Since I last wrote about my sourdough starter, I haven’t actually made any more sourdough. My starter has sat starving in the fridge for weeks. I’ve heard that it’s hard to kill, so maybe I could revive it- if I wanted.
My first loaf was overcooked. I shared half of it with my sister. I explained that it was more like sourdough crackers. She dug out the inside and chucked the crust. Since I overcooked the first loaf, I ended up undercooking the second and third loaf. They were raw in the middle. The loaf I brought to the potluck, I realized was raw as I was cutting it into pieces and only served the outside edges. Unfortunately, my sister was eating away at the second loaf and took a bite of the not quite cooked part. Her stomach turned. That was the end of the second loaf. She didn’t even try cutting off the raw parts and feeding the rest to ducks, she just chucked it. Somehow I think the sourdough starter I gave her has shared the same fate as mine.
My duck feeding adventure wasn’t much of a success either. I went on a cold gloomy day which was probably a mistake since it seems that ducks are scarce on such days, but I figured the sourdough wouldn’t last much longer in my fridge. I walked to the river and went in search for ducks. It took me a while to find any and the ones I found were all swimming in the river. Meanwhile, I was walking above them on a steep bank leading to the river. I was quite alright with having them at a distance since I had been concerned about how the ducks would all come at me for more food if I fed them. Although I like watching animals in nature, I don’t like when they get close to me. I proceeded to throw the hunks of bread to them in the river. The problem with this technique was that the bread floated quickly away from them downstream. They did make a bit of an effort to get it. I changed tactics and threw the bread further upstream to give them more of a chance. This partly succeeded, they got to nibble a little bit at each piece as it floated away. In the end, the river ate most of my bread. There were some geese further downstream, so it’s possible they ate the bread, or maybe they took a taste and like me, decided to let it go.
In the meantime, I don’t mind kneading so much anymore. Maybe I’ve just gotten in the habit.