For years, I saw many people start their sourdough journey, each of them bubbling with excitement and anticipation. I watched the success and failures of everyone I loved, their triumphs inspiring me and their setbacks reminding me of the unpredictable nature of fermentation. I felt a deep desire to join in the wonderful world this was creating, to experience the magic that comes when simple ingredients turn into something extraordinary.

Many times, I took this inspiration and eagerly set out my little cup of flour and water on the counter for several weeks, hoping something crazy would happen, something vibrant and alive. Perhaps the life I was living was not the best of environments, perhaps there was too much negative energy around me that stifled my culinary ambitions, or perhaps I simply had no idea what I was doing amidst the myriad of tips and tricks I had gathered.

Regardless, each of the times I built up my inner psychosis to declare, “I’m going to make my own sourdough starter,” it simply wasn’t in the cards for me. For whatever reason, the muck that sat in the bowl was not what I was hoping for; it was a disappointment clinging to my dreams. I may have created a life form, a bubbling mixture that seemed to laugh at my efforts, but in those bowls did not sit a thriving sourdough starter, but some other creature from the black lagoon – my Venom symbiote haunting my attempts, taunting me with its unwholesome appearance.

For all of the thorough research I had done to get started, and all of the love I thought I was pouring into the little dish, the thing I created was inedible. There were a variety of colors, some alarming shades almost like a paint palette gone wrong, sometimes it was fuzzy, reminiscent of a science experiment gone awry, and none of them smelled like the delicious, tangy sourdough bread I had bought from the store in San Francisco, a far cry from the heavenly aroma I had dreamed of bringing into my home.

But as an artist, I didn’t give up. I set this idea to the back of my mind, letting it percolate a little longer, read a few more blogs about the process and the failures trying to figure out what I had done wrong. I watched all the thirst traps TikTok’s trying to get that next wave of inspiration to get started on the journey. As is true for most things in life, I had to wait until the time was right, to make it work.

During Christmas of 2025, I found myself knee-deep in baking like a holiday elf on a caffeine rush. With a mountain of buttermilk staring at me (which I had no intention of drinking—seriously, who enjoys that stuff?), I decided to make it my culinary sidekick. I snatched it up, separated it into cup-sized portions, and tossed them in the freezer like tiny dairy presents. This genius move not only saves me from battling the “weird milk” monster but also means I can whip up my famous buttermilk bread at a moment’s notice. Picture this: a light and fluffy bread straight from the bread machine. All I need to do is defrost the potion, warm it up, and voilà—deliciousness that rivals fresh buttermilk! Who knew saving dairy could be so entertaining?

With this frozen buttermilk, I had a brilliant idea! What if I could harness the natural lactic acid in the buttermilk to lower the pH, giving me a fantastic way to fend off those pesky bad bacteria and mold that usually cause trouble? I don’t need to be baking multiple loaves of bread every day right now, but if this experiment succeeds, I could easily store it in the fridge and start crafting delicious weekly loaves! It might sound a bit unconventional, but I thrive on creative experiments!

On the first day, I took a glass Rubbermaid container, added 50 grams of whole wheat and rye flours blended together, and stirred in 50 grams of buttermilk at room temperature. I mixed this thoroughly, ensuring that there were no clumps, covered the container with a kitchen towel, and placed it in a warm corner of the kitchen table where it could be undisturbed. While I felt a flicker of optimism about this attempt, I didn’t really expect much from it, as doubts crept into my mind. After all, I didn’t really do anything significant; it only took me about 3 minutes to complete this entire process, so the experience felt a little anti-climactic. Nevertheless, the combination of the flour and buttermilk sat there, silently waiting, while I carried on with my day, occasionally glancing back as I wondered what might happen as the hours passed. The anticipation of growth and transformation hung in the air, even though I was unsure of what to expect.

• 50 grams of Buttermilk (room temperature)
• 50 grams of Flour (I blended Rye and Whole Wheat Flours for this)

Day 2, I approached it with excitement. Could it be sourdough starter yet? I understand this is a delightful journey that requires patience, much like nurturing a plant from seed; each day, I return to care for it, eagerly anticipating that first glimpse of a sprout breaking through the soil. I transferred 50 grams of the mixture to a fresh Rubbermaid container, added 50 grams of all-purpose flour and 50 grams of room temperature water. While nothing remarkable had occurred in the container just yet, it showed no signs of distress, which encouraged me to keep going. Plus, it only took a few minutes, and then I could set it aside for 24 hours. I gently covered the new container with a towel, said farewell to the original starter, and continued on with my day, filled with hope for what was to come.

Days 2-10

• 50 grams of Starter
• 50 grams of Water
• 50 grams of Flour (different mixes of bread, all purpose, whole wheat and rye flours)

Days 3 through 10 were quite exciting! Each day, I would eagerly return every 24 hours, lift the towel with anticipation, check for any signs of life, and then cautiously sniff the substance as if I were expecting it to leap up and surprise me like I was Eddie Brock or something. Thankfully, it never did: my face is safe and there’s no Venom lurking in my brain. I would carefully transfer the same 50 grams of starter to a clean dish, add in 50 grams of flour and water, alternating through different types of flour, convinced that giving the yeast something hearty like whole wheat and rye flours would help it thrive. After a few days, just when I least expected it, I started to see some wonderful reactions in the mixture. Returning a few hours later, I was delighted to discover little bubbles forming around the inside of the glass container, signaling that something special was happening. While it might not have smelled like stepping into a Boudin Bakery just yet, I was beginning to catch delightful hints of yeast wafting from the bowl.

By the end of initial 10 days, I was thrilled to see the potential of creating my own sleepy starter. It began to double in size noticeably, and it did so in no time! While it wasn’t perfect, it represented the most progress I had made compared to my previous attempts at crafting a sourdough starter. This filled me with excitement. Now, I had the opportunity to be patient. I took my starter, gently placed a lid on the container, and tucked it into the fridge for a week. I glanced at it daily, and although it seemed to settle without much change, I could still sense the magic brewing inside.

This marks the exciting beginning of my journey! I’ve come further than ever before in creating a sourdough starter, and the thrill of accomplishing this much fills me with joy. Each step of this process feels like a mini celebration, as I nurture my starter and watch it come to life. Although I know there’s a wealth of knowledge still ahead, I’m eager to learn and grow throughout this process, embracing every challenge and opportunity. As I reflect on the past four months, I’m grateful for the various experiments I’ve conducted with my sourdough starter, each one adding to my understanding and creativity in the baking world. From trying out different flours to adjusting hydration levels, every experiment has unveiled something new and delightful. I find myself filled with anticipation as I observe the starter’s unique character develop over time.

In the upcoming sections of this series, I’ll share the most valuable lessons I’ve learned, including tips and tricks that I’ve picked up along the way, to help you embark on your own journey into this wonderful world of baking. Whether it’s the perfect loaf or an unexpected mishap, every moment is a stepping stone toward mastery. While the path may not always be perfect, I’m excited to take you along with me as I continue to explore and expand my horizons in baking! Together, we can navigate this delicious adventure, face the ups and downs, and ultimately create something truly amazing.

I want this space to be more than just a mere diary of my flour-dusted countertops—let’s shake things up! Whether you’re grappling with a “Venom symbiote” in your kitchen or whipping up loaves that could give any artisan French bakery a run for its money, I want to hear your stories. This journey is all about building a community as we tackle the art of bread together. Have you experienced a “black lagoon” moment? Did a certain flour revolutionize your baking game? Spill your triumphs, your epic fails, and your one-of-a-kind sourdough sagas in the comments below. Let’s unite, laugh, and rise together—because baking isn’t just a hobby, it’s a movement!

As I look at my little jar of starter on the counter, I am reminded that there is a Great Big Beautiful World out there, shining at the end of every day. This blog is a safe space for you to try, to fail, and to find your own magic among the flour and water combinations. Every little bubble in that container is a sign of progress, a tiny celebration of what happens when we refuse to give up on a dream.

So, I encourage you to step out of your own comfort zone and start something small today. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to start. There is a whole world of flavor and discovery waiting for us just around the corner. Let’s keep nurturing our starters and our spirits, because as long as we keep dreaming and doing, it truly is a Great Big Beautiful World out there.