I stared at the jar sitting on my kitchen counter, and my stomach sank. It had been three weeks since I’d fed my sourdough starter—three weeks of life getting in the way, of forgotten intentions, of the kind of neglect that makes you feel like a terrible baker. The surface was dark and crusty. There … Read more
I’ll never forget the morning my husband walked into the kitchen, took one whiff of my sourdough starter jar, and genuinely asked if I’d spilled nail polish remover on the counter. His nose wrinkled. His eyes watered. He actually backed away slowly, like he’d discovered a biohazard in our fridge. “That’s just hooch,” I said, … Read more
Last winter, my sourdough starter turned into a sluggish, barely-bubbling mess. I live in a drafty older home, and my kitchen sits at around 64°F from November through March. No matter what I tried — longer bulk ferments, more frequent…
I had killed three sourdough starters in two months. Three. Each time, I followed guides, watched videos, and still ended up with a sad, flat jar of flour and water that smelled more like nail polish remover than bread. So…
I want to tell you about the morning I confidently announced to my husband that my sourdough starter had “really come into its own” — right before I picked up the jar and accidentally poured half of it down the front of my pajamas. It had the consistency of gray pancake batter, it smelled vaguely … Read more
I want to tell you about the morning I stood in my kitchen, nose hovering over my sourdough starter jar, convinced I had somehow created nail polish remover. My sourdough starter smells like acetone, I typed frantically into Google with one hand while fanning the jar away from my face with the other. My husband … Read more
I opened the fridge to grab some leftover pasta, and there it was — a mason jar shoved all the way to the back, behind the mustard and a suspicious block of cheese, wearing a gray-brown liquid hat like some kind of sourdough Ghost of Christmas Past. I had completely forgotten about my starter. For … Read more
It was 6 a.m. on a Tuesday in February, and I was standing in my kitchen in two pairs of socks, staring into a jar of what can only be described as sad, flat, defeated goo. My sourdough starter — the one I had been nurturing for eight months — had not budged a single … Read more
It was day fourteen, and I was standing in my kitchen at 7am, staring at a jar of what looked like slightly lumpy paste. No bubbles. No dome. No signs of life whatsoever. My sourdough starter won’t rise, I typed desperately into Google for what felt like the hundredth time, flour dust still on my … Read more
It was 6:47 in the morning, I hadn’t had coffee yet, and I was standing in my kitchen staring at my sourdough starter like it had personally betrayed me. There was something growing on top of it. Something white, flat, and very much not supposed to be there. I immediately grabbed my phone and typed … Read more
