Sourdough starter not man-eating monster

If I am afraid of certain things that sometimes appear in my kitchen — such as the… If I am afraid of certain things that sometimes appear in my kitchen — such as the chocolate-chip-covered Oreo cookies — I live in outright terror of the sourdough starter on top of my refrigerator.

Like the Stay Puft marshmallow man from Ghost Busters, I am fairly confident it will rise up and suffocate my entire apartment complex in a gooey mess. I have been repeatedly assured that this is a childish belief, but I’m holding my ground. Nevertheless, we might as well investigate it.

That bread requires yeast is fairly common knowledge, but the fact that some types of bread require live wild yeast is less well-known. Rather than a simple packet of yeast from the grocery store, preparing sourdough requires incorporating a portion of dough from the last batch of sourdough called a starter — meaning that baking sourdough for the first time requires some sort of manipulation of the space-time continuum. How is one supposed to obtain the original starter in the first place?

It’s possible to create one by blending a cup of warm water with a cup of flour and keeping it in a warm place (70 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit). That sounds easy until the part where it has to be fed every 24 hours for days at a time with flour and water until the mixture develops bubbles and a beer-like smell. It’s far more preferable to obtain a starter from someone else.

In the course of my research, I’ve frequently found starter referred to as a “pet,” — a comparison that I, at least, am thoroughly uncomfortable with  — but which is, nevertheless, fairly accurate. It must be fed flour and water, provided with a home in the form of a wide-mouthed glass jar, and when unattended can go on a destructive rampage. The King Arthur Flour website lists 13 steps on reviving and nurturing a starter from various stages of dormancy, bubbliness and pancake batter resemblance — that’s at least as complicated as training a cat to walk on a leash, which I know from experience.

Unlike the simple dynamics of cookies and cupcakes — Step one: Prepare dough or batter, Step two: Bake, Step three: Ta-da! — breads have their own rituals and requirements, alchemy if you will. In the words of QuestionableContent webcomic creator Jeph Jacques, “Baking is science for hungry people.”

Every batch of sourdough is like a snowflake in that it is unique and based on a myriad of conditions — in this instance, everything from refreshment-ingredient ratios and rest times to air temperature, humidity and elevation. The exact same starter my roommate brought back from California yields bread that tastes different when it’s baked in Oakland.

This leads us to the sinister substance that’s always either hibernating in the fridge or recuperating at room temperature for future use. What most sourdough bakers will describe as “astringent” I will tell you smells simply vile. A starter left in the fridge may develop layers of liquid ranging from green to grayish-brown — because of alcohol from the fermenting yeast. This is apparently fine, but pinkish liquid signifies that the wrong sort of bacteria is growing and the concoction must be discarded — is anyone else perturbed by the thought of there being a “right” sort of bacteria present in your baked goods?

You can bake all sorts of things from sourdough pancakes to sourdough pretzels, but bread is — of course — the most popular choice. There is a large number of variations, but I will give you a simple basic recipe. When you are ready to bake, remove the starter from the refrigerator and let it sit somewhere warm for several hours. Measure out two cups of starter — save the rest, this will be your starter for next time — and combine two tablespoons of butter, two teaspoons of salt, and four teaspoons of sugar. The sugar always seems like a strange inclusion to me — but apparently it helps the yeast activate.

Gradually knead in three cups of unbleached flour by hand, with an electric mixer or in a bread machine. Let the dough rise in a warm place — this is hardly an eco-friendly option, but one could leave the oven on and set the dough on top. When the dough has doubled in bulk — by rising — punch it down and knead it a bit more, then form it into a loaf shape. It will need to rise until its mass has doubled again — no one said making bread was a five-minute undertaking. Bake for 30 to 45 minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Let it cool for an hour before slicing … or tear it apart as soon as it comes out of the oven.