I generally avoid overly fussy recipes because they are, well… overly fussy. Sourdough is not fussy. Really. Trust me.Continue reading Kalamata Olive & Rosemary Sourdough Bread
It was late in the evening. I was tired. I’d had a whole half-glass of wine (yes, a HALF glass). It turned out to be a bad combination for successfully doing math. Who’d have thought it?
I live in California’s raisin country. If one drives out of town during the hot, dry days at the end of summer, row after row of grapes drying on mats can be seen in between the long stretches of grape vines. I guess you could say I know where my food comes from!
So tell me, does anyone else look at their sourdough starter and yell in a mad scientist type voice “IT’S ALIVE!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” or is it just me?
My dad grew up on homemade bread. Even though my grandparents could have easily bought bread from the store, my grandma chose to bake her own. Definitely a Depression Era survivor. I remember eating sandwiches made from that delicious bread when I was younger. She would even occasionally save the heels, break them into small pieces, then let them dry out. These would become tidbits that we would take to a local park to feed the geese and ducks with. One of those geese once decided to show its appreciation by biting me in the butt. You know, roast goose makes a lovely Christmas feast.
When I decided to experiment with making sourdough bread, I started looking up information on making the “starter” cultures that were needed for the dough. Time and again, the recipes and instructions I found had you start with large quantities of flour and water, then after allowing it to sit and ferment, take all but a small amount and, get this, THROW. THE. REST. AWAY. The reason for this last step was because you would need to add more flour and water at regular periods and so if you didn’t throw some out, you would eventually have a monster bowl of sourdough starter.