Priscilla, my sourdough mother, has been languishing at the back of the fridge for a couple of years. The kids weren’t too fond of sourdough bread and I shouldn’t eat it, so I popped her in a container and put the lid on. After eating a delicious sourdough croissant on the weekend from The Bakery in Portland, I thought I’d release Priscilla from exile and see if she’s still alive.
She’s come out whooping and shouting for joy. Not half an hour after feeding her half a cup of flour and she’s already starting to bubble up with feasting yeast.

black and white photo of sourdough bubbles
Sourdough is very difficult to photograph