The first time I tried making sourdough bread, it was a humbling experience. I had nurtured my starter for days, watching for the telltale bubbles that signaled its readiness. Confidently, I mixed the flour and water, feeling the dough come together. However, my inexperience showed during the bulk fermentation; I misjudged the timing and the dough overproofed. The result was a dense, flat loaf with a gummy crumb and a crust that was more tough than crisp. It was a far cry from the airy, open-crumbed bread I had envisioned, but it was a crucial lesson in patience and the importance of understanding the process rather than just following a recipe.
Despite that initial setback, I find the process of making sourdough deeply rewarding. I enjoy the slow, methodical nature of it, a quiet contrast to a fast-paced world. There is a unique satisfaction in working with a living ingredient, learning to read the dough’s subtle cues, and using my hands to shape it. The anticipation that builds during the long fermentation is always worth it when I finally pull a golden, blistered loaf from the oven. That moment of cracking the crust and seeing the soft, steaming interior is a small triumph. For me, it is a fulfilling practice that connects me to a timeless culinary tradition.