Requiem for a sourdough

Seamus has noted that I’ve given no updates on my sourdough in recent weeks. Given that I feel sluggish and stupid this morning, sourdough seems like a sufficiently easy topic for me to write on. Here’s the update: my sourdough died. Yup. I think it had to do with the milk basis as Brendan suggested. After the second batch, it began to smell funny (even in the fridge). I tried a batch of biscuits and they were possibly the foulest baked goods ever made by mankind. Needless to say, I tossed the whole batch. Since then, my new employment and recent illness have prevented me further explorations in sourdough. However, if I’m feeling better this coming weekend, I’m contemplating driving my stone crock out to the Shenandoah and trying to capture some hillbilly yeasts in a flour/water mixture while I bicycle the Skyline Drive. I’ll report back when that happens. Regardless, the recent collapse of my local sourdough culture has not dissuaded me from further tests. The idea of maintaining a sourdough culture for years on end, especially if I can ascribe an exotic provenance to it, strikes me as a singularly cool thing to do. Thus, you can be certain there will be future sourdough posts. And, if I can get a good culture, I’ll even start sharing!