James Whitmore 
I want to tell you about the time I accidentally made the most beautiful loaf of my entire baking life while trying to hide evidence of a mistake from my husband. It started with a mislabeled bag, a moment of panic, and a desperate Google search at 11pm. And somewhere in the middle of that … Read more
I want to tell you about the morning I stood in my kitchen, staring at two sourdough loaves like a disappointed parent at a science fair, wondering why on earth I had just spent six weeks obsessively testing water quality sourdough filtered vs tap when both loaves looked… completely fine. Not revelatory. Not catastrophic. Just … Read more
I want to tell you about the time I confidently ordered what I thought was “fancy bread flour” online, proceeded to bake four increasingly dense and confusing loaves over two weekends, and only realized my mistake when my neighbor — who was just being polite about the bread, bless her — asked why my sourdough … Read more
It was 6:47 on a Tuesday morning, and I was standing in my kitchen staring at what can only be described as a puddle. Not bread dough. A puddle. The kind of thing that spreads slowly across your countertop with the quiet confidence of something that has absolutely no intention of holding a shape. I … Read more
I still remember standing at my kitchen counter, staring at what could only be described as a very expensive, very heavy doorstop. It was a Tuesday evening, the house smelled amazing, and I had just unmolded my very first spelt sourdough bread onto the cooling rack. It thudded. Like, actually thudded. My husband wandered in … Read more
I still remember standing in my kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, slicing into what I was absolutely convinced would be my best loaf yet. Golden crust, gorgeous ear, perfect crumb. I had followed every step. I handed a slice to my husband, watched his face carefully, and… nothing. A polite nod. “It’s good,” he said, … Read more
I pulled my sourdough loaf out of the oven on a Sunday afternoon, and it was genuinely the most beautiful thing I had ever baked. I am not exaggerating. The crust was deep mahogany brown, blistered in all the right places, and when I tapped the bottom it made that hollow knock that every sourdough … Read more
I pulled my Dutch oven out of the oven, set it on the counter, and lifted the lid with the kind of dramatic flair you only develop after months of sourdough obsession. The top of my loaf? Pale, soft, barely kissed with color. The bottom? A crime scene. A perfect, pitch-black, smoke-alarm-triggering crime scene. This … Read more
I stood at my kitchen counter at 7am, oven mitts still on, staring at the most pathetic loaf I had ever baked. No ear. Not even a hint of one. Just a smooth, rounded dome that had split down the side like it was laughing at me. If you have ever Googled “sourdough ear won’t … Read more
I still remember the exact moment I sliced into what I thought was my best loaf yet. The crust shattered perfectly, the score had bloomed beautifully, and the smell coming out of my oven was absolutely intoxicating. Then my bread knife hit something wrong in the center. Gummy. Dense. Raw. I had a textbook case … Read more
