Hellobee

Way back when Mr. T and I were first married, we lived in this little tiny house in town. It is still known affectionately as, “the blue house.” Ellie’s room didn’t even have a door, just a curtain we put up to make it a little more private for her. We had an old, old electric oven. No dishwasher (unless Ellie and I count). But considering the smallness of the space, and the lack of… amenities, we were very happy there. And that’s where my sourdough starter started. In that tiny house with the tiny kitchen.

One of my little luxuries in life is my Cuisine at Home magazine subscription. Mr. T refers to it as, “food porn.” It totally is. There is nothing more wonderful to me than looking at all the delicious things waltzing across the pages in full color and daydreaming about putting them on our table. Mr. T likes to read it, too, and will say, “Hey, that looks good. You should make it,” for every single item in the magazine. Every single one. Bonus points if it’s especially time-consuming and fussy to make. Those are the recipes I find little post it flags and hearts next to (um… Mr. T, I am looking at you). So when he ran into a recipe for sourdough rolls and commented on how much he loved sourdough, I gave myself a mission: I would learn to make it. The first time I made sourdough it was lackluster. My starter was a wild starter that was yet but a baby. My technique was very non-techniquey. I thought back to one time when I ate at an Atlanta Bread Company and had soup in this giant bowl made out of a loaf of sourdough, and even when I subtracted the soup flavor I still didn’t think it tasted anything like sourdough. Assuming that the monstrosity they served my soup in really was sourdough. But I’m pretty sure it was. Anyhow, it was yummy.

The people (I assume it’s people) who sit around somewhere in a little office or hole in the ground or whatever and police your personal tastes and buying preferences, and then send you catalogs and e-mails and flyers tailored to make you buy more stuff you don’t really need had decided that I would really like to start getting the King Arthur Flour catalog. Jerks. Because every page was full of stuff that I needed wanted.  They had sourdough starter. In an adorable little crock. And I don’t even want to make them sound bad because… I ordered it. Okay, fine, I’ll speak up: I ordered the darn thing. Cute little crock and all. And it is fabulous. And when Mr. T accidentally broke the lid one day while trying to clean the little crusties off the outside he had to make it up to me for a month.

You’re probably wondering where I find the time to make bread considering our current home situation. First, thanks for checking in. Yes, things are somewhat better. Second, the more important part of the equation, far more important, so listen closely, is that I eat the bread. It’s good. It might even be keeping me slightly sane. More importantly, the process keeps me sane. There is something so calming about engaging in a ritual that goes back so far in time. The sameness, the process, the smell.

The girls flit in and out of the routine like little sprites. They both can name the tools (lame, starter, Danish dough whisk, proofing bucket), and have an easy familiarity with the process. I hope that, looking back on childhood, these are memories that will feed their hearts—there’s nothing I love more than sharing moments doing what I love with my girls. Sometimes they want to knead the dough and shape the loaves, sometimes they prefer to watch. Lorelei likes to smell everything. Her nose wrinkles at the sharp smell of the starter, and inhales deeply when she comes into a room overwhelmed by the smell of baking bread. Ellie is all eyes, and prefers to talk to me while I work. I get the pleasure of hearing about her school, her friends. Something about the process seems to make her conversation more free and easy, and we can pass the time happily in one another’s company.

This is a process that will last for two days. On day one, you will feed your starter in the morning, make up your dough at bedtime, and let it rest in the fridge overnight. On day two, you will shape the dough into two loaves, allow the loaves to rise, and bake your bread. While this sounds awfully time consuming, you will find that this process fits neatly into whatever nooks and crannies you have available in your time, requiring quite little in the way of hands-on work. This recipe will yield two 9” x 5” loaves of bread.

Day one, morning: feed your sourdough starter.

Day one, evening: make your dough

Ingredients

• 12.75 oz “fed” sourdough starter
• 18 oz lukewarm water
• 1 tsp. yeast
• 3.5 tsp. salt
• 1.5 T. sugar<
• 32 and 7/8 oz (2lb 7/8 oz) all-purpose flour

1) Combine all ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer. Using the paddle attachment, mix on low speed until all ingredients come together.

2) Switch to the dough hook attachment. Mix at medium-low speed for 6 minutes, until the dough registers approximately 80 F.

2) Place the dough in an oiled container to rise overnight in the refrigerator.

On day two: Remove the dough from the refrigerator.

1) Gently divide the dough in half.

2) Gently shape the dough into two loaves, and place them in two lightly greased 9″ x 5″ loaf pans. Cover and let rise until very puffy, about 2 to 4 hours. If at any time you need to buy yourself a little more time, you can place the loaves in the refrigerator. The cooler temperature will slow the rise– which can be very useful if you have errands to run or little people to chase. With practice, you’ll learn how to get the timing so that all your work is done when it is most convenient to you. Towards the end of the rising time, preheat the oven to 425°F.

7) Spray the loaves with lukewarm water.

8) Make one fairly deep horizontal slash in each; a serrated bread knife, wielded firmly, works well here. Or you can use a lame, similar to this one.

9) Bake the bread for 25 to 30 minutes, until it’s a very deep golden brown and registers 190 F in the center. Remove it from the oven, and cool on a rack.