The Death of a Culture
If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, happen to have taken one of my classes, happen to know me IRL or were within shouting distance of my home or place of business a few months back, you might have heard my desperate screams screeds sobs pleas for help. Hercule, my very aged, desem sourdough starter, had disappeared. Hercule was very dear. He’d lived with me in 3 states and two countries. He was a gift, and he originally came from Belgium (or at least that’s the story I was told)! He was special, and I’d (mostly) treated him with great care for the years of his life with me.
For the many years of Hercule’s stay with me, I reveled in the fact that he’d gotten around. I pondered the many microbes within him, and the (in my mind) fact that they had been built up on Pacific and Atlantic coasts, in valleys and on mountains. I thought I must have one diverse community living in my little ball of dough.
I’m not a huge baker, and although Hercule made delicious bread, a loaf every week or two in the winter, in the summer, he mostly lived in the refrigerator except for his feedings. I’m not a cruel microbe-master. I just can’t stand heating up the house with the oven in the warmer months. When it’s hot, we’re an almost exclusively salad and smoothie family. That’s just what tastes good in the warm months, you know? Come fall, though, Hercule lives out in the world with us humans and makes delicious smells and even more delicious breads. Or, I should say, lived. He did live with us in the cool months, but now he’s gone. One day, I went into the fridge to get him, and there was NOTHING there. Just kidding, I ferment, there was a ton of shit there, but there was no Hercule. I searched high and low. I cleaned out the fridge. I searched every container in there and every cupboard in my kitchen before finally accepting the truth. Hercule was gone. Why he’d left, I have no idea. Where he’d gone, a mystery. But I knew he wasn’t coming back.
I was initially completely freaked out and upset by this. Total panic. Then I remembered that I’d done this before. Not this exactly, but I’d neglected him until he bred (bread?) no more. I’d gone months without Hercule, but then replenished him from the stock of friends. I recalled that I’d given out at least dozens of sourdough starters, so I assumed I’d have no problem getting Hercule back. Incorrecto. Frantic emails to past class participants, anguished tweets and pleas on Facebook yielded not a single person who’d kept their version of Hercule alive. I slowly began to accept that he wasn’t coming back. I wasn’t okay with it or anything. I may have cried. I definitely did some reading on sourdough to assuage my pain, and to kind of memorialize Hercule. Are you judging me? That’s fine. I hope you never lose a culture you’ve cared for for 7 years. I hope you never have to know how it feels. *Splashes face with water to simulate tears.*
Katz on Sourdough
The happy news is that in my reading, I went to my own personal Life and Fermentation Guide, aka The Art of Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz and found some unexpected solace. I mentioned this passage in my previous discussion of SCOBYs, but I’d like to go a little further in-depth on it here. The basic thesis statement is that you have native yeasts in your home. The yeasts in the air impact which bacteria (naturally present on the grain) thrive, and the communities of bacteria and yeast that are present in your home will dominate the cultures present in your sourdough when it arrives.
This is revolutionary stuff guys! It means that although Hercule is gone forever, he’s not really gone at all. The Hercule that moved into my South Philly home from my Old City loft is not the Hercule that was lost. And the Hercule that crossed the country with me from California is not the Hercule that I had mere weeks after arriving in Philly. The native community dominates, for the most part (start reading from page 233 in The Art of Fermentation if you want beautifully written prose that makes scientific studies sound gorgeous and fascinating).
It is clear that there are some strains of yeast that may survive travel and the strength of the the native microbiota of a place, but for the most part, the environment changes the dominant yeast and bacteria in no time at all. And speaking of bacteria, evidence presented in the same chapter of The Art of Fermenation suggests that there is much more bacterial activity than there is yeast activity, contrary to popular belief.
So in conclusion, don’t pay money for a sourdough starter. I’ve done it. A few years ago when I was testing stuff out, just to see, I bought a culture that purported to be like Hercule from a very reputable source. I rehydrated it and it worked great. But I wish I had known that I was wasting my money, and that whatever came into my house would be adapting soon enough. So go forth and create your own, or better yet, take some from a friend and keep it alive. No reason to ignore your community just because your sourdough creates its own.
Want more sourdough?
Make some waffles with your extra sourdough starter
S says
I took a bread seminar years ago with a french baker and he mostly dispelled the same myths about purchasing regional starters–even with a background of working at bakeries that kept their levain going for generations. And I’m glad to hear that I’m not alone in neglecting my crock of starter in the back of the fridge, I like to think that my own personally cultivated strain thrives on abuse, as it happily comes out of the cold and rebounds in one or two feeds back into productivity! 🙂
Amanda says
Hi S,
I’m with you. I’ve actually made all my starters from scratch since Hercule disappeared. I’m pretty sure this practice will end with the weather chilling, but with my infrequent summer baking, there was really no need to hang on to one.
I have several cultures who are pretty tough due to occasional abuse, but I try not to push the boundary too much. I talked to a guy at an event that fermented his yogurt at 180 degrees, kept kefir cultures in the back of his fridge for 3 months at a time readily switched between raw and pasteurized milk and still had fantastic end products. Some people are just lucky, I guess :-).
How was the fermentation fest last month? I just clicked through to your blog and saw some very, very lovely farm photos!
Thanks for reading!
Best,
Amanda
Rae Lovvorn says
My mom had Herman in the back of our fridge when I was growing up. He lived in an orange Tupperware bowl with a handle, and made the best coffee cake in the world. Hmmm, perhaps I should start my own. Beauregard, since I am in the South now.
Amanda says
Hi Rae,
I love it! And now I want sourdough coffee cake. Let me know how “Beau” turns out!
Becky says
A friend of mine ordered an old sourdough starter from a flour company. And then shared it with me. Which I have proceeded to share. One friend has tried to kill hers twice, but both times while visiting her, I’ve been able to revive it.
Now that I think about it, I should pull mine out and give it some love. Maybe even bake a little something. It’s awfully cold out there and turning the oven on would do wonders for the house.
Amanda says
Oh yes, I’m going to make a new rye starter tonight and bake up some lovely Thanksgiving loaves or rolls next week. Very excited to get that oven on.
Matt says
I actually dispute that sourdough cultures are a product of our environment. My belief is that the organisms come from the grain itself. Think about this: you buy grapes at the grocery store and they have a fine dust on them. That’s yeast and other organisms. Microorganisms are naturally attracted towards their food sources.
Wheatberries growing in the field are covered with yeast and bacteria, and these little guys ride through the process of milling and packaging to make it into your home in a bag. Just mix with water and they’re ready to go. Sure, your environment will contribute something, but it’s going to be a small cell count compared with the ones that are already present. So I would actually say that the real source of your sourdough culture is the field where the wheat was grown!
Cool blog, Becky (above) sent me the link!
Amanda says
Hi Matt,
Thanks for the kind words! What you write mirrors the thoughts I had before reading Sandor Katz’ studies of the studies (and subsequently the extracts of the studies I could find online). As it turns out, the sourdough culture is a SCOBY of sorts, meaning that the yeast and bacteria are symbiotic, and the yeast that exist in the air in your home actually play a role in selecting the bacteria that will thrive in the culture in your home. So yes, there are diverse bacteria coming in on the grains, but the ones that survive in the culture once it’s activated are actually dependent on what’s already in your environment. It’s important to note that not everyone’s house is rich with yeast, and these studies were conducted in bakeries.
Another fun fact from The Art of Fermentation: there aren’t a ton of sourdough strains. When supposedly diverse cultures were tested, researchers found only a “handful” of different strains.
Thanks for reading and writing!
Best,
Amanda
Cary says
Thanks for the inspiration and easy instructions. Just this minute started my first SD starter in a verrrrry long time. Really appreciate your help! Love your writing too! 🙂
Amanda says
HI Cary,
Thanks so much! What kind of starter did you do? Now that I’m freed from my one starter mindset, I’ve been playing around with different flours everytime I make one. It’s pretty fun!
Let us know how yours turns out!
Best,
Amanda
Leslie Geballe says
Amanda, I am getting back into sourdough bread baking and was looking for your tutorial on making bread based on Tartine’s method. Is this useful day-by-day no longer available?