Inspired half by Michael Pollan and half by creative procrastination, I’ve started making sourdough bread. Like most obsessions, it started out as an every-day fixation, and has since tapered off to once a week. I gotta say, it’s 100% guaranteed to be more popular than that bottle of TJ’s sparkling rose at your next social event or potluck. Especially if you bring it still warm. Get ready for all the pats on backs. Even in Los Angeles, where gluten has become equivalent to processed cheese in food pariah status, no one can resist.

I am partial to Breadtopia’s adaptation of Sam Sifton’s adaptation of Mark Bittman’s adaptation of Jim Lahey’s no-knead recipe. Lol. Here are some pictures! My starter recipe was from The Kitchn. All of this was not a ton of work.

The starter was more fun than you’d think. It was like watching sea-monkeys come alive, except the little yeasties ruminating in your starter are SURVIVORS. Magic little alien beings that chew through sugars and fart out carbon dioxide that blooms up dough like a mushroom cloud of delicious. I know it makes me an insufferable hipster, but I’ll wear that badge proudly as long as it means I think fermenting things is cool AF.

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