I arrived back in the country last Tuesday, exhausted and happy. You probably understand, holidays can be strange. There’s so much excitement in anticipation before you go and (hopefully) so much joy in the experience. Then, there is coming home.
I loved coming home after this trip. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to have remained in Barcelona with the amazing food, the beautiful walks, and the ocean. But if it had to end, and all things must, coming home has been nice.
It is the only home I have at the moment, which feels like a strange thing to say. I have been a student for so long I have been used to having a flat and my childhood home as ‘home’ but all that is coming to a close as I graduate in under two weeks. In August, I’ll start my graduate job and move into a new flat and home will shift again but for now I am spending my summer as I did when I was a young child.
In order not to drive my mother insane with my energy, I have started new projects! In doing so, however, I managed to finish up some older projects. I don’t quite understand how that happened but it did. If only that worked on command, right?
My first project was born out of reading recipe books out of boredom. How could I have been bored with the internet at my fingertips and plenty of knitting to be getting on with? I have no clue whatsoever, but it is indeed a miracle my mother has not killed me yet. I started a sourdough starter.
It’s pretty easy to do. You mix equal parts water and flour together (I used 100g of each) and leave it alone save for feeding to more water and flour each day (in same proportions as before). It should be idiot proof.
It has only exploded twice so far.
I’m not sure that happens to other people? Jeepers, batman!
They haven’t been big explosions; it’s dramatic of my mum to call them that. The first day, I closed the lid of the jar because the recipe told me to. This all happened because I followed the recipe which I find dreadfully ironic. That night, I read on the internet that it wasn’t the best idea to because the carbon dioxide released by the yeast would build up. I went to sleep resolving to open it in the morning.
I was slightly too late. In a single day, the pressure had built to the point (a tiny bit of the) rim of the jar exploded outwards. You can just see the chip in the rim in the photo. Luckily, none of the glass went into the starter. It was only the outer bit of the rim and the rim itself was still workably intact so I carried on with the lid left open.
The second explosion happened this morning. It’s been warm here and my starter has been doing rather well. I’ve been feeding it and discarding the excess starter each morning so by today (day five) it has become a fine bubbly starter that smells suitably sour. I fed it and noted that it should probably start going in the fridge according to the recipe. But I wandered off. Two hours later, I came down to a mess.
The warm weather and the yeast had yielded explosive growth. It rose itself out of the jar and all over the counter. Such fun.
Truthfully, I am being a regular Pollyanna about all this. Both of these explosions just show that there’s yeast present. It’s working! Cue the triumphant music. But, I guess the truth will be in the