The first time I tried making sourdough bread, it was a humbling experience. I had nurtured my starter for a week, feeling a sense of pride with each daily feeding. On baking day, I meticulously followed the recipe, expecting a beautiful, airy loaf. The result, however, was a dense, brick-like creation with a crust that was nearly impenetrable. It was a classic frisbee loaf, a testament to my inexperience with handling such a wet dough and my impatience during the bulk fermentation. Despite the disappointing outcome, that first attempt was not a failure but a crucial lesson. It taught me that baking is a skill built on practice and a deep understanding of how the ingredients interact, sparking a determination to improve.
I enjoy the process of making sourdough because it is a rewarding practice in patience and mindfulness. Unlike conventional baking, it cannot be rushed; it demands that you work on its schedule, observing the subtle cues from the starter and the dough. The rhythmic motion of folding the dough and the quiet anticipation during the long fermentation are meditative. There is a profound satisfaction in transforming just flour, water, and salt into a complex, flavorful loaf through your own care and attention. That moment of pulling a perfectly risen, crackling loaf from the oven is a triumph, a tangible result of time and effort that fills the kitchen with an incomparable aroma and a deep sense of accomplishment.