I’ve baked this loaf, or some variant of it, so many times I’ve lost count. This bread was born when I first got my hands dirty with flour and water. Its parent—if you could call it that—was originally Chad Robertson’s Tartine loaf with his liquid levain, brought to life, not with intensive kneading, but rather a series of folds during bulk fermentation.
My best sourdough recipe has grown since then. It has developed a personality of its own as I’ve expanded my baking repertoire and investigated the many facets of baking naturally leavened sourdough. It’s taken on and lost traits from many great bakers out there, borrowing from their inspiration and giving me a direction to raise this bread into something of my own. This bread is one that doesn’t entirely taste like anything else I’ve had, and yet, still employs many of the same processes and ingredients.
That’s one of the greatest things about bread: it can taste and look dramatically different just by changing the two hands that create it. Calling this post “my best sourdough recipe” is a lofty claim, but honestly, I do believe this is the best bread I’ve made thus far.
I sometimes revisit a discussion I had with a few readers of this site and their comments: “bread is just bread, it’s something to be eaten and is something life-giving, isn’t that enough?” I agree, but when something becomes a passion for you it’s important to set lofty goals and get excited when breakthroughs are made. Isn’t that the definition of a craft and the relentless honing required?
I’ve taken my best sourdough recipe from its most nascent form to its current stage and can trace through the years each change to its formula or process — and I’m sure I’ll be changing things well into the future as it continues to evolve — a work-in-progress.
