Hi friendo! I’m still on the road in Ontario visiting my family. By the time this ends up in your inbox, I’ll likely be in the air, so I wrote this a few days early during a quiet moment at my parents’ place.
Mighty Gaylene
I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you I named my sourdough starter. I made it from scratch myself a couple years back, which meant I had naming rights. I named her Gaylene.
Gaylene has been a dependable member of the team for quite a while. I’ve made dozens (if not over a hundred now) loaves of bread with her over the years. I’ve divided her up and given her to friends, and she now lives on in the pantries of some very talented bread-makers.
I decided to bring a bit of Gaylene with me to Ontario, so I could make some bread at my parents’ place. I wanted to be careful about how much I brought through the airport inspection, since she is technically a liquid. I carefully measured 20 grams into a container, knowing I could easily feed her and have plenty of starter to make a loaf of bread within a day or so.
Unfortunately, between the air pressure of the airplane and being an active yeast, she burst open the confines of her tupperware and spilled over the contents of my bag.
I don’t blame Gaylene. This was my own doing.
By the time I got to my parents’ house, there wasn’t much of Gaylene left. I put her on a scale. There was less than a gram.
Luckily, even less than a gram isn’t zero. So I fed her. I gave her about five grams each of water and flour. Four hours later, I had just under 11 grams of bubbly starter. I fed her again. This time, I fed her about 20 grams each of water and flour.
Four hours after that, I had about 50 grams. And she was bubbly as ever. I added another 30 each of water and flour and left her overnight.
By morning, I had easily enough active starter to begin baking. I mixed up a loaf and set it to rise.
The dough rose like a charm. In 36 hours, I’d gone from less than a gram of starter, to a lovely, springy, airy ball of risen dough, just ready for its final proofing session in the fridge.
It was ready to bake the next morning. I didn’t have my normal scoring tools, so I made due with a sharp knife and a pair of scissors. In the end, it turned into a beautiful boule of whole wheat sourdough bread.
And I can confirm, it makes a lovely tomato sandwich.
That’s all she wrote this week. Thank you for hanging out with me for yet another Sunday morning.
Over in Dunnock Bay, old Darryl the cat is still on the run. You better go read it.
Have a great week.