I’ll never forget the morning I opened my oven at 5 a.m. to find a collapsed, over-fermented disaster staring back at me. The dough had been bulking for what I thought was eight hours. It had actually been sitting there for nearly twelve, spreading across my proofing bowl like a pancake, its structure completely destroyed. … Read more
I stood in my kitchen at 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning, staring at my sourdough starter jar with the kind of bewildered expression usually reserved for defusing bombs. My beloved starter—the one I’d named Gerald and nurtured for three years through my microbakery days—was bubbling over the counter like a science fair volcano. Not … Read more
For the longest time, my bulk ferment was a complete guessing game. I was using a random ceramic mixing bowl covered with plastic wrap, and I had absolutely no idea how much my dough had risen. Every bake felt like…
I want to tell you about the Sunday afternoon I sat on my kitchen floor and cried over a loaf of bread. Not metaphorically. Actually sat down, back against the cabinet, flour on my shirt, and cried. I had been chasing a specific flavor for months — that deep, complex, almost wine-like tang you get … Read more
It was 6 a.m. on a Sunday, and I was standing in my kitchen in mismatched socks, staring at a bowl of sourdough that had absolutely refused to rise overnight. My in-laws were arriving at noon for brunch. I had promised them fresh sourdough. I had, in fact, bragged about it. “Oh, I’ll make my … Read more
It was 6:47 on a Sunday morning and I was standing in my kitchen in my bathrobe, holding a lump of dough that could only be described as a deflated football, whispering “please, please, please” to it like that was going to help. My starter had gone rogue. My bulk ferment had overproofed overnight. My … Read more
It was 5:47am on a Tuesday, I was still in my pajamas, flour was somehow on my ceiling, and I had to leave for work in exactly 43 minutes. My sourdough loaf was sitting on the counter looking absolutely perfect and absolutely unbaked. I had completely miscalculated my timeline. Again. If you’ve ever tried to … Read more
It was 7:14 on a Saturday morning when I stood in my kitchen in mismatched socks, staring at a very sad, very flat loaf of sourdough and wondering how I had managed to ruin bread that was supposed to be done by dinner. My mother-in-law was arriving at 6 PM. I had promised her a … Read more
It was 11:47 PM on a Tuesday, and I was standing in my kitchen in mismatched socks, frantically googling “can you over-proof sourdough in the fridge” with flour-dusted hands, while my dough sat on the counter like a silent accusation. I had started my overnight bulk ferment sourdough journey approximately four hours earlier with enormous … Read more
