I'd only ever used commercial yeast before and while I am confident when making breads with dry, active yeast, this was my first go at using a leaven. I wasn't sure what to expect - how would the dough rise, how long should it take to rise, how should it look when it's risen enough?
So, yeah, I followed the instructions of the recipe to the T.
[Of the started you create, you use only a small portion - about 100g or so, depending on the recipe - for the bread. The remaining 100g or so you keep and feed for future use]
I had to knead the dough briefly in two ten-minute intervals before leaving the dough to rest for an hour, to rise.
After an hour, the dough barely rose and I was panicky. Was it not working? Worried, I decided to just continue on - I was to shape the dough into a round and place it in a proofing basket or a floured kitchen cloth and place it in a deep bowl to rise further, for 1.5 hours.
I waited. Anxiously. Peeping in every 30 minutes or so. Yeah, I was a Nervous Nelly alright.
[I must mention that I woke up at 5am to start on my bread. It was 8am and I couldn't wait to see the dough after the second rise.]
I peeked inside the cloth again and was pleased to see it had risen. Not as much as I'm used to with the dough that uses commercial yeast, but it had risen. Surely that was a good sign. Perhaps leaven takes longer to rise, allowing the flavours to develop slowly? [I consulted Jane later and she confirmed that for a bigger rise, more time is needed. So I made the loaf again later in the day and let it rise for longer - about 4 hours - and true enough, the rise was significantly more and the flavour superior.]
Pleased with the moderate rise (or rather, because I couldn't wait to taste this bread), I proceeded to bake it.
Whoooopp! Yup. I think I half-yelped as I took the pot out and saw the lovely crusted dome in the saucepan. What do you know! It looked beautiful. Nice and crusty [the sourdough crust is part of what makes it so popular and sought-after - nicely crisp and crunch] ... and it smelt divine. I couldn't wait to cut it open and peer ... no, gaze ... no gawk at the inside of my bread.
I cut it while it was still hot (after photographing it, of course) and it was glorious. It was still steaming and it smelt .... yes, once again, divine. Delicious. I knew it would taste great too. I just knew it would.
And it did. The pumpkin seeds (the original recipe called for sunflower seeds but I love pumpkin seeds and decided to swap) were a yummy addition and added crunch and flavour to the already tasty bread.
For the recipe and the very detailed instructions, head on the The Wayward Oven.
I called Jane immediately (well, a little later as I didn't think she'd appreciate a call from a howling, screeching me so early) and thanked her profusely for her starter and her recipe.
Even Mojo, my 12-year-old dachshund kept sniffing at the bread on the dining table and though he's on a strict diet (the vet says he's 1.5 kg overweight - for a small dog, that's a LOT) I gave him a tiny piece of the bread. He loved it (but then again he loves anything edible. Or even inedible).
The bread didn't last a day - I let a few friends and colleagues sample some and I ate the rest for dinner. It was too good to keep!