What
I’ve learned on My Sourdough Journey
There
are two reasons I started this journey into the food chemistry known as sourdough:
1.
I was taking a class at my local college entitled “The Blue Zones – Nine Lessons
for Living Longer” and had just read about an island off the shore of Italy
called Sardinia. At the time the information for the book was being researched
and at the time of its publication, Sardinia wasn’t the tourist mecca it is
today. People in one of the villages located up in the mountains were known for
living well into their nineties and many were in their hundreds. Among the
things that are thought to have provided them such longevity is their diet of
nuts, fruits, vegetables, Cannonau wine, and sourdough bread.
2.
I decided to make a hard change to my own diet and began eating nuts, lots of
fruit, lots of veggies, and, of course, added the Cannonau wine. Bread has
always been one of those things that I can’t stop eating. So, there’s never any
bread in my house, at least not until I reached that point of sourdough no return. I began
researching sourdough bread, and began my own journey on June 19th, after
seeing a picture of a loaf of sourdough bread that had been painted with
beautiful white daisies and pink roses. I thought to myself, “I can do that.”
And so, that’s exactly what I set out to do.
Now,
I had no idea that learning how to make sourdough is equivalent
to taking a chemistry class. It’s a science project in sheep’s clothing. As I
have since learned, having some chemistry under your belt wouldn’t have been a
bad idea when it comes to learning how to make sourdough bread – especially when
making the starter. According to Wikipedia, “Chemistry deals with the
properties, composition, and structure of elements and compounds, how they can
change, and the energy that is released or absorbed when they change.”
And
while sourdough starter is literally only two ingredients, flour and water,
it’s the reactions that ensue from combining those two simple things that ended
up rocking my world.
Of
note: While attending Florida State University in 1972, I registered for a
chemistry class, thinking, “How hard can this be?” I had recently graduated
from high school in the top 10-percent of my class, I had made amazing grades with little effort, and I had
always been a quick study.
My
first day of chemistry class as a freshman at FSU was also my last. I remember
quite clearly the instructor explaining that the science of chemistry, and blah, blah, blah. Then everything went
gray. I remember hearing something about nothing being smaller than an atom and
something about a subatomic domain and it was at that moment that I decided to
take the F.
When would I ever apply anything I could learn in this class to real life?
When
class ended, I immediately went to the registrar’s office to find two classes I
could take that would offset the F I would get in chemistry (because I wanted
to keep my GPA up). I registered for Women’s Glee Club and Bowling. I could
really belt out some tunes back then, and I had spent three successful years on
a bowling league while in high school. Luckily, I was right. My two As offset
my F in Chemistry.
Little
did I know that somewhere in time, chemistry would matter in my life. (Sidebar:
Kind of like skipping my typing class during much of my senior year in high
school, because “I was never going to be some man’s secretary.” I practiced a
little and showed up for tests and still made As. Lucky girl.)
Back
to sourdough. Much like the micro-organisms living inside each of us, the
bacteria that allows sourdough to flourish follows a type of life cycle. They
are born, they grow, they multiply, and, unfortunately, eventually die.
For
sourdough, the cycle resets every time we refresh or feed our culture. That
reset is in the flour, it’s in the air, it’s on our hands, it’s in water, it’s
in the jar, and on the spatula used to stir.
I
reset each time my son says “I love you,” when I learn something new-to-me,
when I’m afforded the opportunity to travel to places I’ve never before been,
when there’s a new moon, when I begin my day in grateful meditation, and when I
end my day in the arms of my husband. Those are some of the things that
refresh/feed me and make me grow.
When
the sourdough starter that’s been fed fresh flour and water grows, it’s used to
make loaves of bread to help fuel us. When I’ve been refreshed and grow, I’m then
able to use my energy on the people I love and the things I enjoy doing. And,
yes, even cleaning and doing laundry.
Just
before the dough goes into the oven, I try to design a score that will help to
make her beautiful. Is it necessary that she be beautiful? Of course not. But
it’s not unlike each of us applying make up before going out with family or
friends. That extra touch makes us feel better and, frankly, sends a message to
those around us that we care about ourselves, too.
When
the scoring doesn’t go as planned, thanks to my crazy tremors, it’s no
different than when my lipstick and eye makeup are messed up. The bread still
tastes great, and I’m still the same person.
· My sourdough journey
has taught me a new level of patience and perseverance. I’ve always believed
I’m not a quitter (minus dropping or skipping classes I thought I’d never use in my life.),
but I most certainly wasn’t going to be beat by wild yeast and friendly
bacteria.
· Although I’m a very
organized person, this journey has brought to bear a new need for paying
attention to exact measurements and exact timing. One gram in either direction can
be the difference between a dough that ends up heavy and one that rises beyond
the top of the banneton basket. Exact timing takes practice. I was up all night
with my first three loaves and my first try at focaccia.
· I’ve learned that
there’s no such thing as failure in this game of sourdough bread baking. My
husband ate them all. As “they” say, “One man’s trash is another’s treasure.” About
30-years ago, I began decorating cakes, but believed in failures. I’d spend way
too much time perfecting each rose petal, each leaf, each border, and not
enough time stepping back and looking at the whole picture. It has taken me a
very long time to learn to be kind to myself when things aren’t as I planned.
· I find this journey
to be meditative and it has helped make me more mindful.
· I enjoy the process
with each and every loaf and get super excited when I remove a baked loaf from
the oven. Perhaps it’s because a friend told me to name my starter. I named her
Julia, for my mother who would be so thrilled with this journey. So, she’s with
me each time I step into the kitchen to dabble in sourdough.
I
don’t know why, and I’m not likely to spend any time worrying about it, but
when I retired, I lost interest in crafting, sewing, painting, etc. All of the
things that had driven me prior to retirement suddenly became of no interest to
me. My sourdough journey has awoken my creative juices. Now, at any given time,
you can find me working on a chunky blanket, canvas weave, macrame, painting, baking
bread, or anything else that tugs at my creative heart.
Despite
the naysayers, those who have been reminding me that I can go to the grocery
store and buy a loaf of sourdough bread for $4.99, my journey has brought me so
much joy.
Because
as with anything; putting the last chapter on your newly written book, taking a
cruise on a certain ship, winning an award, getting a promotion, celebrating
your 51st wedding anniversary – it’s not about the destination, but
rather it’s about the journey.
