This might be the most satisfying (and longest?) post to-date, since it means I have finally cracked the seemingly impossible code of Homemade Sourdough. After several months of many frustrating failures (realistically, it was about 4 actual attempts with long breaks in between), I am now the proud owner of a healthy, regular homemade sourdough habit. As with many habits, it has a trickle down, contagious quality that spreads its tasty fermented web to the many happy households that surround me–everyone gets a loaf. My brother and sister-in-law are hosting a family dinner night, I bring a loaf. Visiting the grandparents for a mid-week evening tea session, I bring a loaf. My father-in-law’s birthday is coming up and we still don’t know what to get him, I bring a 4-day fermented loaf.
It all started when my sweet sister-in-law, who is amazing in many ways, but especially great at giving really meaningful, personal gifts, surprised me for Mothers’ Day with a date for a sourdough baking class. On top of this super cool promised experience we would share together, she provided me with a shiny new 5-quart Dutch oven that makes baking the perfect boule (round loaf) a breeze. So we went to the class together, had a great time, learned a lot, and brought home both the dough we had started in class, and a strong batch of starter to keep and nourish for future loaves. The trouble started for me once I got home, and continued with the bulk fermentation process then the pre-shaping/shaping, where the real nightmare unfolded.
Bear in mind, this was in the middle of summer in LA where we always had the AC running, so temperature was a definite issue. My dough was disastrously wet and would not hold any semblance of a shape. I tried my best through panicked frustration to get that dough in its banneton knowing full well as I placed it in the fridge for its overnight fermentation that it wasn’t going to turn out well. After a 12-hour chill, I baked what turned out to be a dense, flat and sad pancake. I was so disappointed, but remembered what the sourdough class teacher had said: ”no matter how bad it looks, never throw it away. Always bake the dough. It will taste good.” She was right, it tasted fine, but everything else about it was wrong. I made another attempt sometime after with very similar results.
Then the next time, my husband decided to try his hand, since he had been promised homemade sourdough and we still hadn’t had any. This was probably the most frustrating attempt since it started with him making fun of me for feeling mixed up with the math of feeding the starter (I wasn’t actually wrong). We decided to make two batches of dough, one his way and one my way and see which turned out better. They were both terrible and flat again. This ended my desire to make sourdough at home. A 25 pound bag of bread flour sat unopened in the corner of the kitchen shaming me for months.
Until sometime after Christmas, fueled by a new bout of some silly family stress, I quietly and methodically set out to conquer this looming fear. I lovingly fed my starter several times a day for a few days until I saw she was still alive and well, then got to work. Something new I tried was to turn on the oven light and place the starter in the oven after feeding for it to activate. Seeing this worked well, I did the same with the dough once it was mixed together and let it sit there for the entire bulk fermentation in between the stretch and folds. This also responded well. I capped fermentation at around 6 hours total since the warmth of the oven sped things up. I was finally able to preshape and shape a nice loaf without trying to handle a watery mess of dough. I realized my previous problems of overly wet, shapeless dough were due to overfermentation. The gluten strands had not been worked enough and had become too relaxed to hold any structure. Now I know to cap fermentation at around 5 hours, but more importantly when the dough has doubled in size, jiggles, has bubbles throughout, and is no longer sticky to the touch (or very slightly). This ensures a tall, fluffy loaf with an even, open crumb structure.
The last bit of experimenting was to decide how long to cold ferment before baking based on personal preference for how “sour” we like our sourdough. The general consensus is 48 hours at the minimum and up to 4 days. We like tasting the punchy fermented flavor that store bought sourdoughs only slightly allude to. Once you get the hang of this, you’ll be so proud of yourself and will be so impressed every time you pull one of these beauties out of the oven. It’s a highly therapeutic process that only seems intimidating until you figure out the basics of why each step is important to the perfect end result.
My most helpful advice to succeed is to be mindful of temperature, both of your environment AND your actual dough. It’s helpful to stick a meat thermometer in your dough and see where it’s at. It likes to be really warm, like 78°F-82°F, so the oven light trick is a great hack. This way you can know how your dough is progressing so you know when to stop bulk fermentation and begin shaping. I’m sure there are other causes, but over-fermenting has led to flat, dense, and tight loaves that lack the beautiful texture and chew of a good sourdough. Also, during the stretch and fold sessions, be pretty deliberate with stretching that dough as much as possible without breaking it. These sessions are important for building up the gluten structures that will help the final dough keep its form during shaping. You will see the dough get progressively more smooth and stretchy with each set–that’s a good sign! Then during shaping, don’t be afraid to add a light dusting of flour if things do get a little sticky. It will be fine and you’ll be able to achieve great shape and tension to your dough ball.
After all this, baking off the loaf is the easiest, quickest stage–a mere 20 minutes with the lid and another 8-12 depending on how crispy and golden you want the crust. Waiting at least an hour before cutting into that beauty to truly see how you’ve done is really hard but another important step. All that’s left is to slice, slather with salted butter, and eat! Your. Homemade. Sourdough.
