My sourdough starter turned 11 years old this spring. In that time, I’ve neglected it, overfed it, underfed it, accidentally frozen it, left it in the fridge for a month, and once knocked the jar off the counter and watched…
The first time I added fruit to sourdough, I threw a handful of fresh blueberries into the dough during bulk fermentation. The result was a loaf with purple streaks, soggy pockets where berries had burst, and a crumb so wet…
Shaping was the skill that took me the longest to learn. I could manage fermentation, I could score, I could bake — but for the first year, every loaf came out of the oven looking like it had given up…
I didn’t start baking sourdough because I thought it was healthy. I started because I wanted good bread. But after 11 years — including three years running a home microbakery where I was producing 40 to 60 loaves a week…
For the first two years I baked sourdough, I only baked on weekends. That was the conventional wisdom — start your levain Friday night, mix Saturday morning, bake Saturday afternoon or Sunday. Clean, contained, no pressure. And honestly, it works…
For the first two years I baked sourdough seriously, every loaf I cut open looked the same: a tight, uniform crumb that tasted fine but told me nothing had really worked. I was following the right hydration numbers, using the…
People ask me all the time whether my starter is “better” because it’s old. My honest answer is: it’s complicated. I started this starter in 2014 from nothing but flour, water, and time. I nursed it through a move, a…
I remember the exact moment I realized I had been sabotaging almost every loaf I baked for the better part of a year. I was standing in my kitchen at 11pm, cutting into what was supposed to be a beautifully…
My first sourdough loaf came out of the oven looking like a deflated frisbee. It was dense, gummy in the middle, and had a crust so pale it looked like it had never seen heat. I had followed a recipe….
I want to tell you about the time I proudly pulled a sourdough loaf out of the oven, set it on the counter, and called my husband in to admire it. He looked at it. He looked at me. He said, very gently, “Babe, it’s… pale.” He was being kind. It looked like bread-shaped anxiety. … Read more
