Hobby Whores: Fermentation with Lady Vyra
'Hobby Whores' is a new series for sex workers to share their special interests and pastimes. We don't just work, after all! Sex workers are a talented and multi-faceted bunch, and we have a broad range of fascinating hobbies. Today Lady Vyra takes us on a journey through fermentation.
One of my favorite pastimes is fermentation. I see it as a kind of ersatz garden. I have never done well with plants, but ferments thrive in my kitchen, which has a touch of a laboratory to it, given the several jars of bubbling sauerkraut and various vegetable pickles I have lining the shelves. I often refer to myself as a “fermentista”, because I see my fermentation habits as something more than just a hobby or a diet; it is also kind of a lifestyle.
My journey with fermentation began about two decades ago, with a humble batch of water kefir gifted to me by a friend. I fell in love with the sour, slightly funky taste of water kefir and enjoyed tending to it. For a few years, that was my only ferment. My next experiment was with yogurt, which a friend showed me how to make. The difference in flavor between my own homemade yogurt compared to the store-bought variety was significant, so that too, became a part of my fermentation repertoire.
I see my fermentation habits as something more than just a hobby or a diet; it is also kind of a lifestyle.
I started sprouting not long after that, beginning with mung beans and alfalfa. Then I tried quinoa rejuvelac at a raw vegan restaurant. The flavor was amazing and I experimented with using rejuvelac to make vegan nut cheeses. Reading Sandor Ellix Katz’s book “The Art of Fermentation”, a combination of recipe book and manifesto, led me to explore new horizons in fermentation: beet kvass, tepache, sweet potato fly, ginger bug, and sprouted lentil dosas. But Katz's ethos of experimentation, empowerment through DIY and underscoring the interconnectedness of all life was what really resonated with me. Katz does not claim that a jar of sauerkraut will change the world, but it might change you and the small sphere around you.
The word SCOBY is an acronym for a “symbiotic community of bacteria and yeast”. Over my years of fermenting water kefir and kombucha, I often gave away bubbling jars of tibicos or gelatinous SCOBYs to friends, acquaintances, and people who responded to an ad I posted whenever I had extra to give away. Some became fellow “fermentistas", and returned for a new batch after their tibicos had gone off, or I contacted them when my batch had gone bad. The idea of a symbiotic community extends to my own experience in the way of exchanging fermentation starters with others and swapping tips and techniques. This practice not only fosters a sense of community but also promotes sustainability and sharing knowledge.
The idea of a symbiotic community extends to my own experience in the way of exchanging fermentation starters with others and swapping tips and techniques.
One thing I almost always have around is kimchi, taught to me by a Korean friend who shared their family recipe. I loved watching how the recipe was saved in memory of their body. They did not have to use measuring cups, but rather measured the ingredients with the hand and the eye. This highlights one of the things I love most about fermentation – sure, one can follow exact amounts, but there is a more intuitive element of following and trusting the wisdom in the body. Testing something to see if it tastes right – that highlights a kind of embodied knowledge that comes through lived experience. The Korean word 손맛 (son-mat) – literally, "hand taste" – refers to the unique taste food has from an individual's touch, care, and experience, and the way food tastes differently when made by different people. So, that hand taste was imparted to me by my friend and underscores how fermentation practices can honor cultural traditions and wisdom passed down through generations. What a lovely gift to receive from someone!
Equally significant is cultivating the relationship I have with my food. There is something empowering about producing my own food. Aside from fermentation, I grind my own flour and do a lot of sprouting– fermentation was the seed that grew into that interest. I appreciate the gentle rhythms of sprouting and fermentation, where I tend to them a bit every day. My work and input are often minimal – I submerge the vegetables in a salty brine, and then the bacteria take over. I check the jars each day and sneak little bites of what’s inside to see how the taste is developing. Hissing jars and little foam bubbles that collect on the top of the ferments, as the microbes turn simple sugars into complex flavors and the pressure of released CO2 builds up inside of the jar, are signs of life that remind me that my ferments are living organisms.
I appreciate the gentle rhythms of sprouting and fermentation, where I tend to them a bit every day.
Maybe what is so powerful about fermentation is contemplating the transformative power hidden within the humblest of ingredients and realizing all that activity happens in an unseen realm. Fermentation makes these invisible processes visible, inviting us to contemplate these hidden layers and to appreciate the beauty of simplicity.
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