In a world that is anything but normal, life goes on. My sourdough starter still needs replenishing every week, and I find myself more and more unwilling to throw away a large portion of it that isn't needed for the replenishment. Plus, there is something cathartic about baking, to me. So yesterday I tried a new recipe for sourdough, French style. Actually, started it day before yesterday, finished it yesterday. It takes awhile to do it right. And while it's not perfect, it's certainly the most successful batch of artisan-style French loaves I've made thus far. I learn more each time.
The crumb is not perfect and the rise was not as rounded as I'd like, but the taste is wonderful. Very strong sourdough flavor (which I like). Part whole wheat -- not sure of the percentage, but less than half. Takes a very hot oven, which tends to set off the very-sensitive smoke detectors we have in these apartments. Even a bit of flour browning on a pan can set it off! There was no real smoke, but then there never is when the alarm goes off. Least of my worries.
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