Hello, my fellow bluestockings!
Thanks so much for being here. Today I’m sharing some reflections about sourdough (I know, I know), followed by a brief catalogue of things that have brought me delight & ease recently.
At the beginning of quarantine, I jumped on the bread-making train. One of my favorite Instagram accounts, @thekitchn, started a week-long sourdough challenge and I got sucked in. I’ve made bread before, but never from a starter. A friend who knew about my sourdough obsession sent me this insightful meme:
Despite this meme’s insistence to the contrary, sourdough baking has provided me a tactile way to be, a practice that invites patience, presence, and trust.
Instagram’s sourdough bakers all reinforced this common theme: although there are certain rules, sourdough success largely relies on instinct & intuition. I am a highly intuitive person - I always have been, although I didn’t always know how to listen to my intuition. At the same time, I am someone who likes to do my research and check the boxes and do things The Right Way*. This perfectionism can impede my intuition, but the process of making sourdough reminds me that even when I think I’ve checked every box, done everything “right,” it still sometimes flops. In sourdough - like in life - variables abound, and more variables are out of my control than in it. The lesson? To let go. To trust my intuition. To allow the process be whatever it is.
Kneading bread dough is like a masterclass in letting go. When I feel stuck and frustrated, kneading bread dough provides a cathartic release. Kneading forces me to concentrate, to push my strength and energy into a formless thing until it becomes formed. The dough doesn’t care what feelings are motivating my pushing and pulling, but after kneading dough, I feel as if I’ve kneaded some of the darkness out of myself that I did not need.
Bread making invites me into surrender & resilience (kneading is a proper arm workout), and it teaches me to listen. I learned this right away: my starter took FOREVER to do the things it was supposed to. Turns out, it was cold. Turns out, my starter likes to be fed filtered water and unbleached flour. Turns out, I had to wait, and I had to listen. My starter was speaking to me all along - I just didn’t know how to listen. Maybe the most fruitful beginnings need specific conditions for success. Maybe it’s not selfish to ask for - even insist - on what I need to flourish. Maybe it’s okay to take up the space I take - no more, and no less.
As a person, I have high expectations for myself: I want instant results & I want to be perfect, an overnight expert. I want to know the Right* way to do a thing, and I want that Right* way to be rewarded. I want to be in control. These sentences feel confessional and dark. But I share them because these egotistical desires tend to get in my way in sourdough making and in life. Working with sourdough allows me to practice patience, surrender, and listening to my intuition - practices which for me are spiritual work. I don’t believe sourdough is unique in its invitation to growth; almost anything can become a spiritual practice when we experience connection & pay attention. Which means that whether my loaves turn out the way I want or not, the time is not wasted.
1. Sourdough Recipes: In case you’re curious, I bought this book and have had great success with Ohara’s beginner’s sourdough recipe. However, my favorite thing to do with sourdough so far is actually not bread-related (and I had no idea you could use sourdough starter in so many recipes!) We love these overnight waffles & these quick biscuits. I would keep starter in the fridge just for these recipes, to be honest.
2. My favorite quarantine podcast: The Feminist Survival Project. The hosts, twin sisters who co-wrote the phenomenal book Burnout,** describe this podcast for “feminists who feel overwhelmed and exhausted by everything we need to get done in 2020, and still worry that we’re not doing enough.” Amen, right? The Nagoskis manage to make solid, practical science accessible yet not simplistic through story, metaphor, and - occasionally - song. They define self-care as “all of us caring for each other.” Isn’t that lovely? Their work on completing stress cycles changed my life, and I cannot recommend it enough.
3. Book: The Lazy Genius Way.
I love Kendra (affectionately known as the Lazy Genius) and her work so much that I support her podcast on Patreon, I have bought most of her workbooks, and I literally filled my wedding registry with her favorite kitchen tools. Her mantra is, “be a genius about the things that matter, and lazy about what doesn’t.” I regularly start sentences with, “Well, The Lazy Genius says…” and I’ve been slowly baking my way through every recipe on her website. Right now I’m eating a lot of this for lunch, and I made these last night when I wasn’t working on this newsletter. I kind of feel like Kendra is my Internet big sister? It’s fine.
Anyway, I’m stoked about her book The Lazy Genius Way, coming out next week. If you want to listen to chapter 1 to see if it might be for you, you can do that here. (Oh, and her preorder bonus contains a lot of the phenomenal resources I’ve already bought, like her meal plan & decluttering guide.)
4. Poem: “It Works” by Rabia of Basra
I discovered this poem through this video.
That’s all (that’s plenty!) for this week.
If you try any recipes - or if you’ve embarked on sourdough adventures on your own - I’d love to hear how it went. Feel free to reply directly to this email or to leave a comment below.
See you next Friday!
*In case it’s not clear, these capitals are ironic.
**My top nonfiction book of 2018.
Loved reading this and look forward to more newsletters! Miss you tons!