Eating

I was gifted a sourdough discard/starter. I had no intention of making bread with it, and figured I would let it hang out for a while before chucking it in the trash. After a few life-changing belly aches due to a gluten sensitivity, I thought, “What the hell?”. What could it hurt? Let’s try this bread-making thing.

It’s not the actual bread I make, because none of it has been really that good. The process is mind-blowing. First of all, there are many steps. MANY steps. This is a two-day process. You need to commit to this bread. When people say, “I need to go home, I have a dog,” I feel like saying the same about my bread. You can watch something grow. This sounds silly as I write it, but I am like a child watching something I molded with my hands turn into something I can consume. It bubbles, it rises, it smells amazing. I’ve become addicted to the scent of yeasty, raw, stinky, sticky dough - and it makes me happy.

Has anyone ever asked you “What would you do if you weren’t doing what you are doing?”. Sure they have. I can now say I get the baking gig. I love the early hours when it is just me. I love being surrounded by the smells and the “what will happen” with this dough. I get it.