have untapas food.  The menu came, it said Bibim Bar at the top, and I ordered the hot bowl of bibimbop.  She stuck her head through a window in the wall to the Setagaya Ramen kitchen and muttered some unintelligible Japo-Korean syllables.  Soon the raw egg came in a bowl.  Then the kimchi.  Minutes later, a hot bowl of cooked rice arrived with a few greens on top.  I poured in the egg and stirred.  It was good.

Back in class, I continued the discussion of Javascript until 6pm, at which time I had 2.5 hours to kill until Curtiss’s birthday party in Williamsburg.   I picked up a bottle of Slivovitz for Curtiss, a bottle of wine for the party, and hungry again, went in search of food.  Determined not to go back to Bibim Bar, Plump Dumpling, Menkui-Tei, Little Poland, or the Ukrainian East Village Restaurant  (and God forbid Vesulka), I found myself treading concrete towards Rai Rai Ken – the not good ramen.

Rai Rai Ken was packed with a mix of Asians, Americans, and Asian-Americans.  It’s a cozy place and inviting.  I found a seat near the door next to three pan-Asian men speaking English and ordered the Takuwan radish pickles and Curry Ramen.  I agree with Handy that the ramen experience depends significantly upon the right order, and I wanted to order correctly in order to be able to agree with Big Dan about Rai Rai Ken so as to reduce tension in the defense on the soccer field.  If we all like the same ramen, perhaps we will play better as a team.

Mediocre Rai Rai Ken Curry Ramen with Slivovitz wating behind

The pickles were a bit chewy, but very nice.  The Curry Ramen was good.  I enjoyed it.  Far better than the Shio Ramen I had sampled in a previous excursion.  The curry broth had a nice flavor and was not overdone with salt.  It seems that the meat is the weak point for Rai Rai Ken.  It’s overcooked and doesn’t ingratiate itself well with the pork broths.  More of an afterthought than an integral part of the dish.

Rai Rai Ken is mediocre ramen, but a nice enough place if ordering is done correctly.

B&H is closed, not only because it’s 2am, but because it’s also Sukkot until Monday.  But that’s far away.  A Mexican sorts vegetables behind the Big Banana’s “Closed until 7am” sign.  My Korean laundryman is no doubt sleeping soundly.  King’s Bagels is open, not because it’s not Jewish, but because it values most highly the harvest yet to be cullled.  This is known, which is why I am here.

One short backpacked guy is doing some kind of dance for the behatted white guy behind the counter.  Another young guy in light white tee shirt and parachute pants has probably never seen Greese as he parades up and down the glass refrigerated display, searching for the night’s treat.  “You want me to buy a fridge for $150?,” he asks his almost invisible friend in a thick Brooklyn accent.  I can’t hear the response from his Semitic young male companion.  “Should I return this tee shirt to Target,” he pleads, oblivous to his surroundings. “The tags are still on it.”

“Aren’t you cold” asks the burly hispanic man behind the counter. “Yes, I am” he responds.  “What’s this, is it chocolate?,” he asks.  “Yes, it’s truly excellent,” responds the older guy behind the counter.  Night shift workers are not paid on commission, so he must be serious.

The boy orders the chocolate pudding.  I slowly canvas the glass case hoping to sneak a peak of the truly excellent offerings I am missing in the otherwise desperate environs.  No chocolate pudding to be seen.  In fact, there’s nothing remotely chocolate at all, just some miserable precontained strawberry yogurt and vanilla ice cream.  Has this all been a farce?

My turn comes.  I order a toasted poppy bagel with scallion cream cheese.  Dinner.

Lunch was a small lamb kebab at Kings Highway Grill.  The Turkik guy behind the counter initial addressed me as “Sir”.  He gestured for me to take a seat.  I watched an exaggeratedly outraged Fox News correspondent lambast the liberal takeover of American political life on the flat screen t.v. for the ten minutes it took my lamb to baste.  Then the Turkik called for me.

“What would you like with it?”

“What can I have?”

“Whatever you like”

“Kasha and Shepherd’s salad”

“I have a boxer”

“Angry dogs…”

“No, he’s very sweet.”

“You know Portuguese Water Dogs?”

“You mean the one Obamas have?”

“Yeah, that one.  They have webbed feet…  swim fast.”

“Obama should have big pit bull with studded collar.  We need a president like this,” he gestures, miming obesity, thick lips, and sunglasses.

“A big black guy!”  I’m excited to be playing Charades.

“Yes.  Have you ever seen black guy like Obama?  He’s not even black!”

“He’s a nerd”

“Nobody take him seriously.  We need a big black guy with pit bull.”

Back to Kings Bagels at 2:15am, John Travolta and his friend exit, and the backpacked boy somehow has found a connection with the servers.  I hear “Rob Zombie“, “System of a Down” proposed by the white man behind the counter.  To which the the boy responds with “Devil’s Reject.”  The age difference between the two must be close to 20 years, but it seems not to matter.

The boy leaves, and I hear the two servers discuss.  “He’s mellow”, says the one.  “Pretty cool,” says the other.  Somehow they move on with the conversation, and I can’t keep track.   “It’s exactly what I’m talking about,” the one says, imitating someone.  “I ain’t goin to lie to you.  I tell it like it is,” says the other.  “He’s not at home with it.”  “She’s cute, right?”

I lose track.  My bagel is ready.  I buy a coffee too, anticipating the time spent on the blog post to come.  As I fill it at the self-serve station, the one says, “It’s cold out isn’t it?”  In a place and a time like this, I feel like he actually isn’t sure, and is not simply trying to make conversation.  “It’s getting there,” I say.  “The weather’s changing,” he says.  “It’s about time,” I say.  “Summer is nasty.”

“I’m just the opposite,” he says.  “I like the warmth and sun,” he says.

“You’d better move somewhere else,” I say.

Returning home from Ossining late last night, Nina came over to pick up her dues, payable in home-brewed kefir (which I had left in the fridge for a slow growth).  And we sampled the kombucha 3 days into its ferment – a bit early, but late enough to give us an idea of its progression.  Nina has clear ideas on how a kombucha should taste, and is very adamant about a certain sweetness and the strength of the tea.  The colony had sunk to the bottom of the jar upon initial insert into the black lychee tea, but was now floating near the top.  The taste was great, not too acidic yet tart, semi-sweet with a hint of carbonation, and a strong but not overbearing smooth tea flavor.  It will presumably be even more delicious in a few days.

We also sampled the kefir, which has already proven itself to be a high-quality culture sustained through the years by Joseph of Bedfordshire, UK.  It produces a smooth-textured, mild-flavored product that thickens quickly, acidifies slowly, and has the one flaw that that it ends up a bit gooey.  One day’s ferment will leave it mild and yogurty.  Two days will give you a strong tang and slight separation of whey and curd, although still smooth.  Unfortunately, I have forgotten one of my two kefir grains up in Westchester, where I traveled with it in tow, and where hopefully its new caretakers will take care.

After Nina left, I popped open a birch juice container and downed a few gulps.  Delicious.  Very subtle.  So subtle that the first time I encountered birch juice sitting on a store shelf, I didn’t understand why anyone would spend money on it.  Crazy Russians with their sweet toothes.  It tasted like dilute sugar water.  But by persevering through the entire bottle, I came to appreciate its very mild, slightly sour palate, and I have enjoyed it regularly ever since.

Judging by the bottled vinegar that passes for a popular kombucha in Whole Foods, the kefir that is actually sterile yogurt, and the birch juice that doesn’t even exist in this country despite the abundance of birch trees, it must be that Americans feel the need to punish and deny themselves such simple unrefined pleasures.

Kombucha in birch juice container

The changes that occur during fermentation are the result of the activity of enzymes, which speed up chemical reactions.  There are 3 sources of enzymes in food:

• microorganisms involved in fermentation (bacteria, yeasts, and molds)
• enzymes native to the food itself (e.g. enzymes responsible for curing tea leaves)
• microbial flora on the unfermented food (dependent on type of food, environment, and handling.  usually present in low numbers)

Good fermentation is usually produced by select microorganisms with possible involvement of native enzymes.

Most fermented foods rely on a few highly specialized species of microorganisms, usually lactic acid- and acetic acid-producing bacteria, alcohol-producing yeasts, and some molds.  The specialized microorganisms usually do not alter much of the nutritional or caloric value of the fermenting product besides breaking down its carbohydrates, hence their value in food preparation, preservation, and human nutrition.

Natural sequence of fermentation

Most fermentations are the product of several types of microorganism, acting in sequence, not just a single type.

Bacteria are the smallest of the microorganisms (less than 1 micrometer – µm) and so have the greatest surface area and absorb nutrients most quickly from the surroundings.  For this reason, they usually dominate the early stages of fermentation.  Small species, such as those in genera Streptococcus and Leuconostoc will grow and ferment more rapidly than larger species such as those of genus Lactobacillus.

Yeasts are larger than bacteria (4-7µm), and molds are are the largest of the fermenting microorganisms, and so they generally follow bacterial fermentation in sequence.

Bacteria

Bacteria perform many important functions in food fermentation, including the breaking down of sugars, most importantly into lactic acid and acetic acid, but also sometimes including ethanol, carbon dioxide, and mannitol.  Some bacteria produce primarily one product (homofermentative), while others produce several products (heterofermentative).

Important genera of bacteria used in food fermentation include:

• Acetobacter
  • aceti
  • pasteurianus
  • peroxydans
• Streptococcus
  • faecalis
  • lactis
  • cremoris
• Leuconostoc
  • mesenteroides
  • dextranicum
  • paramesenteroides
  • lactis
• Pediococcus
  • cerevisiae
  • acidilactici
  • pentosaceus
  • halophilus
  • urinae-equi
• Lactobacillus
  • delbrueckii
  • leichmannii
  • lactis
  • bulgaricus
  • helviticus
  • acidophilus
  • casei
  • plantarum
  • fermentum
  • brevis
  • buchneri
• Propionibacterium
  • freudenreichii
  • thoenii
  • acidi-proionici
  • jensenii

Lactic acid bacteria break down sugar into lactic acid, which inhibits the growth of many other undesirable microorganisms, hence their preservative effect.  They are microaerophilic, meaning they require oxygen for growth, but in lower levels than the quantity of oxygen present in the atmosphere.  Because they do not rely on oxygen, they are inefficient and do not get as much energy out of the food as aerobic organisms, thus they must consume a lot of sugar to get energy.  This inefficiency is beneficial to mankind, since it means the bacteria must be very active in order to survive, which leads to the production of lots of lactic acid, which preserves food.

Common types of lactic acid bacteria (by increasing amount of lactic acid produced):

• species of Streptococcus and Leuconostoc (least amount of lactic acid produced)
• heterofermentative species of Lactobacillus
• species of Pediococcus
• homofermentative species of Lactobacillus (greatest amount of lactic acid produced)

Acetic acid bacteria require oxygen in order to grow and produce acetic acid (i.e. vinegar) from ethyl alcohol.

Yeasts

Yeasts also break down sugars.  They require oxygen for optimal growth but not for fermentation.  In the presence of oxygen, they break down sugars into carbon dioxide and water.  In the absence of oxygen, they break down sugars into carbon dioxide and ethyl alcohol.

The alcohol and carbon dioxide produced by fermentative yeasts suppresses the growth of other detrimental bacterias and yeasts that may otherwise spoil the food, hence its use in preservation of food.  Yeasts are especially important in leavening of dough, production of alcoholic beverages, and well as the synthesis of vitamin B.

There are many type variations in yeasts that differ slightly in their metabolisms.  Some yeasts are entirely aerobic, while others are intermediate with varying respiratory and fermentative metabolisms.

Some yeasts commonly used in food production:

• Saccharomyces cerevisia (used by nearly all bakeries, wineries, and breweries)
• Saccharomyces carlsbergensis (lager beer yeast)
• Saccharmomyces cerevisiae var. ellipsoideus (used in wine fermentations)
• Candida utilis

Molds

Molds have the greatest array of enzymes, are aerobic (i.e. require oxygen), and will grow on most foods.  They are capable of rapidly decomposing woody plant materials, and are important in the production of many foods (Roquefort, Camembert, soy sauce, tempeh, etc).

Some molds important in food fermentation are:

• Aspergillus
• Penicillium

Pinomanuk's post on torontoadvisors.com's worldwide kefir list

Gramster, Unkie, and I pull into a nondescript row house in the rural town of Eaton Bray.  I decide to leave the bottle of wine in the trunk until I have sussed out the situation.  I ring the bell.  Gramster emerges herself from the back seat of the car.  Unkie, the chauffeur, has not yet acquiesced to opening the car door for her.  Several moments pass.  Joseph, a.k.a. “Pinomanuk“, an octogenarian in his own right, opens the front door of the house.

Joseph: You must be Ay-moss!
Amos: Hello Joseph, nice to meet you.

Joseph invites us into his home.  I introduce my entourage, hoping he will eventually marry my tyrannical 89 year-old grandmother.  He is friendly and enthusiastic, clearly cherishing the company.  After perfectly acceptable pleasantries, we enter the kitchen without much ado, and Joseph explains the mysteries of his hyperactive kefir culture.

Joseph: I actually divided it this morning into two, 'cause it's ... so quickly.  It seems suddenly to have gotten very very healthy. I don't know...
Amos: How long has it been since it... uh....
Joseph: Since it last divided?  Less than two weeks.  That's fast, isn't it?
Amos: Yeah, yeah, that's... uh...  very fast!
Unkie: Oh, I see.  They don't divide that frequently?
Amos: It usually takes a month... uh...

Joseph understands my desire to get down to business.  I am here to pick up kefir grains.  My uncle has been drinking kefir from a “starter mix”.  In other words, he is not yet in “the community”.  I am eager to introduce him.  One needs kefir grains to make kefir.  All kefir grains are direct descendants of a singular ancestor kefir grain that appeared mysteriously in the Caucuses centuries ago without explanation, never to be recreated.   Joseph has been harboring and culturing one such strain of pure-bred descendant grains for 30 years.

He removes a small jar containing a milky white liquid from the dark recesses of a kitchen closet holding plates and saucers.  I hold my breath.

Joseph: I've got four or five pieces in there...
Amos: That's amazing!
Joseph: ...or three or four...
Amos: Ah, perfect!
Joseph: ...shall I take one of those out?

I am allowing him to proceed at his own pace.  But he seems to be having second-thoughts.  Why would he already be removing one of the grains from the batch he has prepared for me?

Joseph: I'll tell you what.  I'll take out that one piece I put in there this morning... just in case anything goes wrong.

This deal could go very wrong.  I must tread carefully.  Joseph opens the lid of the jar and scoops out an over-sized grain with a metal teaspoon.

Joseph: That's actually already too big isn't it?

Is he trying to discredit his own kefir as an excuse to not give me any?  A bloated milky white grain glistens in the dimness of this Bedfordshire household.  I clench my teeth.  This is certainly a healthily fed grain.  I secretly marvel at the clarity of the liquid surrounding it.

In order to seal the deal, I tell a sad story of kefir grain wantonness… of an industrious American with only store-bought kefir to satiate his fermenting appetites.  Joseph’s knees weaken, and he begins to show some signs of sympathy.

Joseph (referring to store-bought kefir): It's not the same, is it?  You're paying a lot of money, and it's not the same thing!
Amos: No, it's not the same thing!

Still, he is determined.  He is quite sharp and clearly not of the elderly sort who are so easily distracted.  He subtracts a kefir grain from my batch.

Joseph (removing one kefir grain from the batch):  I'll take that.  One goes out after all... and put it in there. 
Amos (giving positive reinforcement in order to throw the adversary off the trail): Great!
Joseph: I'll keep it for myself just in case.

Who cares.  I’ve still got at least three or four grains to go on… or so I think.  But rather than give me the container with the remaining grains, Joseph places the single extracted kefir grain into its own spice jar with a bit of milk, and hands it to me.  I am the holder of a single precious delicate pure-bred kefir grain that will probably not survive the abusive car ride home with Unkie and Gramster.  This sly old fox is no doubt betting on my killing the grain.

I put on my poker face and ask what he has been using to feed his grains so successfully.

Joseph:  I'm using semi-skim. 
Unkie and Amos (in unison):  Ah... semi-skim.
Joseph: Half-fat.
Unkie: Half-fat, okay.

The deal is done.  I ask him, quizzically, whether anyone else has ever contacting him about his kefir grains before.

Joseph: Somebody contacted me... about ten years ago. A man from Canada.

A Canadian had written to Joseph, asking him whether he would ship all of his grains to Canada so the Canadian could start a kefir business. Joseph had spent 15 pounds delivering the goods overseas, only to have the Canadian spurn him and never repay or even acknowledge his efforts.  Joseph was left feeling used and abused, angry at the world…. for the last 10 years.

He talks openly and sensitively about the anger:

Joseph: Fortunately, I've gotten over my anger... which is why I didn't...
Amos: Really!
Joseph:  ...sort of... start yelling at you.

I feign empathy.  He doesn’t seem to notice.

Joseph: ...even if he hadn't sent me the money, if he'd just acknowledged it.  I mean, I'd gone through all that trouble...

Apparently, I’m not as bad as the “man from Canada”. 

He seems to have come around. After all, we’re compañeros facing a common enemy.

Joseph: ...and normally, in "the community", I think we're all pretty friendly.

I’m in!  Unkie, forever in need of authoritative guidance, asks about fermentation times.

Joseph:  Twenty-four hours is a minimum normally...
Unkie: Oh, right. Okay.
Joseph:  Fourty-eight hours is a maximum.
Unkie: Forty-eight...

I push the party towards the exit.  Hoping to escape with the grain while we still can.  Along the way, Joseph begins to tell us how he was introduced to kefir by a Korean sitting next to him on a flight from the far east thirty years ago.  From what I am able to infer, this Korean had given him a kefir grain on board the plane, which he has maintained ever since, along with a paper pamplet outlining the facts about kefir, which he began to show us.

Joseph (now holding a yellowing piece of paper): Believe it or not, that's the original one I was given thirty years ago.

He begins to read from the pamphlet given to him so long ago.

Joseph (mockingly): "The [...] Russian professor Nikimoto... Nikikowo devoted her entire life to exploring the secrets of the kefir fungus."   So... I thought, "that was a bit weird... a bit far out."  So I did it again.

Unkie can’t help himself. He inquires about cooking with kefir, a subject which Joseph is all too eager to discuss.

Joseph:  I do cook a lot of curries.  And I find it's wonderful for curries.  Instead of using water, I use kefir.
Unkie:  Oh, really!

Really.  As a way of concluding our rendezvous, I request an official photo of the kefir hand-off.  He seems as excited about this as I am.  In good humor now, Joseph jokes that we should say “Kefir” (you get it?  … instead of “Cheese”) as the photo is being taken by Unkie.

Joseph (gripping the kefir bottle tightly): Now say, "Kefir"!
Amos (pulling up on the kefir bottle): Kefir!
Unkie (fiddling with the iPhone camera): Well, I've gotta... I've gotta get a... I can't really get a...

Click!  Unkie accidentally takes a photo, which thought slightly blurry, clearly shows the kefir hand-off in all its drama and glory.

I run to the car, and retrieve a bottle of fine wine, which I present to Joseph in appreciation of his 30 year of effort maintaining the kefir grans to which I now lay a claim.

Joseph (graciously accepting the bottle of wine): I have to take it because I've been told I have to be gracious in accepting gifts.   I have great problem in accepting gifts!

But I have chosen well.  He has no problem in accepting this gift.

Before going, we are invited to sit down in the living room, an offer we can’t now refuse.  My grandmother, who has been uncharacteristically quiet up until now, let’s go what she has been thinking.

Gramster (admiring the modern sculptures and Asian furnishings situated in the living room): What is your background.  I mean, you are obviously an interesting personality.

He concurs, jokingly.

Joseph: I am!  I interest myself quite a lot!

Joseph tells us about his career in shipping marketing. A vocation which led him to live for five years in Hong Kong, and several years in Switzerland, followed by a few years spent enjoying the sour dough in San Francisco that Unkie holds so dear. 

Joseph:  I lived in Hong Kong... I was traveling all around the Far East. I lived in Hong Kong for five years.  I lived in Switzerland for several years.  And I lived in West Coast USA for a while...

A man of the world. Joseph is clearly a connoisseur of fine art, oriental furniture, and a man of refined tastes and eccentric habits.

Joseph: I've done so much in my life, and I've moved around so much that I've picked up things wherever I've been.

We leave Pinomanuk’s house thoroughly enchanted and, of course, in possession of the primordial grain in a bath of milk. Joseph is ecstatic about giving the gift of kefir to a total stranger.

Joseph: I feel I ought to be giving you a bottle of wine because I'm so delighted... I get so much pleasure from giving the kefir that I feel I'm not justified in receiving anything back!

He’s a charmer, all right.

Joseph: If anything goes wrong with it, there's plenty more.