I Killed the Sourdough Starter

We Started Strong

So, this jar is a tiny bit of a lie. I did indeed start this sourdough starter in 2020 with the sweet contribution of my niece. Then, my beautiful little 6-year-old ray of sunshine named it.

I diligently fed it, measuring the exact grams of perfectly checked to-temp water and organic whole wheat flour. I loved watching the healthy little specimens raise the mixture to double in size. It entirely fulfilled the inner chemist I never became.

I watched videos about how to “do” sourdough, from caring for the starter to the mix and waiting to knead until your knuckles bleed to waiting again, but not too long or too soon. Some people cut out steps with excellent results, and others worked on theirs until the wee morning.

I timed everything and made plans to integrate the timing into my schedule and routine. The challenge was right up my alley since I love a good puzzle to work out.

I even bought all the things, ALL the things.

You know what? I found a lot of success! Ish. And I even liked it. In fact, I really liked it. It felt more primal somehow than just throwing a few ingredients in a bowl, and it turned out relatively well. Sourdough makes you work for it. My family actually liked the bread, too.

I Lied to Myself

Confession: I didn’t change the label on the jar the first time I killed the sourdough starter. I quietly put my two cleaned-out jars away behind the candles in the kitchen.

“I’ll just tuck these jars away until I find some new starter to get going again…”

-Me

Full disclosure: I didn’t necessarily want to give up my beginning starter date.

Many people have such high bragging rights about the age of their starters. I once knew a family who had been passing along their sourdough starter for 30 years! That planted the seeds of this endeavor nearly 25 years ago. I have fantasized about the legacy I might create with my sourdough starter for years.

So, if I found some new starters relatively quickly, the little time gap wouldn’t necessarily need to count. Right? I mean, all starters just become our home signature based on our home microbes, right? So, yeah, the jars can hang out, at least, for now.

I Made Room for You, Sourdough Starter

To my surprise, my sister’s fiance just happened to have some legacy sourdough starter he had nurtured for years and would happily give me.

So, we start again!

Measuring, timing, feeding. Only this time, I found a great life hack, the perfect recipe.

Now, if you don’t know who Zoe Francois and Jeff Hertzberg are, and you want to make the perfect bread without all the steps you find googling the perfect bread, you need to know their work. I still make her big batch dough and tons of other recipes from the book without using sourdough. Please check Zoe out on her website, zoebakes.com, or find the book I use here.

Anyway, I adopted her method of making and refrigerating a big batch of dough. I even integrated my sourdough starter into her perfect recipe.

Bread-making life got pretty good for my family. My kids loved it, my folks loved it, my man especially loved it, and my ass did as well. The regular flow of bread was definitely contributing to my robust shape.

I now had two jars of starter and a five-liter container in my fridge.

The Relationship Started to Get Complicated

All was not fine. Thanksgiving or just a night with many leftovers is a good example.

As the household kitchen manager, there is a never-ending dance of food item fridge placement — constantly rearranging, sorting, and checking.

Whenever I needed to put something in the fridge, gd f%#@ing jars were in the way.

Sometimes, I would even make an overabundance of bread to make room in the refrigerator. Worth it, though, right? For that hot, out-of-the-oven, cast iron baked loaf or pizza dough? Yeah, pretty much. (twitching a little)

There were times of joy, to be sure. And, there were times of obligation. Sometimes, when we become infatuated with a new relationship, it’s hell’s bells out the gate. Then, the novelty wears off some, and love takes a little more effort. Maybe we could see it less and enjoy it when we want to, on our terms.

A little time away from each other?

I looked up other ways to manage sourdough starters, maybe taking a little break from each other. There are legit freezing and even pantry methods. I could totally do that, but I’m going to have to put that research on the back burner with all these other pressing issues like, you know, life.

After all, I would hate to accidentally kill the starter if I didn’t get it right. It’s best to keep going as is, at least for now.

If I Don’t Acknowledge It, It Doesn’t Exist

More weeks began to pass by between maintenance. I started to push the jars farther back. I used the last batch of dough, cleaned out the five-liter container, and shelved it at the top of the pantry.

At the top, where it’s dark, sitting with the dry beans and masa flour. I plan to use it eventually when I find time.

Barely, I rescued the starter a few times, bringing it back from the point of no return.

“What’s a little mold when you’re dealing with fungus anyway? It should be fine. Probably.”

-Me

I went from not taking a few calls to blocking my sourdough starter’s number completely without even giving an explanation.

Things just felt like we had gotten into toxic territory. It was all maintenance, and there was no longer time to do anything fun. Plus, I was gaining weight and overeating when we were together.

I even started putting the tall ketchup and salsa in front of the jars to avoid seeing them. By the way, this was an unprecedented act of passive aggression because I never take those items out of the door space unless I absolutely have to.

I’m not obligated to pay attention to it if I don’t see it. The ultimate sign of a toxic relationship is that we start reverting to child-like tactics.

I Think I Just Needed to Let You Go.

When I finally faced the music yesterday, I saw things were beyond repair. The sourdough starter had turned a dark brown and had black spots and filmy patches on top.

I had read this is probably a terrible sign that the starter should be thrown out. I’m actually sad to see this.

It’s not like I didn’t know deep inside this was coming, though. And clearly, I had taken steps that led to this.

However, it was real now. There was no recovery from this. There would be no more last-minute repairs to the starter and delicious sourdough indulgences a few days later. No secret late-night batches with a glass of wine or big family cast iron skillet deep-dish pizza nights where everyone is singing our praise. At least, not with you, Rainbow Sourdough (number 2).

I needed to do my own thing for a while. Maybe some quick-rise yeast for a little bit. Something I don’t have to commit to so much while I have many other obligations.

A Lighter Load

I feel a little relieved if I’m frank with myself. Like a weight has been lifted. I have a sense of freedom from an obligation that no longer nurtured my soul.

To be clear, I want to honor the joy you brought me and the things you taught me. I won’t forget you borderline toxic sourdough starter.

It does feel better letting this go. Another moment of freeing up space. Sure, it’s just a little thing. But it does slightly lighten the load to drop this one, at least for now.

And who knows, I could use these empty jars temporarily for something else. They are charming, all cleaned out and renewed.

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