How and Why I fell in love with Sourdough

A few years ago, I fell down a terrifying rabbit hole on TikTok. I was watching video after video about how the food we eat is basically… garbage. Additives, chemicals, processed garbage—Corporate America (and Canada, let’s be honest) doesn’t care that they’re poisoning us; they only care about shareholder profits. I thought I had been doing everything right—homemade dinners every night, feeding my family “healthy”—but apparently, I had been living a lie.

And then I found sourdough.

I can’t even remember how I stumbled onto it, but suddenly I was obsessed. You know those videos on YouTube—the ones with the girl in the floppy homesteader hat, wearing a flowy prairie dress, with chickens pecking around her feet and children doing homework on the counter as she magically produces the fluffiest bread you’ve ever seen? Yeah. I was hooked. I figured, “I bake bread. I can totally make sourdough.” How hard could it be?

Holy. Shit. Was I wrong.

Making my own starter was a full-on battle. Daily feedings (it was like having a infant again!), figuring out the discard ratios, experimenting endlessly with flour-to-water ratios—my kitchen looked like a chemistry lab and I made a mess that would make a toddler blush.  Every loaf was a gamble. Some rose beautifully, others looked like sad bricks. I was constantly researching, taking notes, tweaking temperatures, water ratios, even the type of flour and salt I used. Sourdough isn’t just bread; it’s a living science experiment. Thank god, my husband was so understanding about  my new obsession and was a great sport at trying all the carbs that I was obsessed with making for every meal lol.

Did you know, water temperature alone changes everything. Too warm and the starter goes wild and acidic; too cold and it barely bubbles. Also how about  the hydration affects the crumb, the type of flour affects flavor and texture, and the tiniest variance in salt can completely alter the taste, it's crazy how sourdough works. Unlike yeasted bread, which is fairly predictable, sourdough keeps you on your toes. Every loaf is a little adventure—or a little disaster lol

There’s something mesmerizing about a living starter. I named mine Bob (because, honestly, every starter deserves a personality). I started him with simple grocery store flour and unfiltered tap water, not knowing that sourdough was going to become a full-blown obsession. I quickly realized this wasn’t just a recipe—it was a journey. Joy, frustration, experiments gone wrong, experiments gone right—it all became part of the process. Every little detail mattered.

I started baking the bread in a round Dutch oven (called a Bouille) and tried my damndest to replicate the grocery-store loaf shape. Safeway’s sourdough had the tang I loved (sorry, Freson Bro.'s), but I wanted more flavor, more character, more chew, more everything! Making the tangiest loaf possible quickly became a personal mission. I also hated the waste from traditional loaf shapes—those awkward middle slices that never fit in the toaster? Ugh. So I switched to loaf pans, perfected my shape, and haven’t looked back since.  

What started as a hobby became a passion. I love the slow, intentional process of sourdough, how each loaf develops its own personality, and the satisfaction of sharing it with friends and family. The science behind it amazes me—how just flour, water, and salt can transform into a loaf that’s nourishing, delicious, and totally unique. Every tweak changes the outcome. Every loaf is a new learning experience. And yes, it takes three days to make just one loaf, which is insane—but worth it.

Once I dove into sourdough, it spiraled into a full-on obsession with clean eating, kefir, urban homesteading, and learning to feed my family well. This spring, I’m hoping to add urban hens to the mix! Being a millennial mom determined to give her family the best food possible has been a wild, messy, and incredibly rewarding ride. And it all started with a little jar of Bob, bubbling on my counter.