Scribbles & Munch

      The history of sourdough bread is long and illustrious, and its connection to the California Gold Rush is widely known. However, it has hitherto been unknown in my kitchen. Therefore, this foray into baking from a sourdough starter is pure adventure for me. There may be many of you reading over my steps with sorrowful head shakes and eye rolls, predicting with the sagacity of experience my eminent failure. And to you I wave, smile, and say, "Well, we all had to start somewhere!" If this messes up too badly, I'll toss out the whole mess and make brownies.
       Today I'm on Stage Three of my Winter Sourdough Starter, which starts with a sacrifice to the Baking Gods. Ok, not really...but if you didn't understand the chemistry behind taking half of your starter dough and ditching it, then laying it on a rock for spiritual appeasement seems as good an explanation as any.

The wad in the dirty egg pan on the right is being tossed. Note the digital scale under the bowl on the left--best $8.49 I ever spent.

After that, basically all I did was add more water and flour, and knead the thing into submission.

The resulting dough was slightly looser than its predecessors, but still considerably more dough-like than any other starter I've ever encountered. But it's going to rest for a couple days before being transformed into a lovely final loaf, so we'll see if the magic happens. I've scheduled to bake this on what is shaping up to be the coldest day of winter, so if it works out, I will be a very, VERY happy woman for several reasons.