In the back of the fridge, we have a jar. My parents ignore it, my sister avoids touching it, and my grandparents have continuously refused to store it in their fridge. Its name is Bartholomew and, as of last month, it is now four years old. Originally its name was Loxley, and apparently I had some sort of clever pun but no one ever got it, and quite frankly I’m horrible at puns anyways. Besides, in the end, Bartholomew was simply a more suitably dignified name.
Bartholomew is a sourdough starter I started back in Grade 8 for a school project, and thanks to my (abusive) love, it has somehow continued to hang onto life and produce an occasional heavy and slightly odd tasting loaf. Sourdough starters are essentially flour and water vehicles for your local strain of wild yeast and lactobacillus bacteria (what gives it the acidity associated with sourdough.)
To be honest, my love for my sourdough starter is more idealistic than anything else. It’s supposed to be a symbiotic relationship, mutualism: I feed the sourdough starter and it makes me wonderful bread. Whereas, in reality, every few months I feed my sourdough starter, use the excess to bake a brick masquerading as a loaf which then sits on the counter until it either a) becomes hard enough to actually serve as a construction material, or b) if in a bag, molds. It does, however, enable me to superciliously scoff at those who make bread with commercial yeast, even when I make bread several times worse than anyone else.
But why should you have a sourdough starter? There are actual advantages as well: consider that in a typical lean dough, the yeast is likely the most expensive ingredient, and if you really like, make Tuscan bread and cut the salt as well. Secondly, a particular glory of the sourdough starter for me, convenience: you have neither obligation, need, nor demanding voice in your conscience, to make a pre-ferment—the sourdough starter (well, ideally) is the preferment, so (again, ideally) you should have a step up on gluten and flavour development… of course, the “developed flavour” that my sourdough starter contributes is usually an off, bitter, slightly alcoholic taste.
But really, with a sourdough starter, you are inheriting a legacy. Leavened bread first began to appear in Ancient Egypt, around 1500 BC (thank you grade 8 bread research project). Bread bakers were high-class figures in Roman times. I have a bit of a hundred-year old starter in our fridge right now, courtesy of relatives in Montreal (which is unfortunately going uncared for). Like urban beekeeping, raw food diets, and Justin Bieber, sourdough culture is a big, fantastic and fabulous thing, and what I love most about having a sourdough starter is being able to be part of it.
Let me leave you with a charming article I recently read about starter culture and bakers much more wonderful than me.
