From the home of Cheyenne Miller of Faith & Flour Farm
Cheyenne Miller pauses, assessing all eyes facing her. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’re going to wash your hands in the sink to get the sourdough starter off your fingers and not in a soapy bowl of water.” Her brown, bright eyes search the room. I shift in my chair awkwardly. The room remains silent, possibly, like me, giving an honest self-assessment of the odds of clogging one’s drain with sourdough starter, along with all the other things that I could do wrong in the process of making sourdough bread.
Let’s see: I could forget to use bottled water, let my starter come into contact with metal, buy the wrong flour, use the wrong brand of parchment paper, or overproof or underproof my bread. And, do I really have to buy a scale to make sourdough bread? Does sourdough have to be refrigerated overnight, and what do I do if I don’t own a Dutch oven? The list of potential failures seems endless in my mind. So worrying about washing sourdough starter off my hands was not at the top of my list of mistakes I could make at the moment.
Cheyenne continues to search the room, as if passing some form of judgment, and moves on. She isn’t wrong in her assessments, well, at least not from the look on my face. Fear was clearly in every corner of my eyes, standing out against the painted white walls of the Lower Lake Town Hall, filled with chairs and perhaps faces just as overwhelmed as mine. But I don’t know for sure because I am sitting in the back row. I feel like a kid again in class when the teacher asks if we’ve read our homework assignment. Silence is the evidence of the guilty; no, we did not read our assignment. The only solace is knowing everyone else didn’t either because, like me, they too are silent. I’m probably going to wash my hands in the sink instead of a soapy bowl of water, and the look of guilt is clearly written on my face.
But, at the moment, I have an even bigger concern on my mind. And my problem seems to be growing in direct proportion to the length of the class, as I am progressively learning all the things that I can do wrong.
Only minutes before the class started, I spoke with my Blue Zones associate, April, and told her that I was going to write about this in The Bloom, as well as my experience of making bread at home. I was already committed and desperately trying to figure a way out of my predicament, should I attempt to make sourdough bread and fail. I had good cause for my concern because of what and whom I was comparing myself to.
Cheyenne has some of the most beautiful loaves of bread I have ever seen on display. It is art in every way. Have you ever seen something so beautiful that you don’t want to touch it? She has what looks like stalks of wheat etched on her bread, for goodness’ sake. And the loaf next to it smells of cinnamon and pumpkin with nothing less than a cinnamon stick in the center as a display. To say I am intimidated is the understatement of the day. It’s the kind of pressure that causes one to reconsider one’s choice of occupation. Can I truly do this well enough to write about it without making this Blue Zones class a failure because of ME? It’s like throwing around a basketball for fun and then comparing yourself to a pro. Regret of my overenthusiasm at the beginning of this class fills my mind to overflowing. What have I committed myself to?
Cheyenne Miller
But in truth, I know it is a challenge and a fear I want to overcome. In the past, I’ve attempted to make sourdough bread and never once made it to my satisfaction–you know, crisp dark crust and chewy sour flavor beneath. The health benefits are out of this world, which is why sourdough bread is encouraged in Blue Zones, especially for people who are gluten sensitive and looking to add more probiotics to their diet. I am that person. So the pressure is on!
Cheyenne moves on, handling her perfectly proved dough, sliding it onto a flour-dusted cutting board, and noting that one might prefer using olive oil instead of flour to ensure the bread remains truly gluten-free. The room leans forward on cue as she stretches the dough, willing it to spread evenly over the floured surface–a master at her craft. She mentions that this is the stage to add roasted garlic for the round loaf or cinnamon and sugar to get the swirls seen in her pumpkin bread before she begins folding the bread in four opposing directions, as you would an envelope, bringing the last fold over the top of the whole and tucking it neatly around the perfectly formed ball of dough. Then she takes two paper towels to line her empty shaping bowl, gently places the dough on top, and puts the bowl inside a prepared plastic bag.
“Now, all you have to do is keep this in the refrigerator for twelve to forty-eight hours to slow down the fermentation, and further break down the gluten, which gives it that extra sour flavor before baking. See, it’s that simple. Any questions?”
Hands shoot up in every direction. “What can we use if we don’t have a Dutch oven?” asks the lady in front of me. “Will you show us how to score the bread like you do?” Another question in the front row. “How do you keep the bread from sticking when you bake it?” The final question is asked by the person sitting next to me. I don’t dare ask another question because the last one I asked was whether you can use a KitchenAid to make sourdough bread. The answer was yes before other eyes darted back at me. “That’s not the Blue Zones way, Trudy,” two kind faces gently reminded me. I had it coming and should have known better since “moving naturally” is one of the Power Nine Principles I wrote about a year ago. I’m chagrined and also overwhelmed, or, finally, questioned out. Certainly out of words, while I let my thoughts percolate.
Well, I learned all the things I’ve done wrong in the past, so maybe that’s a good start for me. Yes. I agree with myself. What’s the worst that can go wrong? I don’t write the article because my bread turned out to be chicken food. The sun will rise again, and everyone will understand, even April, I reassure myself.
I take just one more tear of the sample bread Cheyenne brought to share with the class and watch as it stretches between my fingers before biting into its crisp outer crust. Mmmmm, perfection. Chewy in the middle and crisp on the outside. It’s delicious in every way possible. And it’s beautiful to look at. I commit to giving this my honest effort, put on a brave face, and pick up my sourdough starter, which Cheyenne so kindly brought from her own home to give to the class.
It’s been about a month now since I’ve taken the class, and here is my honest assessment of the whole sourdough bread experience: It is time-consuming but easily done over a weekend. I’ve made eleven loaves: plain and garlic round loaves, pumpkin loaves, walnut and cranberry loaves, and sandwich bread loaves, but I can’t seem to keep up with the demand in my home. Every loaf is a hit. In truth, I don’t know if I am making my bread right or wrong, but everything is getting eaten, so I take that as a good sign. And when I eat my own bread, I actually feel better (physically) than I did buying store-bought sourdough bread. I don’t know, maybe it’s the love of homemade goodness more than the bread itself.
And, perhaps my even greater takeaway from this class and experience in general is my growing confidence to rise and face my fears. No, maybe not climbing Mount Everest. But what about the little fears I can manage, which can make me feel even better about myself once I overcome them? Yeah, those are the fears I am talking about. And now that I have faced my sourdough bread-making fear, I am curious about what new challenges I will overcome next.
From Trudy’s home: Simple Sandwich Loaf
From Trudy’s home: Pumpkin Spice Swirl Loaf
Here are my personal experiences of dos and don’ts in making sourdough bread.
- Find a recipe that works for you with or without a scale and stick with it.
- Do not use bleached white flour.
- Use bottled water or water you are certain does not contain chlorine.
- Don’t store your starter with a metal lid. A plastic lid or plastic wrap with a rubber band works fine.
- Always keep your dough covered with plastic.
- Yes, twenty-four hours of final proving in the refrigerator makes a difference in flavor.
- If you don’t have a Dutch oven, two bread loaf pans placed on top of each other work fine.
- Tin foil does not count as a cover for baking your bread.
- Take the Blue Zones Sourdough making class the next time it’s offered.
- Enjoy and share with friends.
And in case you were wondering, I have not clogged my drain with sourdough starter yet. Whew, what a relief!
From Trudy’s home: Cranberry Walnut
