We Will Rise
I have a sourdough starter chilling out in my fridge. Her name is Annette. Yup, I'm one of those--who jumped on the sourdough bandwagon. We're excellent fodder for late night comedians joking about Covid hobbies like wine drinking, competitive eating and Zoom ballet.
In the olden days--before the pandemic--I'd happily plunk down five or six bucks for a loaf of sourdough. It was probably baked that morning, and tasted perfectly fine. Then, in early April 2020, as the first surge of illness exploded around the globe, my voice student Annette offered me some sourdough starter.
I had a rough time at the start of the pandemic. Overnight, my environment felt unsafe, evoking anxiety-ridden memories of my world falling apart when my first husband David's plane crashed into a vineyard. I needed a diversion. I don't knit or make TikTok videos, and missed the crafting gene. And it was too early to plant my garden.
So I accepted my student's starter, willing myself to suss out the varied, intricate instructions around maintenance and feeding, stretching & folding vs. kneading, and which proofing vessel would produce the perfect loaf. I bought my first kitchen scale, learned to combine just the right amount of flour and water to keep Annette happy. I took a ridiculous amount of pleasure checking on the bubbly progress she made overnight.
Baking bread doesn't provide instant gratification. It's a three-day process, which was perfect for my state of mind. I could feel productive (yes I'm watching The Crown, but my bread is rising!) even though I couldn't go anywhere or make any plans. My family loved my new hobby, happily slathering still-warm slices with Irish butter, blackberry jam or avocado (I'm a Californian after all.)
Passing on starter to friends gives me a feeling of connection, offering a respite from my current isolation. As a cook and a foodie, it ties me to our epicurean history, from its origins in ancient Egypt to the Gold Rush to the current pandemic reality. I often write while my bread is in the stretch-and-fold phase, giving me an excuse to take a break. It's fun to watch the ingredients take shape from a gooey mass to a smooth, elastic moldable dough. Plus, homemade bread is a great gift. Trust me, no one has ever turned down a loaf of homemade sourdough.
In a pinch, I still buy bread occasionally. But then I'm denying myself the pleasure of the process. Now please excuse me, I have to go feed Annette.
Original Post: https://dearreader.typepad.com/dear/2021/04/dear-reader-column-april-27-2021.html?cid=6a00d8341c4e9d53ef0263e9a0f25b200b#comment-6a00d8341c4e9d53ef0263e9a0f25b200b
