My First Sourdough Was a Brick

I kept a starter alive for two weeks, feeding it every day like a very needy pet. On day fifteen I decided it was ready.

The dough looked fine. It rose a little, or I convinced myself it did. I baked it, waited the full 45 minutes without opening the oven even once, and cut it open.

It was a brick. Dense, gummy in the middle, and the crust could have been used for self-defense. We ate a slice anyway, mostly out of respect for the two weeks.

Later I figured out what went wrong. I hadn't let the dough proof long enough, and my kitchen was cold that week, so everything moved slower than the recipe assumed. Nothing dramatic, just one boring mistake.

The second loaf was better. Not good, better. I'll take it.