On the seventh day she feasted. And it was good.
On the cooling rack today: dark rye, caraway, sourdough loaves and muffins.
To make my first ever sourdough starter nurtured from scratch, I had to invest six days of patience, during which time my living quarters became increasingly beery smelling as the critter under the cloth bubbled and funked.
Small price to pay for knowing exactly what is in my food. That yeasty funk is now transformed to fresh baked bread smell.
Thanks for inspiration and permission to depart from the word on the page, Edward Espe Brown and The Tassajara Bread Book