Inspiration comes from many places, sometimes when a friend hands you a jar or perhaps while thumbing through a magazine.
For about six months now, I’ve been transfixed by the earthy aroma of sourdough. My neighbor set this obsession in motion one afternoon, exuberantly scooping a blob of off-white bubbling mass into a jar at the end of a visit and handing it to me as I headed for the door, bidding me good luck: “You’ll figure it out,” she’d said.
Excited at the prospect of making sourdough bread, but unaware of the responsibility I’d accepted, I toted my jar from the car to the fridge and began a deep dive reading blog posts. When I came up for air, I realized I’d become overwhelmed: It was my duty to feed this colony of living beings. Considering the critters already dwelling inside and outside our home, not to mention the garden I was planning and yard we were working to establish, did I need one more thing to keep alive?
As a child and teenager, I found myself in the kitchen every few days mixing some blend that incorporated flour. Cakes, cookies, cupcakes, brownies. I loved to bake. I also loved to eat bread and, carrying that passion into adulthood, I’ve sought time and again to produce a lovely yeast bread. Still, a consistent result evades me.
But I was intrigued by the idea of sourdough. So, I focused my attention on Maurizio Leo and his book and website The Perfect Loaf and found myself regularly measuring flour into a Mason jar set atop a scale. I’d watch eagerly as the stiff mass of water, flour, and starter would gradually rise, accumulating bubbles, loosening, and releasing that ubiquitous sour aroma. At first, I just tried discard recipes: pancakes and crackers (absolute favorites), plus cookies, banana bread, tortillas, and more. Then I tried a sourdough-leavened pizza and fell in love.
When I stumbled upon a mention of The Perfect Loaf while reading an article by Judy Cornell of Conservation Grains, I knew my fate was sealed. It was time to try the bread.
The first few times I baked sourdough, I was exacting in my adherence to the recipe. Even still, the resulting loaves were dense and chewy.
Sourdough requires a lengthy time frame, often consisting of one day to prepare the dough, an overnight rest in the fridge, and baking on the second day. At one point in my experimenting, my plans changed and, after preparing the dough, I realized I needed to make the 45-minute drive to town the next day and would likely be occupied until the evening. Baking, which I usually did in the morning, would have to wait.
The next day, when I returned home, I gently tucked the first boule into my Dutch oven. An hour later, I observed the caramelized exterior, gentle cracks where I’d scored the dough, and the loaf’s distinctive round surface. And when I sliced into it after the bread had somewhat cooled, I thrilled at its tender interior. I took a deep breath, and each consecutive loaf has been brilliant.
Inspiration comes from many places, sometimes when a friend hands you a jar or perhaps while thumbing through a magazine. Good luck!
Jessianne Castle
Editor in Chief
