2022: The Season Finale Ending None of Us Expected

RIP Gartur's Most Productive Resident

If there is one topic that has taken up most of my written word count over the last 8 or so years it would be the fact that sourdough starters are extremely difficult, if not impossible, to kill. They really can take all manners of neglect and abuse. Mould, crustiness, sitting in the back of the fridge for months on end, turning weird colours, none are any match for the powerhouse that is the symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast that makes up a sourdough starter. Unless you stick it in the oven or put a flamethrower to it (aka exposure to high heat), the vast majority of starters can be resurrected.

Reader, I have to tell you that I have found a starter killer that was not on any lists.

Our house is at least 150 years old, and probably older in places, and full of quirks. The oven requires at least a masters’ level in engineering to work, the hot water needs a basic plumbing apprenticeship to maintain. The kitchen and laundry room used to be the old dairy for the farm back in the day, the two adjoining buildings knocked together to form one house at some stage in the evolution of Gartur.

However, this plan had one minor problem. Like most barns and outbuildings of a certain age, the old dairy has no foundation, a window that doesn’t always stay closed and a gap where the water main enters the house, providing easy access to all manner of visitors throughout the year if we aren’t vigilant. In summer, the kitchen is a gathering place for slugs, escaping the army of ducks we have specifically for their control. We’ve had frogs make their way in, birds are frequent visitors, especially in winter. If they only did the washing up, I would change my name to Cinderella.

When the weather starts to turn cold, the mice try to come in. They are a mix of small field mice who attempt to make their way into the warmth of the house and the mice the cats bring in to train the baby Kimchi in the ways of hunting. Kimchi, despite his farm upbringings and feral father, has whatever is the opposite of a hunting instinct - being so dumb and lazy, even Maple Syrup - the most loving and nurturing of cats - has given up on him. He spends his days sleeping on Ellis’ bed and getting his head stuck in glasses of water.

Which is how we have a mouse living behind the Rayburn this Christmas. They have thwarted my attempts at catch and release and the ultrasonic mouse deterrents do not work. While not a fan of mice, they have become a normal part of living in this old house. We make arrangements for each other - we keep our food in jars and counters clean and they do their best not to scare the bejeezus out of me in the middle of the night. We live in relative harmony until Spring and they move out.

Until last week when I found one of said furry residents had met their end in the sourdough starter jar.

After weeks of writing and recipe testing for the Sourdough issue of Life in the Making, I had put Mildred the Sourdough Starter in her normal corner of the kitchen and forgotten about her. Hankering after some bagels, I set up the scale, grabbed the flour out of our flour bin and snagged Mildred to wake her up.

Needless to say, there was no waking Mildred up on this sad December day.

Mildred - jar, mouse and all, went in the bin.

The lesson here, is that you CAN actually kill a sourdough starter.

A week on, Enid, our new starter is bubbling away nicely on the counter ready to make bread, bagels and scones. She has a lid on the new jar and will be making her bread debut with tomorrow’s loaf.

Happy New Year, all. I hope Santa brought you a jar for your starter with a lid…