I caved. Actually I didn’t cave, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the thought of learning to make sourdough bread during #Quarantine2020. I mean, what better time?

It all started on a Thursday afternoon (April 2) when I decided this was going to be my new project. You guys know that I am unafraid to tackle pretty much any baking endeavor. I’ve made breads before, thousands of cookies and cakes and bars and brownies, ice creams, pudding, pies – I haven’t done it all but I’ve done a lot. So I really wasn’t thinking (naively) that making sourdough and sourdough starter would be an issue. I could not wait to add a loaf to my baking resume.

The instructions were pretty straight forward, laid out day by day (it’s a several day process) and didn’t require much active work. It took about 5 minutes to get going, and then an additional 3-5 minutes each day afterwards. I figured we would be eating a warm and crusty loaf of bread within the week!

DAY 1 – I had done my research. I gathered my (very few) ingredients. I had a plan. I weighed out my flour and water, mixed with ~love~ gently covered and placed in my usual bread-rising-location. We were off and running!

DAY 2 – I didn’t see much, a few popped bubbles here and there. Nothing really noteworthy here other than the fact that it had obviously thickened.

DAY 3 – I peeled the cling wrap off the top of the bowl and was genuinely shocked by the smell. It immediately made my eyes water! But from my reading I knew that this just meant things were progressing. It is called SOURdough, after all. The batter (?) was super bubbly, almost looked like black pepper flecks – they were bubbles, I checked. Went about business as usual, while telling everyone how nasty it smelled all day long. This was the peak for starter #1…

DAY 4 – I had missed my 24-hour mark to feed my starter. Not by much, but it was a significant delay. The bubbles were long gone, and replaced with a very liquid-y and oily looking goopy substance. It still smelled awful – think old socks, rotting cheese and stale beer. Much to my chagrin, I added the flour and water for the day and covered. Things have started to go south.

A note – I now know this liquid-y gunk is called “hooch” and means your starter is hungry. You’re supposed to pour it off the top and resume usual sourdough activity. *** Please also note, I did NOT do this at the time ***

DAY 5 – On day 5, I made homemade pasta for dinner. 4 pounds of it to be exact. For anyone who hasn’t made homemade pasta before, it is taxing. It’s very time consuming and leaves a huge mess in its wake. So by the time the pasta dough was made, kneaded, rested, shaped, cut, boiled, eaten and cleaned up – I was D-O-N-E. I put the bowl on the counter so I wouldn’t forget about it, and was disgusted every time I looked in its direction. Day 4 had me feeling like I blew it and on Day 5 I was exhausted. Not a great combo, but I wasn’t quuuuite ready to give up on it. Until to my horror, I noticed that some splashes of red wine found home in my uncovered bowl of starter. It was the perfect storm. With an exasperated sigh, I grabbed a ziplock bag and furiously dumped the starter in, promptly gagged at the stench, zipped it tight and slammed the garbage drawer shut.

I realize now that I may have committed the ultimate sin in throwing out a 5 day old sourdough “starter.” I’m sure there is something I could have done to save it from it’s ziplock-bag-demise. But the simple fact is that I was OVER! *claps* IT! *claps* It was no longer being made with love, or any sense of accomplishment. It was time to admit defeat.

So, evidently I haven’t done enough research. This is not going to be as simple and straightforward as I originally thought. We will not be eating warm, crusty, homemade sourdough this week. But that’s ok! NOW I have a project. I’m smarter now. And I vow to be more patient and loving, and less forgetful and cranky. And maybe, juuuuust maybe, my second starter will love me back.