TENDING YOUR SOURDOUGH STARTER DURING LOCKDOWN

Mind & Body | 2022 TENDING YOUR SOURDOUGH STARTER

DURING LOCKDOWN

Making Bread can be seen as a coping mechanism

By Joe Ortiz Many people got real cozy with their sourdough starter at the beginning of Covid, but those who didn’t already own one had to beg a friend or a local baker for a precious morsel to start the process.

I pictured many a house-bound soul zooming the SPCA to find a new pet.

That's a good attitude! It reminds me of the question an interviewer once asked Sylvester Stallone’s wife (I’m paraphrasing here): “How do you feel about your husband being such a macho dude?” Her answer: “It’s better than having a husband who hangs around the house all day, baking bread.”

Let’s face it, while some men face real-life opponents and challenges, others take a more primal approach to help satisfy a need to give birth by turning static ingredients — flour and water — into a living creature. But can we go too far when we find ourselves treating our starter with too much love and affection?

I don’t think so. Making bread can be seen as a coping mechanism.

So, when my godson, Evan, asked me to help him with his sourdough country bread, I accepted wholeheartedly.

Having been a baker for 20 years, I thought it best to teach him technique first. But patience is more important. He wsurely could get all the technique he needed from the internet.

So, I told him: “Treat your levain (French for “chief leavening” or “mother dough”) like a little puppy dog. Feed it. See how it behaves.” He texted me back, saying that, after feedings, his new pet started to respond every 3 to 4 hours. And so, he learned about predictability through observation.

“Think young,” I told him. “Just because we call it sourdough doesn’t mean you want to let your starter sit around until it starts smelling like Limburger cheese. “Mildly aromatic,” is what we’re striving for. When we feed it, it gets fresh and gains propulsion. Nourish it with a little meal, and it will react. Then you respond to its movement. You build a symbiotic relationship.

“Get into a dance with it,” I tell Evan. And don’t punch it like Sly might do. Coddle it with kid gloves and kindness.

Home bakers often call me to say, “I tried letting my starter get more and more sour, but the loaves rise even less.” It’s true. French bakers tell us the opposite: “When the levain is fresh it has a greater capacity to raise the dough.”

Of course, this is counter-intuitive. But like spoon-feeding a child, a husband, or a pet, nourishment is essential for wellbeing, stability, and contentment.

When you learn how a starter reacts to frequent feedings, intuitively you start responding back. (Moving it toward a warm oven when it’s sluggish or putting it in a cool place to slow it down, for example.)

It’s not “rocket surgery” – it’s easy if we pay attention. Like a good marriage (ahem!) — we may forget for a moment by nudging and prodding, but then we watch for signs of response, and we nurture, apologetically. I’m thinking of Sly Stone’s wife again. She must get goose bumps when he sees her muscle-bound hubby on the silver screen giving a villain a whack on the schnozzle. But she might be appalled if Sly were to start his own quest for the perfect loaf. I guarantee he’d have to relax is grip – give up some control, let the process take its course.

But please remember. Be careful you don’t start treating your starter with more care and respect than members of your own family. Take it out of the jar occasionally, dust it with flour and give it a little love slap on the table.

Sly would be proud.

Joe Ortiz, author of “The Village Baker,” wrote and produced a musical inspired by bread and created a musical based on his family story, Escaping Queens, that was a hit at Cabrillo Stage. He and his wife Gayle received the 2016 Gail Rich Award for contributions to the arts in Santa Cruz County.