My sourdough starter Priscilla will be ten years old in January, 2017.
In all the years that we’ve had her, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve bought bread. She has infused herself into the wood and granite and concrete of our kitchen – I suspect that if we left a bowl of flour and water on the bench, the essence of Priscilla would seep out from the nooks and crannies and bring it to a bubble like the witches’ cauldron in Macbeth.
I’d love to say that I grew Pris from scratch, but that would be fibbing. She is unique though, and I’ll tell you why.
In December 2006, I ordered two different sourdough starters from the US. I activated both, storing them very carefully in separate sealed jars in the fridge.
A couple of weeks later, I accidentally tipped the leftover starter on the bench into the wrong jar…and Priscilla was born. I have no idea whether she’s a combination of both original starters, or whether one dominated over the other – she may even be a mutant evolved from the two. But I do know that ever since that day, I’ve had my bubbly girl in the fridge, and she has never let me down.
Priscilla, Queen of the Refrigerator, has a very distinct personality.
If I ignore her for a couple of weeks, she gets sulky and goes out drinking – I know this because she ends up floating in a pool of alcohol (hooch). Then she needs coddling before she’ll behave again – small, regular feeds and gentle words of apology. She can be a diva when she gets her nose out of joint.
On a good day, she will joyously blow bubbles and produce an elegant, well-behaved dough that feels like silk. She seems almost eager to please then, as if to say, “there you go, are you happy now?” and “what else would you like to do? It’s no problem, really…”
She becomes hyperactive in hot weather, creating billowing doughs that try to escape their containers. But bless her, she never collapses in an exhausted heap, and even after a 12 hour+ bulk prove on the bench, she’ll always bounce back for a second rise. Many sourdough starters aren’t this resilient, but Priscilla isn’t greedy, and she seems to know how to pace herself. Or maybe she just has me figured out.
Like many ten year olds, our starter can be a fussy eater. She likes a high protein bakers’ flour, turns her nose up at the fancy stuff, and prefers filtered water. She has a surprisingly sweet disposition for someone with “sour” in her name, and turns out loaves which are flavoursome without being overly acidic. After all, she knows the boys wouldn’t like that.
Since her arrival, Priscilla has changed our lives. If we could bake bread from scratch, then surely we could also grow vegetables and make yoghurt and temper chocolate? It couldn’t be too hard to bake cakes and cookies, or run chickens in the backyard, could it? Self-empowerment comes from believing you can do things you never thought possible, and then being brave enough to try.
And it’s not just our lives she’s changed, because Pris has budded off hundreds of offspring. She has a whole family tree of children, nephews, nieces, second cousins and more grandchildren than you could imagine, each with its own name and personality. She even has a line of drag queen offspring who are exceptionally flamboyant and bubbly. She’s the matriarch of a whole sourdough dynasty!
Sigh. I’d better go now, as she’s calling me. I’ve got dough rising and it’s time to shape!
Fig Jam and Lime Cordial 