The Week I Almost Killed My Sourdough Starter
I must have lost my mind last week, because somehow I missed feeding my sourdough starter from Thursday through Sunday. (And for those of you not raising one of these bubbly little beasts… that’s kind of a big deal. They usually get fed daily.)
My brain was in full dough mode—mixing, baking, prepping for the Saturday market, connecting with all of you lovely folks—and then came the usual post-market crash. It wasn’t until Sunday evening, when I went to feed my starter (so I could, you know, make bread Monday morning), that I realized… it had been a while.
When I peered into the jar, I saw the sad truth: my starter was looking rough. But denial is strong. I fed it anyway, weighed out my flour for the morning, and went to bed. After all, I’d skipped a feeding here and there before. But that was winter, when the kitchen’s cooler. This summer heat? It speeds everything up—including the starter’s hunger.
Come Monday morning, I checked in, and my heart sank. The starter hadn’t moved an inch. No bubbly rise. Just… flat. “Oh no. I think I killed it.”
No dough that day. Thankfully, my Tuesday bread folks were gracious and flexible. I pulled out my backup dehydrated starter (yes, I keep one—just in case), started a revival routine, and waited.
A few hours later, I spotted a couple of bubbles—signs of life. By evening, it had perked up. One more nighttime feeding and by morning… she was back! Just in time for those key lime rolls. Crisis averted. Starter saved.
But honestly, it felt like a little miracle. Or maybe just a reminder: sometimes even the things we care for the most slip through the cracks when life is full. We forget. We burn out. We drop the ball—and that doesn’t make us bad bakers, parents, partners, or people. It just makes us human.
This little sourdough saga? It’s not just about bread. It’s about resilience, repair, and grace. It’s about those moments when we think something might be too far gone… and then we try anyway. We add warmth, nourishment, time—and hold our breath hoping for signs of life.
So if you’ve been feeling like your energy is a little flat lately, like the joy has settled at the bottom of the jar… I see you. Maybe this is your invitation to feed yourself again. To slow down and care for your own spark the way you would a sourdough starter—gently, consistently, and without guilt.
And if you ever need help, or just something warm and nourishing to get you back on track, you know where to find me—starter revived, bread rising, heart wide open.
