The Gift that Keeps on Giving

I got a small container of sourdough starter from a friend last fall.  I already have a grade-schooler who’s been begging for a dog, and I have successfully put him off for a few years.  So I was a bit reluctant to commit to the feeding and care of a new “pet”, but my friend insisted, assuring me that if I got sick of taking care of it, it could actually even be thrown into the freezer for a few months, then thawed and started back on its feeding cycle.  I took it home and opened the container to take a whiff.  Yuck.  Tiny air bubbles dotted the surface of this somewhat runny, off-white goo.

The “pet” fortunately came with instructions, and a suggestion that this particular starter might be over 150 years old, passed down continuously from pioneers that crossed the west via the Oregon Trail.  My friend had brought it from Washington State, and the guy that she got it from has had his for 30 or 40 years.  No kidding.  I was intrigued.  She also gave me other recipes; I had heard of sourdough bread, of course, but who knew about sourdough pancakes?  And a sourdough chocolate cake that doesn’t need baking powder?  Crazy!  So, I took my starter home, read the care and feeding instructions, and diligently made it grow enough to try the pancakes the next weekend.  Yowsa!  I threw in some frozen blueberries from our Michigan u-pick haul last summer, and breakfast was just heavenly!

Since that first weekend I’ve probably made the pancakes a couple more times, the cake twice (with an icing made of half a jar of doce de leite caramel I brought back from Brazil), and10 loaves of sourdough bread (I’ve got the recipe memorized).  I’ve mistreated the starter (accidentally added some gluten-free flour blend—blech!), ignored the starter (it had a funny, brownish “skin” on top when I got back from my two-week Brazil trip), added too much liquid to the starter (I balanced it out with some more flour the next time), used evaporated milk instead of regular milk, left it out on the counter for 2-3 days, then back in the fridge…all with no lasting ill effects.  The darn’ thing is still thriving.

To feed the starter, you simply add equal parts of milk and flour, stir it up, cover it, and leave it out overnight.  You shouldn’t add new ingredients that total more volume than the starter itself.  If you feel funny about leaving milk out on the counter because it will go bad, I assure you it will go bad.  And that’s what you want.  Sourdough starter is essentially a bacterial process of fermentation in a controlled environment.  As long as you keep your utensils and hands clean, change out the non-reactive container every so often, and keep the starter covered, you are relatively safe from the bad bacteria.  Also, keep in mind that the bread or cake or pancakes are completely cooked.  Finally, if you really can’t handle leaving milk out on the counter overnight, just use canned evaporated milk.  The flavor will be slightly stronger, but still quite tasty.  The rest of the time it can sit in your fridge untouched for two to three weeks.  Sourdough supposedly has health benefits owing to the fermentation process; sourdough bread is reputed to have a lower glycemic index than its non-sourdough white bread cousin.

The bread couldn’t be easier; it’s mostly a question of timing.  I need to start it the night before a day or morning when I have a two-hour and 15 minute block of time to be home.  I’ve also timed it where I’ve left it out the maximum for both the first and second rise, then baked it right after work and before a 6:30 start evening potluck.  First, you put three cups of unbleached unbromated white flour in a glass or ceramic bowl, whisk in ¼ teaspoon of yeast, and 1 teaspoon of salt.  If my starter is looking more liquid than solid, I add another ¼  cup of flour.  After the dry ingredients are well blended, add ½ cup of the gooey starter and 1 ½ cups of water.  I always use filtered water for bread, as I’ve heard that chlorine interferes with the rising of dough, especially in yeast breads.  I figure I’ll be on the safe side with the sourdough as well.  Mix.  The instructions tell me not to worry or fuss too much about the shaggy mess of dough.  Then I cover it with dreaded (but hopefully BPC-free) plastic wrap and let it sit on the counter for 12-18 hours.  I re-feed my starter at the same time, replacing once again the ½ cup of starter I removed with ½ cup of milk and ½ cup of flour, then leaving it on the counter overnight.

Quite truthfully, I’ve always wanted a Kitchen Aid stand mixer, and have never been able to settle on a color, size, or model.  The cherry red is gorgeous and cheerful.  My friend in Brazil has a snappy orange model from the 60s or 70s.  My other friend has a white one her husband found by the side of the road and repaired.  Should I opt for the stainless steel/chrome version, like my other appliances?  Decisions, decisions.  But I think subconsciously I haven’t yet bought one because I think it’s slightly frivolous.  After all, I mix up the dough for my favorite bread with the simplest of tools:  a fork.  And then later, my hands.  Just can’t justify a Kitchen Aid for that….

After it sits, the bread dough looks gooey and you’re wondering how in the world you’re going to knead it.  I usually sprinkle it with flour before upturning the bowl onto the floured countertop, then sprinkle the other side before kneading.  In fact, I probably add another ½ cup of flour.  The instructions say to “knead about five times.”  I don’t know what that means, so I knead lightly for a minute, then use my plastic wrap to line the bowl, put the dough in, and wrap it up.  Wait another hour.  Or a couple of hours.

I have a small Le Creuset oval roaster that I have found to be useful for very few things, so it is now my sourdough bread pot.  The cast iron is great for this bread, as it really has to “cook” before baking.  I put the pot, lid on top, in the oven and preheat to 450 degrees.  With a minimum of thirty minutes later, the pot is nice and hot.  I give it a quick spritz with canola oil spray, then dump the dough in.  The lid goes on, and the bread cooks in the pot in the oven for 25 minutes.  At 25 minutes, the lid comes off, and I set the timer for another 10 minutes.  I make sure to remove the bread immediately from its pot and let it cool on a wire rack.  If you can wait that long!  Have a bread knife and the butter dish handy when it comes out of the oven.

The crust is sometimes tough, so I need to study how to take care of that.  I suspect that not using more finely milled bread flour might be partly to blame.  Or…maybe I’ll pass that duty on to the next person taking some of the starter.  Who’s game….?