Rise and Shine with Sourdough

How sourdough changed my life

Once upon a time, in the quaint little town of Sanford, I found myself entangled in the bustling world of sourdough bread baking. It all began with a simple loaf I tried my hand at, but little did I know that it would pave the way for a life-changing habit that transformed my mornings forever.

As my love for sourdough grew, so did my fascination with the idea of nurturing a sourdough starter from scratch. I embarked on this adventurous journey armed with flour, water, and a dream of baking the perfect loaf. The process seemed mystical yet straightforward – just like with most great things in life.

On a serene summer evening, I mixed my first batch of flour and water and let it sit on the kitchen counter. Little did I know that this seemingly innocent mixture would end up dictating my mornings. The first few days passed, and my sourdough starter didn't seem to show much activity. Doubt crept in, and I questioned whether I had what it took to care for this living organism.

But then, on the morning of the fourth day, I saw something magical. Tiny bubbles danced on the surface, and the unmistakable tang of fermentation filled the air. My starter was alive, and so was my determination to embrace this newfound routine.

As the days passed, my sourdough starter flourished, just like my sense of accomplishment each time it doubled in size after each feeding. I began to notice a pattern – the more I cared for my starter, the more my life seemed to align.

One evening, after preparing my starter for the night's feeding, I decided to set my alarm for 4 am. I wanted to give my starter a head start in the morning, so it would be ready for its next feeding by the time I woke up. But waking up at 4 am was no easy feat for someone who had been accustomed to sleeping in until the sun was high in the sky.

The first morning was brutal, and the temptation to hit the snooze button was overwhelming. But then, I reminded myself of the bubbly life waiting for me in the kitchen. I stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and made my way to the kitchen.

As I fed my starter, I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with it. We were both on a journey of growth and transformation. The more I cared for it, the more it rewarded me with loaves of tangy, chewy sourdough bread.

With each passing morning, waking up at 4 am became easier. I noticed that I felt more energized throughout the day, and my mind was clearer, ready to embrace the day's challenges. The act of nurturing my sourdough starter had cultivated a deeper appreciation for discipline and consistency within me.

Not only did my sourdough starter thrive, but so did I. The habit of waking up at 4 am became a ritual that extended beyond my sourdough adventures. I used the quiet hours before dawn to meditate, read, or simply sit in contemplation.

Through this simple act of caring for my sourdough starter, I discovered the beauty of starting each day with intention and purpose. It taught me that sometimes, the most rewarding habits are born from humble beginnings.

So, here I am, a sourdough enthusiast who owes it all to a tiny, bubbling mixture of flour and water. My mornings are no longer blurry-eyed and chaotic; they are serene and empowering, thanks to my daily rendezvous with sourdough at 4 am.