on making my own bread starter

An idea i’ve had for some time is finally coming to fruition. I’m going to make my own bread starter. Dude, how daunting is this? I’m feeling a bit mortified.

The boy has been telling me for years now that i ought to make my own starter; and this was all fine and dandy and i usually dismissed the idea because it IS daunting and scary and looming. Kind of like that pie crust thing i finally got over not too long ago. Kind of like that one time when i was scared to go to the bathroom in the Club Charles in Baltimore because the boy’s sister, who worked there for yearsss, told me there was a resident ghost (or two) lurking about back there.

So what sparked me into attempting this now? I was talking bread with one of my coworkers last week. He left the company last Friday, which annoys me only because in all the time i’ve worked here, i never spoke to him about food until he was just about to leave; and then we had these long ass fantastic conversations about recipes and food, and now? He’s gone off to a better job. The fucker.

I can’t remember where i saw it (someplace online), some website describing how to make your own starter with grapes, and how you know when it’s ready because the stench is unimaginable. So i told the boy about that last night, about the stench part, and he just kind of looked at me and informed me that i was to keep this starter in the garage.

And that’s when i broke out The Bread Baker’s Apprentice and read the chapter on starters (no grapes involved, but some stench required).

When i think of starters, i can’t help but remember Anthony Bourdain describing the feeding of the Bitch in Kitchen Confidential. Heh. I hope mine doesn’t evolve into this. I can’t help but associate Bourdain’s “Bitch” with the Sarlacc in Return of the Jedi, the monster desert thing in whose belly one “finds a new definition of pain and suffering as you are slowly digested over a thousand years”. Yeah. Great. Just what i need, a great looming digestive mouth system lurking in the back of my fridge. a snaggle toothed thing screaming, “FEED MEE SEYMOUR!”.

What am i getting myself in to?

I need to do further reading on the subject before i tackle it.


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