Look what little bun I pulled out of the oven!
This might be the most impressive thing I’ve ever done.
If you recall where we started, when this was just a twinkle in my eye, it all looked like this:
Only later was I to learn that most sane people do not start a sourdough starter with grapes and a muslin bag, they start it with a sourdough starter pack that they send away for. You live, you learn, I like my way.
We moved on to this:
The pile of mush that fermented in the bucket for a couple of weeks. Then came the pain-in-the-butt period. Constant feedings, morning and night. I’d come home tired, ready for bed, then glance accusingly at the bucket in the corner. Didn’t I just feed you this morning? You’re hungry again? It is an unfortunate fact that I struggle to adapt my life to handle the weighty responsibility of a sourdough starter.
But it was all worth it when my starter started gurgling to life and my finger, after a dip in the sticky sludge, came back with a distinctly tarty tang. And so although I’m buying my weight in flour, and accidentally buying double my weight in corn flour because these old ladies keep handing me giant bags of that when I ask for flour and I keep forgetting to check (anybody planning a late thanksgiving for a small island population and in need 10 pounds of corn flour?) — anyway, in spite of all that, I am pleased to present to you my pride and joy.