My great sourdough experiment. In retrospect, I should have known better.

Well, hellloooo there, awesome readers!

Have you heard about the sourdough craze? In case you’ve been blissfully unaware, it’s not just about baking bread. It’s a needy (see what I did there?), bubbling pet that takes up permanent residence on your kitchen counter. Yes, you read that right. A pet made of flour that you have to feed EVERY SINGLE DAY. It’s like some kind of carb-loaded Tamagotchi.

My introduction to this kitchen lab experiment happened in two phases. The first phase started with an innocent conversation about sourdough bread. Not that I was TOTALLY unaware of sourdough bread. I just didn’t know that… Okay, let me give you context by making a short story long.

I was in a meeting with a client and getting slightly off topic, she mentioned – let me rephrase that, she ENTHUSIASTICALLY mentioned – that she had recently stumbled on a “fantastic little bakery” in Pointe Claire Village.

“They make the best sourdough bread,” she said. “And sourdough is the only bread I eat. It’s the only bread anyone should eat.”

As you can imagine, her emphasis on the words “only” and “anyone” piqued my curiosity.

“The ONLY bread? Really? Why?”

(Asking this question may have been my first mistake.)

“Because it’s healthy,” she said as though I should know this. “It’s good for gut health.”

Again, with emphasizing her words.

This is the part where I’d like to point out that I’m not a COMPLETE neanderthal. I have read the headlines about the importance of a “healthy gut.” I see the ads for probiotic supplements. I understand that there’s an ecosystem that goes on in our bellies.

But I’ll tell you what I DID NOT know. I didn’t know that sourdough is healthy. And I especially didn’t know that since it’s the grand poohbah of all breads (according to my client) it’s the ONLY bread we need in our diets.

Eventually my client and I went back to talking about her life story and why she needed a ghostwriter to help write her memoir, but the conversation stuck in my head. I had unanswered questions.

The second phase of my kitchen lab experiment is where I really shine. * cough *

It all started when a client – another client – brought me a homemade lemon muffin. Thinking back on that day, it was probably the best muffin I’d ever had.

“And it’s healthier than other muffins because I made it with my sourdough starter.”

(Again, with the emphasis on healthy. What is it with my clients and eating healthy?)

“Sourdough starter?” I asked. I could feel those unanswered questions I mentioned earlier stirring. Suddenly, they were being revived from a forgotten corner of my brain.

That’s when my client proceeded to give me a mini course on sourdough. It was interesting and what I found most fascinating was that her strain of sourdough starter was over 150 years old.

“Wow! That’s impressive. It doesn’t get moldy?” A fair question, I thought.

“No. But you do have to feed it every day.”

“Feed it? Feed it what?”

“Flour. Do you want me to bring you some?”

“Sure,” I said. “I usually make muffins from a mix. This will be healthier.”

Apparently, thinking “healthy” is contagious.

Before I continue, let me just say that my second mistake was in thinking that I can take care of sourdough. Jed (my dog), I can take care of. Feed him. Water him. Love him. Let him out eleventy thousand times a day. Easy peasy.

But taking care of sourdough? Well, that’s a completely different kind of pet. And let me tell you how that went.

The day this client brought me the sourdough starter was an exciting one. I had my very own 150-year-old sourdough starter. I felt like I was being given a little piece of history. Not that I know A LOT about history, but the past does fascinate me. (Mentioning this in case Mr. Melnyk is reading this. Mr. Melnyk was my high school history teacher.)

“Here,” my client said as she handed me a piece of paper with meticulously hand-written instructions. “These are the steps. Oh! And you have to name it.”

The name Van Leeuwen immediately popped into my mind. My sourdough starter had practically named itself. Now let’s see if it can take care of itself, I thought.

Almost a week later, my client asked how Van Leeuwen was doing.

“I think I’m killing it,” I answered. He doesn’t bubble and expand like your instructions say he should and there’s a layer of suspicious looking mold growing on it.

“Nah, it’s hard to kill. And sounds like it’s just hungry. Are you measuring?”

“Measuring?” I asked. Clearly this client and I are not friends on Facebook and she has not seen any of my #kitchenfails. Nor had she read about the time that I tried to make bread from scratch.

To shorten my long story, it turns out I was doing EVERYTHING wrong. And yes, I did manage to kill Van Leeuwen. But I’ll say this, he really was rooting for me because it took about a month for him to admit that he was indeed, well, dead.

When I finally confessed this to my client, she brought me another attempt (bless her optimistic heart). Van Leeuwen II, who is still sitting in my fridge as I write this, is also holding on to his last attempts at hopefully making it into some delicious muffins. Who knew that leaving some flour and water in a jar could be so damn… challenging.

Meanwhile, and don’t judge me, my kitchen is no longer a bread lab because I’ve gone back to making muffins the good old fashion way: with a mix where I just need to add water.

So, what have I learned from my great sourdough experiment? Well, I now know more about gluten development than I ever thought possible. I’ve discovered that patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s a REQUIREMENT when dealing with sourdough. And most importantly, I’ve realized that it’s entirely possible to be overly enthusiastic about fermented flour and water.

As for Van Leeuwen II, still clinging to life in my fridge? He’s become a sort of kitchen mascot – a reminder that sometimes, it’s okay to admit defeat and embrace the convenience of modern baking.

So, here’s to you, Van Leeuwen II, may you rest in yeasty peace while I enjoy my just-add-water muffins. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to try again. But for now, I think I’ll stick to pets that don’t require daily feedings of flour. Jed agrees – he’s much easier to keep alive, and he’s a lot more cuddly than a jar of bubbling goop.

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Mona Andrei is an award-winning humour blogger and author known for her entertaining perspective on life’s quirks. In her most recent book, SUPERWOMAN: A Funny and Reflective Look at Single Motherhood, she shares a personal journey filled with challenges and triumphs, intertwining stories and insights from single mothers around the globe.