It’s been a week since the moment of conception. The flour and water gametes fused a full seven days ago and since then I’ve been feeding, nurturing and growing a starter dough.
It was slow to begin with. Tiny bubbles appearing on the surface and the emulsion like paste beginning to take on a faintly acidic and not unpleasant aroma.
As advised by Harold McGee (not personally) I kept it in the fridge, spooned off half the bubbly mass each day and replenished it with fresh flour and water before putting it back into the cold – a temperature where yeasts can thrive but bacteria cannot.
Only yesterday I neglected to return it to the fridge. After stirring in flour and water I left it on the side whilst I took a seat by the back door to spend a happy half hour plucking the last two game birds of the season.
That’s not a euphemism. They were partridges.
By the time I’d finished, the sourdough had seemingly gained awareness and was unhappy with the restrictive confines of the glass jar…
Bread is but a day away.