Sticky Sourdough and Admitting Defeat

I'm over it.

My daughter started it, bringing home a starter from a friend at work. Two jars of starter later, she admitted defeat. She already works two jobs. I don't know when she thought she was going to bake.

I began buying sourdough instead of regular sandwich bread when I was doing my shopping at Aldi. I had read good things about it's effects on blood glucose levels versus white bread. When I stopped shopping there (the manager embarrassed me when I asked why my pickup order was two hours late, sending my anxiety into overdrive. Just thinking about going in there now causes a break out in hives,) and switched to Walmart, I soon discovered that none of their bread was "true" sourdough. All that I tried contained yeast, which I suppose is to be expected from Wallyworld.

There really should be better regulation of product labeling. I also discovered that none of the bags of stevia, listed stevia as the first ingredient. It's all erythritol.

As I was being fed a constant flow of sourdough baking TikToks and facing those two jars of starter in the fridge, I decided to try making it myself. It's not like I have anywhere to be. The starter was already there. I had everything I needed.

My first attempts weren't bad. They were great on the inside, but the crust was so hard, I thought I'd have to break out my chainsaw.

I don't think I've mentioned my vast assortment of ailments, one of which causes painful muscle spasms with any sort of repetitive motion, like trying to saw into a brick hard loaf of bread.

ChatGPT suggested I adjust the "lid on" cooking time, which would result in a softer crust. I tried it and I definitely had a softer, easier to slice crust, but the bread had a dense, squished, uncooked middle.

By now, there were three jars in the fridge (mine was Doughris Day,) dishes were piling up, fecking dough was stuck to everything and I was getting discouraged. The dough and I weren't on the same schedule. It would peak when I was asleep, the dough would be ready to bake around the time I normally go to bed. I was going to have to start earlier.

Due to the forementioned ailments, I take an variety of medications. Great for sleeping, but waking up? Not so much. I struggle to get the dogs out and the coffee made in the mornings, the brain fog is serious.

The jar of starter I'd taken out of the refrigerator the night before still felt cold and it lacked the bubbliness it needed. I decided to feed it and let it sit a few hours. I opened one of my saved videos for directions. I wanted to get the measurements just right. I placed the new glass (I'd run out of clean jars at this point,) on the scale and added the water.

I looked at the scale. I looked at the video. I paused it, backed it up.

It was the wrong video. I was adding measurements to make a whole loaf. I stood there and stared at the glass, trying to sort out what to do in my clusterfucked mind. I was going to have to either dump it all in the trash or dig out the big bowl and attempt a loaf.

The big bowl had been soaking in hot water because dough remnants are a pain in the keister to wash up. Once clean, I poured the glass of starter and water into the bowl, added flour and started mixing. I could tell right away that something was off. The dough felt dried out, difficult to form. I added a bit more water and tried again. It was a little better.

I left it to rest for an hour. I glanced around at the flour covered counter top, my black stove sprinkled in white dust. My back was done. I walked away to put my feet up for a while. When the hour was up, I hobbled back into the snow covered hellscape that was my kitchen, removed the cover from the bowl to begin my regimen of "stretch and folds."

The dough was neither stretchable nor foldable. It was a clumpy, warm mess. I hung my head, defeated. I dumped it in the trash, not realizing the garbage needed to be emptied. Later, I'd realize it when stepping on the flour covered pedal to pop it open, the lid hesitating from being fused to the trash by demon spawn bread dough.

I texted the offspring and offered a bribe if she'd stop at Aldi on the way home and get bread. She didn't ask questions. I think she knew.

I'm seriously considering opening the kitchen window then borrowing the neighbor's leaf blower to clean up the mess.

If you're looking for me, I'll be in the corner, sewing little squares together.

Ya'll have a good week! We'll talk again soon 💕