Right after Christmas, I created my first sourdough starter. I named it Blunderbore and vowed to help it grow.
Like other deities of creation, I bestowed gifts upon young Blunderbore: filtered water, wheat and all-purpose flour and, of course, my undivided attention.
All was well for many days.
This week, Blunderbore begat. And I named this new creature: Sourdough Bread.
When my now-mature starter offered Sourdough as a sacrifice, to thank me for all the blessings I had given and to request good fortune in the future, I gratefully accepted.
For a first-born bread, Sourdough was delicious.
