Sourdough isn't a trick – it's a small, friendly ecosystem that rests quietly on your counter. If you care for it with patience – keep it clean, give it warmth and feeding it regularly – it will thank you in its own time. In return, you'll be rewarded for years, even decades, with bread that has a deeper aroma, easier to digest and a keeping quality that stretches far beyond the day it is baked.

“An old friend with many names” - that is what sourdough is often called. It doesn’t bark or purr, but it is very much alive. Fed and kept warm, it gives something back in return: a quiet kind of patience, carrying notes of apples and grain. Those tiny bubbles? They are the promise of a good day ahead.
Bring the clean jars, the ones with the loose lids, and find a warm corner. Nothing too lively, just a calm, steady mixture that slowly learns to breathe. A starter is not something to rush, it is something to accompany. And once it has been seen rising and settling, like a gentle tide, it becomes difficult to imagine baking without it.
Inside that jar, there’s a quiet little world at work, lactic and acetic acid bacteria living alongside wild yeasts. They feed on flour and water, and as they go about things in their own time, they create gentle acids, a touch of alcohol, and carbon dioxide, the breath that lifts the dough.
Keep them somewhere between 24 and 28°C and they’ll stay happily active. A little warmer and the flavour leans softer and rounder; a little cooler and it becomes sharper, with more edge. You’ll taste it in the loaf. A moist, structured crumb with a fine honeycomb inside, and a crust that colours deeply, holds its crispness, and carries its aroma quietly through the room.

Wheat, and sometimes apple and wheat, likes a slightly quicker cycle, about every three to four days, with the same 10:50:60 ratio. Use wheat flour and a gentle ferment at 22 to 26 °C before it goes back to the cool to rest. If the mood ever takes you to change lanes, it's a piece of cake to convert one starter to another. It’s less a switch and more a slow conversation. You can make rye bread using a starter of 10 g rye flour, 50 g wheat flour and 50 g water. Leave it for 12 hours, then add another 50 g water and 50 g wheat flour. Leave it for another 12 hours, then repeat. By then, you've taught it to love wheat. The reverse journey, from wheat to rye, follows the same path.
Mini-FAQ
“Why does my starter smell like vinegar?” → It skewed acidic or stayed too cool; refresh more frequently and keep warmer (24–28 °C).
“Can I revive a sluggish starter?” → Feed at warm temps with fresh flour/water; repeat 1–2 cycles.
“Shall I use a tight or loose lid?” → Cover, don’t seal airtight during active fermentation.
Warning signs
• Unusual colours (red, blue, black, green) or visible mould → discard immediately and start over.
• Strong vinegar smell signals excess acidity or cool conditions – refresh and add warmth.
Everyday hacks for warmth
• Warm home spots (kitchen, near but not on radiators with insulating board).
• Oven-light method with caution: briefly warm with light on, then turn off; avoid overheating.
• Precise heating: bring water to 35–37 °C for starter builds; maintain cool water for main doughs to manage final dough temperature.
• Exact weights: built-in scale for consistent feeding ratios.
Come and rest the lid gently on the jar and listen as the bubbles begin to settle. There’s a quiet kind of company here, a jar that breathes, a kitchen that waits, and bread that carries the taste of grain, time, and care. We’ll feed it again soon enough, and you’ll see, this little one, known by many names, will begin to fill your home with comfort long before the loaf ever reaches the oven.