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
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
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
I want to tell you about the morning I nearly threw away a starter I had been nurturing for three months. It was a Tuesday, I had just shuffled into the kitchen in my pajamas, and when I lifted the lid off my jar I was greeted by what I can only describe as the … Read more
