The Patient Baker

A number of months ago, I began to dabble in sourdough. I've already meddled with homemade sauerkraut, so this seemed the natural next step. 

The premise of sourdough is this: the commercial yeast we use today is a fairly new invention. Before then, "yeast" was simply flour and water that was left to ferment. Then it would be combined with more flour and water in order to make bread. 

That is why, in Mitzrayim, the Hebrews left in such a rush before their bread could rise—bread then needed a long time to rise. The first proof can take twelve hours. 

When one first starts to research, it can be quite daunting. There are words like "autolyse" and "levain" and "oven spring" and "open crumb."  There are calculated percentages for "hydration," down to specifics like "67%." I'm bad enough at math, that was almost enough to completely terrify me. 

I finally had enough with the overly complicated instructions, and decided to go about the simplest methods. It took three weeks, but I finally had a frothy jar of starter. I went with whole grain recipes only, as white flour tends to mess up my stomach. 

The results weren't technically pretty, but they were tasty (even Ben likes it!). It takes time and effort, of course. There's a method called "stretch and fold" when dealing with the dough, directions on how to "develop gluten" or something, then figuring out how to manipulate dough that tends to be very wet and blobby (I'm trying challah next. I'm going to rip my hair out). 

I've joined a number of sourdough groups for further tips to hone my nonexistent skills, as have other newbies who've decided to pick up the hobby now that they've been quarantined. 

Some people are adorable. "My starter is five days old, it's not bubbling, what's wrong?!?!?" Five days? I had to fuss over my initial starter for weeks before it would pass "the float test" (don't ask). 

Sourdough is an old world food. Instant yeast was developed as the world began to speed up. The old world was a slow world, when everything took forever and no one went anywhere. 

Fermentation reintroduced me to the concept of patience. Good things come to those who wait. I sort of learned that after dating for bloody forever, but sourdough helps to reinforce the message. 

I've noticed that the sourdough is easier on my digestion—my stomach feels good after the Shabbos meal, when beforehand it would grumble a bit. Sourdough ferments the flour, which breaks it down better; there's a theory that the instant yeast is the culprit for the modern epidemic of gluten intolerance. 

I froze my starter over Pesach, sticking it on the shelf in the freezer with the whole grain wraps and muffins, and now I'm coaxing it back to life. 

I had planned on making sourdough challah this week, but so far there's only a few sluggish bubbles. It's not ready yet. So I may have to wait until next week, and that's ok. I'm itching to try a new recipe, but one can't force things. It'll be ready when it's ready. 

I can't control that.