Tonight, I almost killed it.
It is my sourdough starter. I've had this batch going for almost three weeks now. A few days ago, I accidentally left it out overnight and picked up a fabulous new wild yeast strain that totally changed its character. It smells like a good Belgian wheat beer now. I made some rolls that were fantastic, so I was looking forward to a long relationship with this starter and many hundreds if not thousands of delicious loaves and rolls.
But tonight, as I was feeding my little doughy blob of goodness, I accidentally broke it's jar. Starter poured out all over the counter, mixed with shards of glass. Oh no! I said. Mein Liebling kleinen Monster! I've killed you.
I collected as much as I could, strained it, and put it in a new jar with a fresh batch of starchy, sugary yummies and have been anxiously awaiting signs of life all night. A few moments ago, I checked, and it has begun to breath!
It's alive!
Oh, let the angels sing.
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