If you’re new to sourdough baking, these beginner sourdough tips will help you navigate the wild world of wild yeast and avoid the common mistakes that can turn your first attempts into kitchen disasters. Let me tell you a story. Last week, I walked into my kitchen to find my sourdough starter had basically turned into a sourdough escape artist. It had bubbled up, overflowed its jar, and was now making a slow, sticky crawl toward freedom across my countertop.
My first thought? “Well, at least it’s alive.” My second thought? “I should have named it something more ominous, like ‘The Blob.'”
Welcome to the world of sourdough baking, where your new pet is a jar of fermented flour that demands more attention than a houseplant but somehow less than a cat. You’ve probably seen those Instagram-perfect loaves with the perfect crumb, the perfect ear, the perfect everything. What those photos don’t show you is the trail of flour that now lives permanently in your kitchen, the three failed loaves that came before the perfect one, or the existential crisis you’ll have when your starter decides to go on strike.
But here’s the thing: sourdough baking is equal parts science experiment, art project, and therapy session. It’s going to test your patience, make you question your life choices, and occasionally reward you with bread so good it makes you weep. And if you’re going to survive this journey with your sanity (mostly) intact, you’re going to need these ten beginner sourdough tips.
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1. Name Your Starter—Seriously, It’s Practically Family (And Sometimes More Reliable)
Let’s start with the most important relationship you’ll form in your sourdough journey: the one with your starter. This bubbling, living organism isn’t just flour and water—it’s a colony of wild yeast and bacteria that have decided to make your kitchen their home. And if you’re going to feed it more regularly than you remember to water your plants, you might as well give it a name.
Here’s where it gets interesting: there’s a sourdough starter out there that’s been alive since 1847. That’s right—Carl Griffith’s sourdough starter has survived the Oregon Trail, multiple wars, the Great Depression, and probably at least one kitchen renovation. It’s been passed down through generations, hitching rides in covered wagons and making the journey from one baker to another. Think about that for a second. Your starter could theoretically outlive you. It’s like having a pet that’s immortal, doesn’t need walks, and occasionally makes you bread.
I’ve seen starters named everything from “Doughy McDoughface” to “Yeastie Boys” to “The Mother Dough.” Some people name theirs after historical figures or favorite characters. My friend named hers “Betty White” because “it’s old, it’s reliable, and it’s got staying power.” I personally know a baker whose starter is named “Steve,” which is wonderfully unassuming for something that could potentially survive a nuclear apocalypse.
The psychology here is real. When you name something, you’re more likely to care for it. You’ll remember to feed it. You’ll check on it. You’ll talk to it (don’t worry, we all do it). You’ll develop a relationship with this jar of fermented flour that’s surprisingly meaningful. Plus, when your starter inevitably does something weird—like develop a layer of hooch on top or smell like gym socks—you can turn to your partner and say, “I think Steve needs a feeding,” and they’ll know exactly what you mean.
2. Your Starter Is a Gold Rush Miner, and You’re the Saloon
Here’s a fun fact that will make you feel like you’re part of history: sourdough baking has deep roots in the California Gold Rush. Those miners heading west? They carried their sourdough starters with them because commercial yeast didn’t exist yet. These starters were so valuable that miners would sleep with them in their bedrolls to keep them warm during cold nights. Yes, you read that correctly. Men were literally sleeping with jars of fermented flour to protect their precious bread-making cultures.
But here’s where it gets really interesting: San Francisco’s unique sourdough flavor comes from a specific bacteria that’s actually named after the city. Lactobacillus sanfranciscensis (now called Fructilactobacillus sanfranciscensis because science loves to make things complicated) is a bacteria that’s particularly well-suited to San Francisco’s climate. It’s what gives San Francisco sourdough its distinctive tang. You can learn more about the science behind sourdough fermentation from sourdough starter resources and baking science websites. And here’s the kicker: this bacteria is so adapted to that specific environment that even if you start a culture elsewhere and bring it to San Francisco, it will eventually be overtaken by the local bacteria. Your starter literally becomes a local.
This means your starter is a living record of where you are. The wild yeasts and bacteria in your starter are unique to your environment. The flour you use, the water in your area, the temperature of your kitchen, the microbes floating in your home—all of these contribute to your starter’s unique character. Your starter is like a fingerprint, but for your kitchen’s microbiome.
So when you’re nurturing your starter, you’re not just making bread—you’re cultivating a living culture that’s specific to your home. You’re creating something that literally couldn’t exist anywhere else. That’s pretty cool, right? And if you ever move, your starter will gradually adapt to its new environment. It’s like a microbial immigrant, slowly assimilating to its new home while maintaining some of its original character.
3. There’s an Actual Library for Sourdough Starters (Yes, Really)
If you thought naming your starter was taking things too far, wait until you hear about the Puratos Sourdough Library in Belgium. This is a real place. An actual library. But instead of books, it preserves sourdough starters from around the world. Think of it as the Library of Alexandria, but for fermented flour.
The library was founded to preserve the diversity of sourdough cultures worldwide. Each starter is kept alive, carefully maintained, and documented. They have starters from different countries, different regions, different time periods. Some of these starters are hundreds of years old. They’re preserving not just the cultures themselves, but the techniques, the histories, and the stories that come with them.
This matters because sourdough diversity is declining. As commercial yeast became more common, many traditional sourdough cultures were lost. The library is trying to preserve what’s left. It’s like a seed bank, but for bread. And it’s a reminder that your starter isn’t just a tool—it’s a piece of cultural heritage.
When you maintain your starter, you’re participating in a tradition that dates back thousands of years. You’re doing what humans have done for millennia: harnessing wild yeast and bacteria to transform flour and water into something nourishing. Your starter connects you to bakers across time and space. It’s a link to the past and a gift to the future.
So the next time you’re feeding your starter at 2 AM because you forgot to do it earlier (we’ve all been there), remember that you’re part of something bigger. You’re maintaining a living culture that could potentially be passed down for generations. You’re participating in a practice that predates modern convenience and connects us to our ancestors. That’s pretty profound for something that lives in a jar on your counter.
4. The “Float Test” Is Your Starter’s Swimming Lesson (And Your Sanity Check)
Let’s talk about one of the most satisfying moments in sourdough baking: the float test. This is when you drop a spoonful of your starter into a glass of water, and if it floats, you know it’s ready to use. It’s simple, it’s satisfying, and it’s one of those moments that makes you feel like you actually know what you’re doing.
Here’s the science behind it: when your starter is active and ready, it’s full of bubbles. Those bubbles are carbon dioxide, produced by the yeast as it feeds on the flour. The bubbles make the starter less dense than water, so it floats. If your starter sinks, it means it’s not active enough yet—the yeast hasn’t produced enough bubbles to make it buoyant.
But here’s the thing about the float test: it’s not foolproof. Sometimes a starter will float even when it’s not at peak activity. Sometimes it won’t float even when it’s perfectly active. Temperature, hydration level, and the specific characteristics of your starter can all affect the results. But it’s still a useful tool, especially for beginners who are learning to read their starter’s signals.
The float test is like your starter’s swimming lesson. You’re essentially asking it to demonstrate its readiness by showing off its bubbles. It’s a simple test that gives you immediate feedback. And there’s something deeply satisfying about watching that dollop of starter bob to the surface, knowing that all those tiny microorganisms are working together to create something magical.
I remember the first time my starter passed the float test. I’d been feeding it for two weeks, watching it bubble and grow, but never quite sure if it was ready. Then I dropped a spoonful into water, and it floated. I actually did a little victory dance in my kitchen. My partner thought I’d lost my mind. But in that moment, I felt like I’d accomplished something real. I’d created life in a jar, and it was ready to make bread.
5. Scoring Is the Bread’s Tattoo (And You’re the Artist)
Before you bake your loaf, you need to score it. This is when you take a sharp blade (called a lame, pronounced “lahm,” because French) and slash the top of your dough. It’s not just decorative—though it can be incredibly beautiful. Scoring serves a crucial purpose: it controls how your bread expands in the oven.
Without scoring, your bread will still expand, but it will do so in unpredictable ways. The steam building up inside needs somewhere to escape, and if you don’t give it a controlled path, it will find its own way out. This can lead to random cracks, bulges, or even a loaf that looks like it’s trying to escape its own crust.
With proper scoring, you create a controlled expansion point. The bread will rise along those lines, creating what bakers call an “ear”—that beautiful, crispy ridge that forms along the score. It’s one of the most satisfying things in sourdough baking: that moment when you pull your loaf from the oven and see that perfect ear, that perfect rise, that perfect expansion.
But here’s where it gets fun: scoring is also an art form. You can create simple patterns, elaborate designs, or even words. Some bakers score intricate geometric patterns. Others create simple, elegant slashes. Some use scoring to create texture, depth, and visual interest. The pattern you choose becomes part of your bread’s identity.
I’ve seen loaves scored with everything from simple crosses to elaborate wheat stalks to abstract geometric patterns. I once saw a loaf scored with the word “BREAD” in elegant script. Another baker I know scores every loaf with a small star, as a signature. The scoring becomes part of your style, your brand, your artistic expression.
The key to good scoring is confidence. You need to make clean, decisive cuts. Hesitation leads to messy, uneven scores. It’s like drawing—you need to commit to the line. And like any art form, it takes practice. Your first attempts might look like abstract art (and not in a good way), but with time, you’ll develop your own style.
6. The Windowpane Test: When Your Dough Gets Transparent (Literally)
Here’s a test that will make you feel like a scientist: the windowpane test. This is when you take a small piece of your dough and stretch it between your fingers. If it stretches thin enough to see light through it without tearing, your gluten has developed properly. If it tears immediately, you need to keep working the dough.
The windowpane test is one of those moments that bridges the gap between science and intuition. You’re literally testing the gluten structure of your dough by seeing if it’s strong enough to become translucent. It’s a simple test, but it tells you so much about your dough’s development.
Gluten is what gives bread its structure. When you mix flour and water, the proteins in the flour form gluten strands. As you knead or fold the dough, those strands align and strengthen. The windowpane test tells you if that process has happened successfully.
Here’s what’s interesting: different flours have different gluten potential. Bread flour has more protein than all-purpose flour, so it can develop stronger gluten. Whole wheat flour has less gluten-forming potential, but it adds flavor and nutrition. Understanding your flour’s characteristics helps you understand what to expect from the windowpane test.
The windowpane test is also a lesson in patience. You might think your dough is ready after a few minutes of kneading, but the test will tell you the truth. Sometimes you need to keep working the dough longer than you think. Sometimes you need to let it rest and develop on its own. The test doesn’t lie.
I remember the first time I successfully achieved a windowpane. I’d been kneading my dough for what felt like forever, and I was getting frustrated. Then I tried the test, and the dough stretched into a beautiful, translucent sheet. I could see my fingers through it. It was like magic. That moment taught me that gluten development isn’t just about time—it’s about understanding your dough’s signals.
7. Temperature Is Everything (And Your Starter Is Fussier Than Goldilocks)
Your starter is like Goldilocks—it wants everything just right. Too cold, and the yeast goes to sleep. Too hot, and the yeast dies. Too warm, and the bacteria take over, making your starter overly sour. The temperature of your environment affects everything: how fast your starter rises, how active it is, how sour your bread tastes.
Here’s what’s happening: yeast and bacteria have different temperature preferences. Yeast likes it warm (around 75-80°F), while some bacteria prefer cooler temperatures. The balance between these organisms determines your starter’s character. Too warm, and you get more bacterial activity (more sour flavor). Too cool, and you get less activity overall (slower rise, less flavor development).
But here’s where it gets complicated: the temperature of your dough also affects fermentation. A warmer dough ferments faster. A cooler dough ferments slower. This means you can control your bread’s timeline by controlling temperature. Want bread in 4 hours? Use warmer water and keep it in a warm spot. Want to slow things down? Use cooler water and keep it in a cooler spot.
Many bakers use temperature to their advantage. They might do a warm bulk fermentation during the day, then a cold proof in the refrigerator overnight. This slows down the fermentation, allowing more flavor to develop. The cold also makes the dough easier to handle and score. It’s a technique that gives you more control and better results.
Your kitchen’s temperature also affects your starter. If your kitchen is consistently cold, your starter might be less active. If it’s consistently warm, it might be more active but also more sour. Understanding your environment helps you understand your starter’s behavior.
I’ve seen bakers create elaborate temperature control systems—proofing boxes with temperature controllers, warm spots near the oven, even using the oven light to create a warm environment. But you don’t need all that. A warm spot in your kitchen, or a cooler spot, can make a big difference. The key is consistency and understanding how your environment affects your baking.
8. The “Ear” Is Your Badge of Honor (And Your Bread’s Flex)
That beautiful ridge that forms along your score when your bread bakes? That’s called an “ear.” It’s one of the most satisfying things in sourdough baking. When you achieve a good ear, you know you’ve done everything right: proper fermentation, proper shaping, proper scoring, proper baking.
The ear forms when your bread expands dramatically in the oven—what bakers call “oven spring.” The steam inside the dough expands rapidly, and if you’ve scored properly and fermented correctly, the bread will rise along that score line, creating that crispy, elevated ridge.
Achieving a good ear is like getting a gold star in sourdough baking. It’s a sign that your technique is solid. It means your dough was properly fermented (not over-proofed), properly shaped (with good surface tension), properly scored (with a confident cut), and properly baked (with enough steam and the right temperature).
But here’s the thing: the ear isn’t everything. A loaf can taste amazing without a perfect ear. Some styles of bread don’t develop ears at all. The ear is more about aesthetics and technique than it is about flavor. But there’s something deeply satisfying about pulling a loaf from the oven and seeing that perfect ear, that perfect rise, that perfect expansion.
I remember the first time I achieved a good ear. I’d been baking for months, and my loaves were good, but they never had that dramatic rise, that perfect ear. Then one day, everything aligned: the fermentation was perfect, the shaping was tight, the scoring was confident, and the oven was hot. When I pulled that loaf from the oven, it had the most beautiful ear I’d ever seen. I actually took a photo and sent it to everyone I knew. It was ridiculous, but I was proud.
9. Crust Envy Is Real (And Steam Is Your Secret Weapon)
That perfect sourdough crust—crackly, golden, singing when you tap it—is one of the most satisfying things in bread baking. But achieving it requires understanding one thing: steam. Steam is what creates that beautiful crust. Without it, your bread will be pale and soft. With it, you get that crackly, golden exterior that makes sourdough so special.
Here’s what’s happening: during the first part of baking, steam keeps the surface of the bread moist. This allows the bread to expand fully before the crust sets. As the steam evaporates and the crust dries, it becomes hard and crispy. The contrast between the crispy exterior and the soft interior is what makes sourdough so satisfying.
Many bakers use a Dutch oven to trap steam. You preheat the Dutch oven, add your dough, cover it, and bake. The trapped steam creates the perfect environment for that crackly crust. But you don’t need a Dutch oven. You can achieve steam by placing a pan of water in the oven, misting the walls with water, or even throwing ice cubes into a hot pan.
The key is timing. You need steam during the first part of baking (usually the first 20-30 minutes), then you remove it or let it evaporate so the crust can brown and crisp. Too much steam for too long, and your crust stays soft. Too little steam, and your bread doesn’t expand properly.
I’ve seen bakers create elaborate steam setups—spray bottles, ice cubes, water pans, even dedicated steam injection systems. But the simplest method—a Dutch oven—works beautifully. It traps the steam naturally, creates the perfect environment, and gives you that crackly crust with minimal effort.
The sound of a perfect sourdough crust is unmistakable. When you tap it, it sings—a crisp, hollow sound that tells you everything is right. That sound is the result of proper steam, proper baking, and proper fermentation. It’s music to a baker’s ears.
10. Embrace the “Ugly” Loaf (It’s a Rite of Passage, Not a Failure)
Here’s the truth: not every loaf will be Instagram-worthy. Some will be flat. Some will be dense. Some will look like abstract art (and not in a good way). Some will taste amazing despite looking terrible. Some will look amazing but taste bland. This is normal. This is part of the process. This is how you learn.
Every baker has a collection of “ugly” loaves. They’re not failures—they’re lessons. Each one teaches you something: maybe your starter wasn’t active enough, maybe you over-proofed, maybe you didn’t score deep enough, maybe your oven wasn’t hot enough. Each “failure” is data. Each “failure” makes you better.
I have a photo album on my phone called “Bread Fails.” It’s full of loaves that looked terrible, tasted terrible, or both. But I also have notes on what went wrong with each one. That flat loaf? I learned that my starter needed more time. That dense loaf? I learned that I was over-proofing. That burnt loaf? I learned that my oven runs hot. Each “failure” taught me something valuable.
The key is to not let the “ugly” loaves discourage you. They’re part of the journey. Even professional bakers have off days. Even the most experienced bakers make mistakes. The difference is that experienced bakers know how to learn from those mistakes. They know that every loaf—even the ugly ones—is a step toward improvement.
And here’s the thing: even “ugly” bread can be delicious. That flat loaf might make amazing toast. That dense loaf might make perfect breadcrumbs. That over-proofed loaf might have amazing flavor despite its appearance. Don’t throw away your “failures”—find ways to use them. Turn them into croutons, breadcrumbs, or bread pudding. Waste not, want not.
The journey to perfect sourdough is long and winding. There will be setbacks. There will be “ugly” loaves. But there will also be moments of triumph—that perfect ear, that perfect crumb, that perfect flavor. Those moments make all the “ugly” loaves worth it.
The Journey Continues
Sourdough baking is a journey, not a destination. There will always be more to learn, more to experiment with, more to perfect. But with these tips in your toolkit, you’re well-equipped to handle whatever your starter throws at you (literally, if it decides to overflow again).
Remember: your starter is a living thing, a connection to history, a piece of your kitchen’s unique character. Treat it well, name it, feed it, and it will reward you with bread that’s worth the effort. And when things go wrong—and they will—remember that every “ugly” loaf is a lesson, every mistake is data, and every bake makes you better.
So go forth, brave baker. Name your starter. Master the float test. Score with confidence. Embrace the steam. And most importantly, don’t be afraid of the “ugly” loaves. They’re part of your story, part of your journey, part of what makes you a sourdough baker.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on Steve. He’s probably hungry again.
Ready to Start Your Sourdough Journey?
If you’re looking for more guidance, check out our sourdough cookbook reviews for recommendations on the best resources to help you on your baking journey. And remember: every expert baker was once a beginner. Your perfect loaf is out there, waiting to be baked.
Happy baking, and may your starter always float!