DIY Sourdough Starter: "Feeding Your Starter (The Baby)"

The closest I've come to owning a pet in my adult life was the year I spent in charge of my college co-op's larger-than-life, three-pound sourdough mother (lovingly referred to as "the baby"). Despite several near-death experiences (affixing the lid too tightly on a hot day, accidental overuse by a well-meaning baker), I managed to keep that sucker alive, even as I balanced a full schedule of academic responsibilities and collegiate frivolities. However, once I struck out on my own to the great state of California—king of the sourdough empire!—I killed starter after starter as I tried cultivate a more modest, family-sized portion. When I found out that my fellow former co-oper, Jasper, had multiple starters thriving in his household of two, I knew I had to learn his tricks! And once I learned them, I knew I had to share them with you lovely readers. He has agreed to unveil the mysteries of the sourdough, and you're in great luck! He's not only a connoisseur of fermentation, but a gifted writer, to boot. 

Jasper lists great resources for starting your own sourdough "baby" from scratch, but if you're not ready to take the full plunge, reach out to your local community! Sourdough parents must discard a portion of their starters every day and are more often than not delighted to share. If you're lucky enough to live in the Bay Area, you have access to the crème de la crème of sourdough starters: ACME Bread Company in North Berkeley generously shares their surplus for free after daily feedings. Just call ahead to check on availability and bring your own lidded, airtight container!

Without further ado, the sourdough secrets of Jasper N Henderson:

The miracle of fermentation underwrites the cow, the wine, the pickle — but nowhere is it more dramatically on display than in the loaf of sourdough, formerly a gummy mess of gluten transformed by strategic folds and high temperature but mainly by a grand symphony of wild yeasts and bacteria. Only so, with the byproducts of this feast — chief among them alcohol and carbon dioxide — does bread achieve loft, an open crumb, and a bouquet of flavors worthy of a sommelier.

The key to great naturally-leavened breads (that is, breads risen not by industrial strains of yeast or by steam but by wild yeast and bacteria) is a well-trained and predictable starter. You train a starter by feeding it a regular meal on a regular schedule.

When I’m baking bread regularly I like to feed my starter morning and evening, about 12 hours apart without being too compulsive. It takes five minutes to feed the starter, and it makes some of the best bread I’ve ever tasted. I like to feed it half water, half flour. In baker’s terms, I have a 100% hydration starter, with 50% whole wheat flour and 50% white bread flour.

My method is adapted from Chad Robertson’s Tartine Bread Book and the invaluable blog Girl Meets Rye. I heartily recommend both resources for recipes and techniques. If you don’t have access to a starter or you want to start your own from scratch (the route I took), look at GMR’s “Rye Starter in 9 Days.” (I prefer a 50/50 white/whole wheat starter, but GMR’s 100% rye starter is perfectly valid and perhaps even more foolproof than my starter.)

Step one: Mise en place

Assemble before you

• A digital gram scale,
• Room temperature water in a spouted pot or cup,
• A glass jar with a lid for your starter,
• A sharpie,
• Two dinner spoons and a bowl for discarded starter,
• A 50/50 blend of whole wheat flour and white bread flour.

Step two: Weigh your vessel

Place the empty jar on the scale. Write its weight in grams on the jar in big numerals so you won’t forget it. Leave the jar on the scale.

Step three: Add starter

Place 20g of starter in your jar. If your scale formerly read 140g (which you wrote on the side of the jar) it should now read 160g.

Step four: Feed starter

Spoon 20g of flour into the jar, then gently pour in 20g of water. (If your jar weighs 140g, the scale should now read 200g.)

Step five: Mix thoroughly

Make a smooth paste of the flour, water, and starter. Spread it on the bottom of the jar, making sure there are no big air bubbles in it and scraping as much as you can off the sides. Draw a line on the jar at the top of the paste — this way you'll be able to see how far it rises.

Step six: Affix the lid and wait twelve hours

Within the next 2-4 hours the mixture will bubble up and then as more of the gluten is digested it will fall back on itself. As you feed your starter regularly, the action of this fermentation should become more vigorous and predictable.

Step seven: Discard part of starter and feed again

Once twelve hours (or so) have passed, open the jar and smell your starter. It should smell fruity, slightly alcoholic, and a little sour. With the jar on the scale, use a dinner spoon to remove 40g of the starter into the bowl, leaving only 20g in the jar. (If you’ve written 140 on the side of your jar, the scale should now read 160g.) Now return to step four and feed.

Alas, due to time constraints, we used a store-bought sourdough loaf for the shoot. I promise you Jasper's loaves are far more beautiful... and yours will be, too!

Notes:

• If your recipe calls for more than 40g of starter (the amount that you normally discard in a feeding), build up the amount of starter in your jar by not discarding any starter and then feeding it 60g of water and 60g of the 50/50 flour blend. You will now have 180g of starter, and if you need even more you can once again not discard and build it to 540g. This can be accomplished in twenty-four hours, although you will probably need a bigger vessel!
• I recommend moving the starter to a clean jar once every month or two, but don’t worry if some flour residue gets caked onto the sides.
• I often will feed my starter only once a day, but up it to two or even three times per day a few days before I start making my bread in order to maximize the lift given by my leaven.
• Have fun! It's not a science but more of a relationship with a living thing. In our co-op in college, Ty was in charge of feeding the "baby," and she taught me how strange a relationship you can have with one of these colonies of starch-eating yeast and bacteria. It's the best kind of a pet/baby/tool/colony — one that helps you make delicious bread.