on sourdough and love

 i guess a lot of people started baking sourdough bread in 2020.  i missed that train but caught another at the next station.  it seems my turn to babysit starter.

it happened like this.  i was on my way out to a new housesitting job and passed friends' home that i hadn't seen for quite a while, so was just thinking about them and wondering how they were doing.

in a seemingly unconnected errand, i went to the library and got a happy pile of items and decided to read a book about sourdough that evening (by robin sloan, quirky and fun novel).  maybe because it was the last thing i thought about before bed, i dreamed about bread and woke up wanting to bake it.

so i asked a co-worker of mine, who bakes amazing bread, if she had some starter she could share with me.  as it turns out, the starter is 130-years-old and is from the friends i had been thinking about earlier in the week!  so not only do i have an amazing bread culture, but it's been kept alive over a century and comes from folks i adore.

as i type, two loaves are on their second rise.  it seems so completely and indescribably wholesome--spiritual even--to be undertaking this endeavor.  and like i'm part of a bread-baking history of grand proportions. (do i talk to the starter like it's a houseplant?  does it like music?  am i overthinking this?)  

speaking of proportions, i'm feeling a bit insecure because i've had to calculate grams to cups, not having a kitchen scale, so fingers crossed that i measured everything correctly.  and i've "fed" the starter and put it back in the fridge.  i know i can't sustain feeding it every day out on the counter but i think i can handle a once-a-week baking and feeding schedule.  god forbid 130 year tradition should die on my watch.  

culture and love, what a great combination.  wish me luck!