I have had a really, really busy week. It started with a hen do, progressed into the first week of my second year of teaching, combined with making a three-tier medieval castle wedding cake, and ended with an 18 hour return journey to Northumberland to see one of my best friends get married. I am knackered.
However, somewhere in between tha late nights, the confetti throwing and the many many hours in the car I was given a large jar full our sourdough starter. On my way to the wedding I stayed with the parents of Dave (offof who I went to Uni with) and for breakfast we had the most delicious sourdough bread. Probably the best bread I had ever had in my life. We stopped back in to the same house on the way home, and Dave’s Dad handed over a jar of his homegrown sourdough starter – raised from grapes that he had grown in his greenhouse. Best gift ever? I feel like I have become part of an exclusive club of bakers. I feel like I have joined a special culture (haha) of slightly eccentric people who are obsessed with feeding and looking a bowl of white paste in the fridge. I feel very privileged to have been given such a personal gift from someone I had just met. I feel like I may have killed the starter already and am very concerned.
Having arrived back from Northumberland at about 10pm last night, I did not look up how to look after my starter and therefore did not feed it. Having just read on the internet that I must feed it twice a day or it will DIE, this cannot be good. It has been under a period of starvation for approximately 36 hours. I am typing this as I sit in my living room carefully nursing my recently fed sourdough starter like it is some childhood puppy on its death-bed.
Please feel free to pray for my sourdough starter. I will let you know if it makes it through the night, it could go either way…..