My Love Letter to Sourdough

Dear Sourdough,

Thank you for being so soothing. I don't know what it is about you. I think it might be a little bit how mysterious you are... the fact that I caught your yeast in my living room... such an odd science-project gone right!

Maybe you soothe me because you are so unlike the rest of my life. You are slow. You are unpredictable. You are hearty.

You are so forgiving. You aren't fussy or demanding that I follow specific instructions about how much flour or water I add to you. And in dough form, while rising, you don't seem to mind that I sometimes forget about you. You always turn out pretty much the same!

Maybe it's because you are essentially for me. No one else in this family loves you like I do. They tolerate you. But I adore you. I love how you smell when I'm kneading you. I love how you feel... how you transform beneath my fingers from a sticky glob to a soft squishy ball of dough. I love how you puff up while you rise on the shelf over my heater. I love how you smell while you're baking. I love how you taste.

I think you are magnificent!

There is something about you, dear Sourdough, that I just can't do without.

You are steadfast. I can't believe you have survived so many seasons of neglect on my part! I thought I had surely killed you numerous times... but here you are, two years later, still bubbly and tangy and always at the ready when I get a hankering for fresh homemade bread.

I live in Germany, the land of great bread. They practically give away the stuff. It's so cheap and yummy and convenient. But I still need you sometimes.

You soothe me. You nourish me. You remind me to slow down. I love that about you!

So thanks again Sourdough. Thanks.

Love,
Jessica