53. A Jar That Needs Feeding Like a Pet

Anton: Look at this jar. Plain glass, a loose lid, a rubber band round its middle. Inside, a grey-brown paste full of tiny holes, like the face of a sponge, and a smell like apples and yogurt. It is older than everyone at this table except me.

Vera: And it is alive.

Anton: It is. Tonight we start one of our own.

The Larder Shelf

Vera: Xavi, kneeling on the chair nearest the larder, wants to know why we cannot just use yeast from a packet, the way we have all day.

Anton: We could. But for most of history there were no packets. Bakers in every land, from the rye villages of the north to the wheat plains of the south, kept a little of each day's dough to start the next. A starter is that same idea, kept in a jar.

Vera: How long does it take?

Anton: About a week, sometimes ten days. It is a jar that needs feeding like a pet, once a day, and like a pet it will sulk if you forget.

At the Work Table

For one jar of starter, about 150 g, ready in seven to ten days: whole-grain rye or whole-wheat flour, 50 g (about 6 tablespoons) a day; lukewarm water, 50 ml (3 1/2 tablespoons) a day; a clean glass jar holding about 1 litre, a rubber band and a spoon. No oven.

Vera: Day one: a child stirs 50 g flour and 50 ml lukewarm water in the jar into a thick paste, scrapes down the sides, sets the lid on loosely and puts the rubber band at the top of the paste. Use lukewarm water, never hot.

Anton: Keep the jar somewhere warm, about 24 to 26°C (75 to 79°F), out of the sun; a shelf near the stove is often right.

Vera: Day two: stir, then add 50 g flour and 50 ml water. You may see nothing yet. Wait.

Anton: From day three: scoop out all but about 50 g, three heaped tablespoons, into a bowl. That is the discard. Then feed the jar 50 g flour and 50 ml water, stir and move the band.

Vera: Around days three to five it may bubble wildly and then go quiet. That is normal. Keep feeding.

Anton: It is ready when it doubles within four to eight hours of feeding, is full of bubbles and smells pleasantly sour. Then keep it in the fridge and feed it once a week.

Vera: A grown-up looks at it every day. Grey liquid on top only means it is hungry; pour it off and feed. Pink or orange streaks, or fuzzy mould, mean throw it all away, wash the jar and start again.

The Last House in the Lane

Vera: When I married, an old woman called Zelda gave me a cup of her starter. She lived in the last house of our lane, where the cobbles ran out into mud and a goat was always tied to her fence, and she said the starter had been in her family longer than the house.

Vera: I killed it in a month. I forgot it behind the bread bin, and when I found it, it had grown a green fur coat. I was too ashamed to tell her. When I finally did, she laughed, scooped me another cup and said, everyone kills the first one. Feed the second.

Ten o'Clock, the Jar Marked

Question: Xavi asks where the yeast comes from, if we never put any in.

Answer: Wild yeasts and friendly bacteria live on grain, in flour and in the air of every kitchen. Given flour, water and warmth, they multiply. The yeasts make the bubbles; the bacteria make the sour taste.

Three quick questions. One: How much flour do you feed each day? Two: What does grey liquid on top mean? Three: How do you know the starter is ready?

Answers. One: 50 g. Two: It is hungry. Three: It doubles within four to eight hours of feeding.

Vera: Xavi has written his name on a strip of paper and taped it to the jar. He says it is his pet now, and he will visit it every morning before school.

Anton: Then he must name it. Every starter I have known had a name. A starter wakes the way a pond wakes in spring: a bubble here, a bubble there, and then one morning it is full of life.

Vera: And to go with a quiet evening job, a cup of warm roasted barley tea, the same toasty grain tea we poured on the first morning. No leaves in it at all, so even Xavi can have a cup before bed.

Key Words

Sourdough starter: a living mix of flour and water, full of wild yeasts and friendly bacteria, that makes bread rise instead of bought yeast.

Feeding: giving a starter fresh flour and water so that its yeasts stay lively.

Discard: the part of a starter scooped out before each feeding, which can go into pancakes and batters.

54. A Flat Loaf Still Feeds a Hungry Man

Vera: Yannick has carried Anton's old starter jar to the table with both hands, as carefully as a bird's nest, and set it down beside the scales. The rubber band is far below the top of the bubbles. It has doubled since supper. He says it is ready, and he is right.

Anton: Then tonight we bake with nothing but flour, water, salt and that jar.

Beside the Scales

Vera: I will be honest. I am afraid of this one.

Anton: Everybody is, the first time. A sourdough loaf takes two days and most of that time you do nothing at all. The hard part is waiting without poking it.

Vera: No kneading?

Anton: Folding instead, as we did with the dimpled flatbread at noon. Every half hour, four times, and the wet heap turns into something that holds its shape.

At the Work Table

For one round loaf, about twelve slices: 100 g lively starter, fed four to eight hours before (1/2 cup), 350 ml lukewarm water (1 1/2 cups), 450 g bread flour (3 2/3 cups), 50 g whole-wheat flour (1/2 cup) and 10 g salt (1 3/4 teaspoons).

A proving basket or a bowl lined with a well-floured cloth, and a heavy lidded pot. Oven: 250°C (480°F), then 230°C (450°F).

Vera: A child stirs the starter into the water, adds both flours and mixes until no dry flour is left. Cover and rest for thirty minutes.

Anton: Sprinkle on the salt with a splash of water and squeeze it in with wet hands.

Vera: Every thirty minutes, four times, a child wets a hand, lifts one side of the dough, stretches it up and folds it over, then turns the bowl and does the other three sides.

Anton: Leave it covered until it is about half as big again, domed and bubbly. This is the bulk rise. In a warm kitchen this takes three hours; in a cool one, six.

Vera: Tip it onto a lightly floured table, fold the edges into the middle, turn it over and pull it towards you to tighten it into a ball. Set it smooth side down in the basket, cover and put it in the fridge for eight to fourteen hours.

Anton: Next day, a grown-up heats the empty pot, lid on, in the oven at 250°C (480°F) for forty-five minutes.

Vera: A grown-up turns the cold loaf out onto baking paper, cuts one slash 1 cm (1/2 inch) deep with a very sharp blade, and with oven gloves lowers it into the pot and puts the lid on. Children well back.

Anton: Bake twenty minutes with the lid on, then lid off at 230°C (450°F) for twenty to twenty-five minutes, until deep brown. Cool for two hours before cutting.

A Bakery on a Bridge

Anton: I baked my first sourdough loaf as a young baker for Wolfram, whose bakery stood on a stone bridge over a fast green river in a mountain valley, so that the whole building hummed with the water underneath.

Anton: It came out flat as a plate. I wanted to throw it in the river. Wolfram took it from me, cut a thick slice, buttered it and ate it slowly at the window, looking at the mountains. Then he said, a flat loaf still feeds a hungry man. Now do it again.

Anton: The second one rose. I have never forgotten either of them, and I still eat the flat ones slowly, by a window.

Late Night, the Basket in the Cold

Question: Yannick asks why the shaped loaf goes into the fridge instead of straight into the oven.

Answer: Cold slows the yeast so the loaf can wait until the next day without rising too far. The long cold rest deepens the sour taste, and a cold, firm loaf is easier to turn out and to cut cleanly.

Three quick questions. One: How many times do you fold the dough? Two: Where does the shaped loaf spend the night? Three: How long must it cool?

Answers. One: Four times, every thirty minutes. Two: In the fridge, in its basket. Three: Two hours.

Vera: It is in the basket, under a cloth, in the cold. Now we do nothing. Nothing at all.

Anton: Like a field under snow. Everything is happening, and none of it can be seen.

Vera: Then Yannick feeds the jar before bed, so it will be lively again, and we go to sleep too.

Key Words

Bulk rise: the long first rise of a whole batch of dough, before it is divided or shaped.

Proving basket: a round or oval basket, dusted with flour, that holds a soft shaped loaf while it rises so it keeps its shape.

Lively starter: a starter at its best, a few hours after feeding, domed and full of bubbles, ready to raise a loaf.