I've been a baker all my life, but up until the last few years, I was pretty conventional in that regard. Yeasted breads, cookies made with store-bought chocolate chips, & dairy butter, etc. It was the way I learned when I was a kid in the 70's, and it just kind of stuck with me as being the way baking needed to be done.

However, I'm also super curious about everything and love to learn, so it was inevitable that, at some point, the art of fermentation would enter my world. I had dabbled with the concept a few times over the years (Amish Friendship Cake in the 80's, multiple failed attempts at sourdough starters in the 90's, etc.), but it wasn't until my mom gave me a kombucha starter kit for my birthday a few years ago that I really began to understand how microbes work (in food), and the more I learned, the more fascinated I became. I made the kombucha, and then I made tepache. Then I started making sodas from juniper berries and pine needles. Somewhere in there, it dawned on me that sourdough was also a ferment (duh), and all bets were off. I was determined to figure out the sourdough thing. I mean honestly, how hard could it be? Looking back on my naivety is, I have to admit, pretty amusing.

Breads leavened with commercial yeast are fairly easy. Rise times are reasonably predictable, and you know what to expect once you stick them in the oven. A few hours from start to finish, and - BAM - you have bread.

But sourdough? Oh, hell no.

Sourdough baking is like a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. It is baffling, complex, and the epitome of simplicity*, all at the same time. It took me quite a while to begin to understand why this is - and brace yourself - I think its because sourdough ferment is literally an independent, intelligent life form. The first time that this realization crept into my thoughts, I chastised myself for being silly. Afterall, my Booch (kombucha) is dependent upon a life form to ferment, and it doesn't act all crazy. Granted, if the temperature is outside of its preferred range or the tea to sugar ratio isn't quite right, it affects the brew, but in a predictable way. Booch behaves a lot like yeast bread - its happy as long as you give it what it needs, and if you alter that slightly, its easy to know how those variables will affect the outcome. It's generous of spirit and very forgiving.

To put it another way - Booch is like a Golden Retriever - calm, dependable, and easy to please. It graciously accepts what you provide it, and doesn't complain unless it encounters severe neglect. You can leave Booch in a jar, forgotten for months (or years), and as long as it doesn't dry out or freeze, it will eagerly go back to work with just a little encouragement.

Sourdough ferment, on the other hand, is like a Siamese cat - demanding (but fiercely independent), aloof (but clingy), with a tendency to form deep emotional attachments to its keeper, and an inclination to resort to being destructive if displeased.

Don't believe me? Ask any experienced sourdough baker what happens if their ferment is not happy. Your bread will suffer the consequences, I can assure you.

So why voluntarily subject yourself to such things?

For some, its an accident - they didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they Frankensteined their little monster, and they struggle to cohabitate peacefully with the beast. What seemed like a good idea at the time proves to just be too much, and they give up (and I don't blame these folks - its a very reasonable thing to do).

Others press on, but its a constant struggle, fraught with frustration. They're determined to make the whole sourdough thing work, but can't get a bead on why they produce beautiful loaves one day and disastrous, gummy bricks the next. I see countless posts across multiple platforms with the same anguished "What am I doing wrong???" question, and trust me, I truly feel their pain.

Then there are some who are bona fide "sourdough whisperers". These folks are the magicians and wizards of the sourdough community. They just seem to "know" what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, and they live in a somewhat utopic state of symbiosis with their ferments (or at least that's how it looks to the rest of us).

I fall somewhere in between the strugglers and the whisperers. I've begun to understand my ferment on a personal level (her name is Audrey, but I usually just refer to her as "Auds"), and I feel a strong bond with her, but I'm still wary of her ability to wreak havoc if I don't hold up my end of the bargain, especially now, since I am depending on her to make this micro bakery possible. I know that she thrives on a set schedule and will rebel if that is altered. I know that she is happiest being a thick, strong girl instead of a thin, wispy waif (yes, we ran the gamut of proportions and viscosities to see what she liked best, and it took months of effort). I know that she responds to attention (don't judge), because even during her "resting periods" in the fridge, she will expand when talked to and will remain still and flat when ignored (yes, another experiment - we do a lot of that kind of thing). I know that she couldn't care less at what point the salt is added when making dough (some ferments recoil from salt like garden slugs), and I know that she will climb out of the damned jar - even while in the fridge, with clips holding down the lid - if I am late feeding her.

It may seem to some that I am creeping into anthropomorphic tendencies with my ferment, but I can assure you that this is not the case. The boundary of attributing any human characteristics to Auds is limited to using common language to describe what I observe. I'm not attributing; I'm just describing. Audrey is not a person, but she is a being, and I can only explain her "behavior" with the limited vocabulary available to me. And the reason I do so is NOT because I view her as a "pet" or something that I own. My observations of her and my subsequent actions in response to those behaviors are based wholly in respect and awe of her as an independent, living organism and understanding what she needs to be healthy and happy.

Sounds extremist and nutty? Maybe, but you do you, and I'll do me. There are worse habits than exploring the possibility that non-human organisms can be sentient and intelligent, especially when you are asking them to work alongside you to provide food for the table.

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*A note on the whole "sourdough is simple" thing -

For the "I don't measure anything or follow any rules because our ancestors didn't have digital scales or proofing boxes, and they made bread all the time" crowd - our ancestors weren't bread snobs who shamed the shit out of everyone else's crumb pics on Facebook, either. 2,000 years ago, bread was for survival. If you REALLY think that Cleopatra's kitchen staff turned out loaves with a perfect ear, delicately browned crust and a light and airy crumb, you need a reality check. Most of those loaves were probably comparable to a brick. We use the knowledge and tools that we have today because they IMPROVE our bread game. It's called evolution, and you should try it sometime.