Why I Started Fermenting (And What It Taught Me About Building EMTeas)

Ten days ago, I mixed salt, water, and vegetables in two half-gallon jars and put them on a shelf in my garage. I haven't touched them much since. Honestly, that's the best part.

I started fermenting because I'm tired of fighting my gut, but mostly because I needed something just for me. Between EMS shifts, stress, and eating on the run, my digestion is shot. I drink Soothing Sips after meals to calm things down, but that's comfort. What I really needed was a hobby that was mine alone. A way to slow down. Enter fermentation.

But here's the thing. Fermenting taught me something I didn't expect. It's not really about the food. It's about what the process teaches you.

The Setup

I'm doing two ferments right now: giardiniera and sauerkraut. Both are living in Ball jars with pickle pipe lids, sitting in my garage at a steady mid-60s temperature. The giardiniera is a 4.5% brine solution with cauliflower, jalapeño, garlic, carrots, radish, red onion, and bell pepper. The sauerkraut is a dry brine at 3%. No added water, just salt drawing the cabbage's own liquid out.

I use glass weights to keep everything submerged. No shortcuts. The vegetables either stay under the brine or they don't work.

By day three, both jars were already bubbling. I couldn't help myself. I had to scoop a little taste out of each one. The giardiniera's heat from the jalapeños came through immediately, the garlic was developing, and the brine was starting to turn pink from the red onion and radish. The sauerkraut was more subtle, but the fermentation was already happening. By day seven, the flavors in the giardiniera were melding in ways I couldn't have predicted. It's still a little salty. That should mellow over the next few weeks. It's working.

The sauerkraut is in for the long haul. Months, not weeks. I'm checking on it when I'm home, but here's what I love: when I'm on a three or four day shift, it just keeps going. No attention needed. The fermentation doesn't care that I'm gone. It's patient in a way that nothing else in my life is.

The Ritual

Fermenting requires more patience than tea, but less work than you'd think. The upfront work is similar. Chopping, measuring, mixing. Then you stop. You wait. With tea, you blend and brew and drink the same day. With fermentation, you're committing to weeks or months of waiting. Tasting occasionally. Trusting that something invisible is happening.

There's wellness in waiting

I check on my ferments when I'm home and not working. Some days I open the jar and smell. Some days I taste a tiny piece. Mostly I just look at them sitting on the shelf and remind myself that good things take time. Consistency matters more than speed. You can't rush transformation.

It sounds like meditation, because it is.

What Fermentation and EMTeas Have in Common

When I built EMTeas, I learned something I'm reinforcing with fermentation. Real wellness doesn't happen in a day.

You can't take a blood pressure pill once a month and expect your blood pressure to change. You can't drink one cup of tea and expect your sleep to transform. You can't jar up vegetables and expect probiotics to appear overnight.

But if you show up consistently, if you make it a ritual, if you trust the process, if you're willing to wait, something shifts.

That's what fermenting is teaching me. Every time I walk past those jars, I'm reminded that I'm building something, not buying something. Patience is an active practice, not a passive wait. The best tools for wellness are the ones that teach you how to take care of yourself.

Soothing Sips settles my gut after a stressful meal. That's important. Fermented vegetables? They're building my gut health from the inside out. They're teaching me that wellness is a conversation between me and my body, happening over weeks and months, not minutes.

Why This Matters Now

I'm in a season of my life where I'm trying to slow down as a wellness practice. Not as punishment. Not as deprivation. As actual medicine.

Fermenting is that for me right now. It's meditation. It's a reminder that the best things, the real things, can't be rushed. It's proof that showing up matters more than being fast.

When I open those jars in a few weeks and taste what's been happening in the dark, I'll taste fermentation. I'll also taste what I've learned: healing takes time. Rituals work because we commit to them. The slowest path is sometimes the most direct.

Sip with purpose. Heal with nature. Sometimes, ferment with patience.

Join the Conversation

Have your own fermentation story?

Share it in the comments below. Or join the EMTeas community on Facebook to connect with other people building wellness rituals that actually work. Follow us on social media and use code Social10 for 10% off your next order.