Down in the back of the cold room we keep a crock of kefir grains, small pale things that look like cauliflower and behave like a tiny village. We call them the Culture Club. They eat the milk, and they sing a bubbling little song, and we pour off the tangy result into saucers.
Kefir is an old way of keeping milk, and cats who try it often go quiet and thoughtful, as though they have remembered something. It is gentle on the tummy, and slightly sour, like a very nice memory.
The grains were given to us by a neighbor named Mr. Pelham, who inherited them from his aunt. We feed them daily. We treat them as members of the family, because they are.
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