Imagine pulling this slightly squishy, inch-plus thick disc out of a glass jar on your counter.
I had ignored my white wine vinegar for a couple of months, but it was nonplussed by the neglect. It continued to churn out the material that lots of people call the mother (I view the mother as the whole culture of bacteria in the liquid, and the sheet as a byproduct of the process and an indicator of the culture's health.) By the time I looked at it, it had created this monster of a wheel. And the vinegar underneath smelled perfect: I bottled off a half-bottle of it and refilled it with more white wine.
