Just when you think you’ve heard it all, the New York Times runs a story about a Park Slope resident who is growing yeast at home. How many people are interested in making homegrown yeast? I don’t know, but, hopefully, not too many because it would mean too many people have too much time on their hands.
The article compares yeast to pets and caring for yeast to caring for pets. It describes Gold Rushers sleeping with their yeast and keeping it warm under their clothes. “…most owners talk about their kombucha [form of yeast] like it’s a pet.” The article closes with, “It’s comforting to know that my wild yeast starter is a creation of different parts of the city that I can carry with me – even if I still remain a reluctant pet owner.”
I’ve never grown yeast, but I own a dog and a cat and I can, unequivocally, say that there is no comparison.
“It [the yeast] was delightfully yeasty-smelling – rather like beer crossed with clean, white paste.” My pets may get a little funky, but never….
“If yours [yeast] does not smell pleasantly, like beer or weak vinegar, toss it and start over again.” Luckily, we toss stinky pets in bathtubs, not in the trash.
The “pet” yeast is put in pizza dough, pancakes, bread. Four and twenty blackbirds get baked, but not pets.
Yeast won’t purr, greet you when you come home, play ball, or protect you. Granted you won’t have to pay a vet bill, but if you love your yeast, it won’t love you back.
Stick to the real thing, Park Slope. It’s never a good idea to get too attached to anything you plan to swallow.
Ava Chin, “Urban Forager | Free-Roaming Yeast, Brooklyn Bred,” The New York Times