The first: good kumys is a word-of-mouth brand. People buy it from someone they know, from a roadside stand, from "those very people." It always carries a sense of mystery, as if it's passed along on a line of trust and recommendation. And almost every time someone drinks kumys, someone nearby says, "You haven't tried the real thing yet."
The second: to make the product legible, we built a metaphorical bridge. Kumys is like wine. Just as ancient, just as ritualistic. It's aerated (in Kazakh — sapyru), it matures, it has gradations, regional character, specific moments of consumption. The comparison to wine gave us solid ground to stand on. It let us talk about the product not as a relic of the past, but as a complex gastronomic culture.