I recently moved out of my London flat and down to the south coast of England, to live for a while with my sister and her husband in the lovely seaside city of Brighton.
Surprisingly, being a dedicated foodie, I'm actually getting used to not having my own kitchen to cook in. But there is one thing that I have not been able to give up on, and that's my sourdough starter. I made a few loaves with it when I was in my old London flat, and took it to my sister's when I moved there last month. And a rather strange thing has happened – the starter has gone completely bonkers.
It was always a fairly frothy, smelly mess, but since it has had a blast of sea air, it's just exploding all over the place. I know that it is the yeastiness in the atmosphere that makes a sourdough starter what it is, but I wasn't expecting this. And when I made my first loaf with it a couple of weeks ago, the flavour was amazing.
I've made a point of making some sourdough every weekend since moving in with little sis and her husband (a small thank-you for putting up with me), and I'm happy to say, it's just getting better and better. Holey, strong-flavoured, moist of crumb and crunchy of crust, it's become something of a Sunday-breakfast ritual for us.
Even Archie the greyhound is enjoying a few morsels – although I'm not sure I'm too happy about him getting his chops round my hard work. But I suspect I don't have much say in the matter…