The Wild Crumb

Sourdough and ferments for real-life kitchens.

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  • Stuff your bread, stuff your feelings.

    Inclusion loaves are magical.
    You take a perfectly innocent sourdough dough ball and say,
    “Hey… what if I put STUFF in you?”

    And the dough, confused yet loyal, goes:
    “Okay.”

    Then suddenly you’ve created a loaf full of cheese, herbs, fruit, chocolate, nuts, emotional baggage — whatever you decide to cram in there.

    Here’s how to bake them correctly, but described with the exact energy of someone who cannot keep flour off their forehead.

    Step 1: The Base Loaf (AKA The Blank Canvas)

    You need a well-fed starter, a standard sourdough dough, and a willingness to absolutely ruin your clean counter tops.

    Use your usual sourdough method — mix, autolyse, stretch and fold.
    But during those folds?
    That’s when the mischief begins.

    Your dough should be:

    soft

    relaxed

    ready to accept your nonsense

    If it fights you, let it rest 15 minutes. Dough is like a toddler: cranky when tired.

    Step 2: Choose Your Inclusions (And Try Not to Overthink It)

    You can put literally anything inside a loaf. Here are some chaotic classics:

    Chocolate chunks: melts like dramatic mood swings

    Cheese: especially cheddar, gouda, or asiago (aka the holy trinity of bread melting)

    Cinnamon sugar: the loaf equivalent of a warm hug

    Dried fruit: raisins, cranberries, chopped apricots (look at you being wholesome)

    Nuts: for when your bread needs crunch and emotional texture

    Garlic + herbs: the “I know what I’m doing” combo

    Everything seasoning: maximum goblin

    Pick one or mix them all — but know this: only YOU can prevent chaos from becoming disaster. (Just kidding. You can’t.)

    Step 3: Add During Coil Folds

    This is where things get feral.

    Do a normal gentle stretch and fold.
    Then dump your inclusions on top like you’re feeding pigeons in the town square.

    Use your hands to fold the goodies inside.
    (Yes, everything will stick to your palms. No, you cannot stop it. Accept your fate.)

    Do 2–3 more folds, spacing them out every 20–30 minutes, until your dough holds the inclusions without screaming.

    Step 4: Avoid the Moisture Betrayal

    Some inclusions are moisture bombs — blueberries, peaches, wet cheese, wet herbs.
    They can sabotage your dough’s structure like tiny juicy traitors.

    If using wet fillings:

    Pat them dry

    Toss in a little flour

    Because if you don’t?
    Your dough will slide around your counter like a slime creature fresh from a swamp.

    Step 5: Bulk Ferment (Let It Dream)

    Let the dough rise. It will now be:

    lumpy

    uneven

    Perfect.

    Don’t panic if it looks ugly. Inclusion loaves often look like they’re going through something emotionally during bulk.
    They fix themselves in the oven.
    I promise.

    Step 6: Shape Gently (Or Chaos Ensues)

    Here is where many bakers lose their minds.
    Your dough is full of stuff.
    It wants to escape.

    Shaping tips:

    Don’t tear your dough — inclusions will explode out like confetti.

    Tuck everything in like you’re wrapping a burrito with a secret.

    Create tension without squeezing the life out of it.

    If anything pops out and rolls away, chase it.
    This is part of the process.

    Step 7: Overnight Cold Retard (AKA Time-Out for Dough)

    Pop it in the fridge overnight.
    This does three important things:

    1. Develops deeper flavor
    2. Firms up the dough
    3. Prevents inclusions from melting prematurely
    4. Gives you time to emotionally prepare

    Okay, that was four.

    Step 8: Bake (Summon the Carbs)

    Preheat your oven + Dutch oven until the air feels ticked off.
    Score your loaf — avoid slashing directly into big chunks or they will rebel.

    Bake hot, steam early, uncover late, and behold:
    INCLUSION GLORY.

    Cheese might ooze.
    Chocolate might erupt.
    Sugar might caramelize aggressively.
    This is all normal.

    If your house smells like a fantasy bakery that caters to elves and unhinged pastry chefs, you did it right.

    Step 9: Admire Your Creation (The Goblin Triumph Phase)

    Slice it open.
    Cry a little.
    Tell the loaf it did great.

    You have created:

    a bread

    a dessert

    a breakfast

    a personality trait

    A Final Crumby Thought

    Inclusion loaves are forgiving.
    Playful.
    Sometimes ridiculous.

    But they’re also a reminder that bread doesn’t have to be serious.
    It can be fun, messy, surprising, decadent, feral — just like someone we know.

    Now go stuff something new into a loaf.
    Worst case?
    The dough gets dramatic. Best case?
    You taste magic.

  • Going on a trip? Here’s the solution.

    Leaving town when you’ve got jars bubbling on the counter is a special kind of emotional crisis.
    You’re excited for your trip — but also side-eyeing your starter like,
    “Will you survive without me, or burn the house down?”

    Good news: your ferments won’t die, explode, or start a micro–society while you’re gone… as long as you set them up properly.
    Here’s how to prep each one so you can leave home knowing your kitchen won’t become the set of a fermentation disaster documentary.

    Sourdough Starter: The Low-Maintenance Roommate

    Starters are hardy. They’ve survived wars, migrations, and people who “forgot for months.”

    If you’ll be gone 3–7 days:

    Give it a normal feeding.

    Let it sit out 1 hour to wake up.

    Tuck it into the fridge like a chilled burrito of microbiological peace.

    It’ll nap the whole time.
    When you return, give it 1–2 feedings and it’ll be back to full gremlin energy.

    If you’ll be gone 1–3 weeks:

    Feed it 1:3:3 (starter:flour:water) or 1:4:4.

    Refrigerate immediately.

    This gives it extra food for the long haul.
    Think: big starter lunchbox.

    If you’ll be gone a month or more:

    Either:

    Freeze a tablespoon of starter
    or

    Dry a thin layer on parchment and store it in a jar as flakes

    Rehydrate it when you’re home — it will resurrect like bread Lazarus.

    Ginger Bug: The Drama Queen Who Will Explode if Ignored

    Your ginger bug has two modes:

    1. adorable,
    2. explosive weapon.

    So here’s how to leave town without returning to sticky cabinets.

    If you’re gone 1–3 days:

    Feed it normally the day you leave.

    Leave the lid very loose or use cloth + rubber band.

    Keep it somewhere cool.

    If you’re gone 4–7 days:

    Give it a big feed:
    20 g ginger + 20 g sugar + 40 g water

    Put it in the fridge.

    Loosen lid slightly.

    It’ll slow down and behave.

    If you’re gone 1–3 weeks:

    Same big feed.

    Refrigerate.

    When you get back, give it 2–3 days of normal room-temp feeding to revive.

    If you’re gone longer:

    Dry or freeze a portion the same way you would a sourdough starter.
    Yes — ginger bugs can be resurrected too.

    Sourdough Discard: The Forgotten Child

    If you have a jar of discard, you can:

    put it in the fridge

    ignore it completely

    Discard is immortal as long as it’s cold.
    You could leave for five years and come back to a funky science project that still bakes fine crackers.

    Ferments are sturdier than we think.
    They don’t need constant supervision — just a little prep and trust.
    Once they’re fed, tucked away, and cooled down, your jars will snooze peacefully while you’re out living life.

    And when you return?
    They’ll perk up the moment you feed them, like tiny creatures happy to see you again.

    Your jars won’t fall apart without you.
    They just wait — quietly alive, ready to bubble again when you get home.

  • Trash Goblin Tuesday

    It’s Trash Goblin Tuesday again, which means we gather ’round the sacred jar of “technically edible glop” and whisper the ancient spell:

    “You shall not waste.”

    Today we honor the noble sourdough discard — the goop that tried to get thrown away but instead becomes breakfast, lunch, snacks, personality trait, and possibly a moral compass.

    This is the weekly practice where:

    We rescue orphaned batter

    Turn chaos into carbs

    And feel smug about not feeding the compost bin yet again

    The jar burped.
    The fridge sighed.
    The baking gods grinned in crumbs and mischief.

    Let’s scoop, stir, and snack like the resourceful little kitchen goblins we are.

    Time to turn scraps into victory.

    Gooey Sourdough Discard Brownies

    Thick, fudgy, shiny top — classic bakery vibe with a tangy depth.

    Ingredients

    1 cup sourdough discard

    1 stick (½ cup) butter

    1 cup chocolate chips or chopped chocolate

    1 cup sugar

    2 eggs

    1 tsp vanilla

    ½ cup cocoa powder

    ½ cup flour

    ½ tsp salt

    Optional: extra chocolate chunks, flaky sea salt

    Instructions

    1. Preheat oven: 350°F (175°C). Grease an 8×8 pan, line with parchment.
    2. Melt butter & chocolate together in a saucepan or microwave in 30-sec intervals. Stir smooth.
    3. Mix wet ingredients: Add sugar, eggs, and vanilla. Whisk until glossy.
    4. Add discard: Stir in fully.
    5. Add dry: Fold in cocoa, flour, and salt until just combined.
    6. Bake: 25–30 minutes. Center should still look soft — don’t overbake.
    7. Cool at least 20 minutes (yes, the wait hurts, but the gooey payoff matters).
    8. Sprinkle flaky salt if you’d like a little drama.

    For extra fudgy: chill before slicing.
    For extra chaos: eat warm with ice cream and a spoon.

    Sourdough Discard Pizza Dough

    Soft center, crisp bottom, chewy edge — classic pizza night vibes.

    Ingredients

    1 cup sourdough discard

    2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour (plus a little for kneading)

    ¾ cup warm water

    1 tbsp olive oil

    1 tsp salt

    1 tsp sugar or honey

    1 tsp instant yeast* (optional but recommended for best rise with discard dough)

    • If you want a slower, more “sourdough forward” dough, omit yeast and extend rise time.

    Instructions

    1. Mix the Dough

    In a bowl, whisk warm water, discard, oil, and sugar.
    Sprinkle in yeast (if using).
    Add flour + salt and mix until a shaggy dough forms.

    1. Knead

    Turn onto a lightly floured surface and knead ~5 minutes
    (or do 3–4 stretch-and-folds over 30 minutes if you’re a dough-gentle type).

    Dough should be soft and slightly tacky, not sticky.

    1. First Rise

    Cover bowl and let rise:

    With yeast: 1–2 hours, until puffy

    Without yeast: 4–6 hours or until doubled

    1. Shape

    Dust your counter. Gently shape into a ball.
    Let rest 10 minutes (dough relaxes, stretching becomes nicer).

    Press/hand-stretch into a round or rectangle, depending on your pan/stone.
    Transfer to parchment.

    1. Toppings

    Add sauce, cheese, toppings — go classic or feral, your call.

    1. Bake

    Preheat oven to 475°F (245°C).
    If using a pizza stone, preheat it too.

    Bake 12–15 minutes, until edges are golden and cheese is dramatic and bubbly.

    Let cool a minute before slicing (just a minute — we’re humans, not saints).

    Tips

    No yeast + overnight fridge rest = best flavor + easier shaping

    Dust peel/parchment with semolina if you like extra crisp

    Brush edges with olive oil + garlic salt = secret win

  • Fermenting myths that are ACTUALLY true.

    Sorry bestie, some chaos is real.

    Welcome back to the bubbling side of the kitchen — where jars hiss, lids pop, and every decision feels like a trust fall with microbes.
    You already met the myths that needed to die.

    Now let’s talk about the ones that… unfortunately… live.

    These are the fermentation “myths” people whisper about in forums, swear they experienced, and you secretly hope never happen in your house.
    Spoiler: some of them absolutely happen.

    Let’s lovingly acknowledge the chaos.

    ✔️ Myth #1: “Your Jar Can Explode.”

    Yes.
    Correct.
    This one is not fearmongering. It’s physics.

    If you seal a fully active ferment in a bottle and never burp it, the gas builds and kaboom!
    Your sweet ginger bug soda becomes a glass grenade.

    The fix:

    Use sturdy bottles.

    Burp daily.

    Don’t be a gremlin who disappears for four days.

    (And if you are that gremlin… open the bottle slowly. Very, very slowly.)

    ✔️ Myth #2: “The Ginger Bug Can Foam Out of the Jar.”

    Also yes.
    Especially within 2–3 hours of feeding on a warm day.

    Signs it’s about to volcano:

    Lots of tiny bubbles

    Ginger pieces levitating

    Lid puffing

    That ominous sizzling sound

    Solution:
    Leave room at the top.
    Your bug has opinions and they require space.

    ✔️ Myth #3: “Ferments Attract Fruit Flies Like a Beacon of Doom.”

    Nothing — and I mean nothing — summons fruit flies faster than a happy ferment.
    You think you’re alone, and suddenly 17 tiny winged gremlins appear like you called a meeting.

    Keep jars covered.
    Use lids, cloth, or coffee filters.
    And remember: fruit flies love kombucha more than you do.

    ✔️ Myth #4: “Your Starter Might Go Through a ‘Weird’ Phase.”

    Middle-aged starters smell odd.
    New starters smell odd.
    Starters going through temperature changes smell odd.

    Odd is normal.
    Rotten is not.
    Your nose knows.

    If your starter smells like apples, yogurt, or vinegar — normal.
    If it smells like actual doom — start over.

    ✔️ Myth #5: “It Will Look Ugly Sometimes.”

    No one tells beginners this, but:
    Ferments are often ugly.
    Great flavor, terrible face.

    Expect:

    Cloudy liquid

    Suspicious sediment

    Floating ginger carcasses

    Murky colors

    It’s not ruined — it’s just living in a jar, doing its thing.

    ✔️ Myth #6: “Sometimes It Just… Dies.”

    Even with love.
    Even with perfect feeding.
    Even with warm temperatures.

    Ferments are living creatures.
    Sometimes they get contaminated, starved, or shocked by temperature swings.

    It’s not your fault.
    Hold a tiny funeral
    Start a new one.

    ✔️ Myth #7: “You Will Think It’s Dead When It’s Actually Fine.”

    Winter?
    It sleeps.
    Summer?
    It sprints.
    Autumn?
    It has an identity crisis.

    If there’s no mold and it doesn’t smell like something died, it’s probably just resting.

    Feed it.
    Warm it up.
    Whisper encouragement.
    It’ll be back.

    ✔️ Myth #8: “Ferments Have Moods.”

    Yes, this sounds unscientific.
    No, science cannot explain all the drama.

    Some days your ginger bug is lively.
    Some days it acts like it needs coffee.
    Some days it foams like it’s auditioning for a volcano documentary.

    You learn to read it.
    And you will swear it has a personality — because it does.

    A Final, Honest Truth

    Fermentation is controlled chaos.
    It’s alive, unpredictable, and sometimes messy.
    But that’s what makes it beautiful — you’re partnering with nature, not bossing it around.

    Let your jars be wild.
    Let the bubbles rise.
    And keep a towel nearby just in case.

  • A friendly rant from your flour-dusted kitchen gremlin

    A friendly rant from your flour-dusted kitchen gremlin

    Fermentation is one of those hobbies where you start out curious and excited… and suddenly you’re ankle-deep in internet panic posts about mold, explosions, and “IS THIS NORMAL??”

    Fear not.
    Most of the fear floating around ferments is — how do I put this lovingly — nonsense.
    So today, we’re dragging some of the biggest fermentation myths into the light, patting them gently on the head, and sending them on their way.

    Bubbles up, bestie. Let’s debunk.

    ❌ Myth #1: “If It’s Bubbly, It’s Definitely Alcohol!”

    No.
    Relax.
    Calm your fizz.

    Most ginger bugs, starters, and lacto-ferments create trace alcohol as a byproduct — we’re talking microscopic, almost imaginary amounts.
    Your starter isn’t brewing moonshine.
    Your sauerkraut isn’t trying to get you tipsy.

    If anything, your ferments are more likely to help your liver than bother it.

    ❌ Myth #2: “If It Smells Strong, It Must Be Rotten.”

    Fermentation is literally controlled funk. It’s supposed to smell:

    tangy

    sour

    spicy

    sharp

    alive

    It is not supposed to smell like roses.
    That’s perfume, not bacteria.

    If your ginger bug smells like a warm, spicy lemonade that partied too hard, congratulations — that’s perfect. If your sourdough starter smells like warm delicious yeasty bread, AMAZING.

    Rotten smells? They’re obvious and dramatic.
    Tangy? Normal.
    Vinegary? Hungry.
    Gym socks? Feed it.
    Dead? …You’ll know.

    ❌ Myth #3: “It’s Ruined If It Separates.”

    The elements settle, the liquid rises — the whole jar looks like a weird science experiment.
    Guess what?
    It is a weird science experiment. That’s fine.

    Stir it.
    Feed it.
    Carry on.
    Separation is not a crime.

    ❌ Myth #4: “You Can’t Use Metal Spoons or Bowls.”

    This one lives in the same neighborhood as “don’t swim after eating.”
    It’s outdated and dramatic.

    Stainless steel is inert.
    It will not kill your starter.
    It will not poison your ginger bug.

    Just don’t store long-term ferments in reactive metals like cast iron, aluminum, or copper.
    Temporary contact? Totally fine.

    ❌ Myth #5: “White Film = Mold!”

    Oh, the panic this one causes.

    Let’s clarify:
    Mold is fuzzy, colorful, raised, and dramatic.
    It enters the chat wearing a cape.

    Kahm yeast — a harmless white film — is flat, dull, thin, and kinda boring.
    Annoying? Yes.
    Dangerous? No.
    You can scoop it off and keep going.

    If your jar looks like it grew hair: that’s mold, my love. Toss it.
    If it looks like someone sprinkled flour dust on top? Kahm. Keep calm.

    ❌ Myth #6: “You Must Follow Exact Instructions or Everything Dies.”

    Fermentation has existed longer than clocks, timers, and temperature controls.
    People were fermenting food before math.

    Your kitchen:

    changes temperature

    has its own microbes

    has its own personality

    You can’t mess up by being human.
    Your jars are more resilient than you think.

    Work with your environment, not against it.

    ❌ Myth #7: “If It Doesn’t Bubble Fast, It’s Dead.”

    Sometimes your starter or ginger bug wakes up like a golden retriever.
    Sometimes it wakes up like a cat that might bite you.

    Both are fine.

    Cold weather, low sugar, or a grumpy batch of microbes can slow ferments down.
    Slow doesn’t mean dead — it means patience required.

    ❌ Myth #8: “You Need Fancy Equipment.”

    You don’t need:

    airlocks

    weights

    expensive jars

    mystical tools from the land of Etsy

    You need:

    a jar

    a lid

    time

    your nose (THE best tool)

    Fancy gear is nice, but not necessary.
    Your ancestors were out here fermenting in clay pots and hope.

    ❌ Myth #9: “It Has to Look Perfect.”

    Your ferments are not Instagram models.
    They’re little ecosystems, alive and imperfect.

    They’re supposed to be:

    cloudy

    bubbly

    weird-looking

    a bit wild

    If it’s safe and tasty, it’s perfect.

    Fermentation is part science, part instinct, part chaos — and that’s the beauty of it.
    The more you interact with your jars, the calmer you get.
    The more you learn to trust your senses, the easier it becomes.

    Your kitchen is alive.
    Your jars are thriving.
    And you’re doing amazing — even if not every ferment behaves.

    Now go check your ginger bug and sourdough starter.
    I promise they’re fine.

  • POP goes the ginger bug!

    So you’ve been feeding your ginger bug — stirring, sniffing, peeking like a proud parent at science class in a jar. The question always comes:
    “Is it ready yet?”

    Short answer: maybe.
    Long answer: let’s decode the signs together — fizz, scent, and that mysterious spark of microbial magic.

    1. It Smells Bright, Not Funky

    The first clue is always the smell.
    A ready ginger bug should smell fresh, zesty, and a little sweet-tart — think citrus and spice with a hint of warmth.

    If it smells like gym socks or vinegar, it’s either hungry or cranky (same thing, really). Feed it again and give it a day.

    ✨ Pro tip: your nose is better at fermentation diagnostics than any thermometer. Trust it.

    2. It’s Bubbly — Visibly Alive

    You’ll see tiny bubbles rising from the bottom or clinging to ginger pieces.
    That’s carbon dioxide, proof that your yeast and bacteria are awake and partying.

    When you stir, it should foam lightly — not soda-level chaos, but definitely enthusiasm.
    If it just sits there, silent and flat, it’s still waking up.

    Typical timeline: 3–7 days, depending on temperature, water, and mood (the bug’s and yours).

    3. It’s Eating and Growing

    Each feeding should leave the mixture a little more active.
    If it’s ready, you’ll notice:

    Bubbles form faster after feeding (within hours).

    The top may get slightly frothy.

    It smells tangier each day.

    You might even hear a faint hiss when you open the jar — a very satisfying “yes chef” from your microbial team.

    4. The Temperature Test

    Ginger bugs are creatures of warmth and mood swings.

    They thrive around 21–27°C (70–80°F).
    If your kitchen is chilly, the bug will slow down — it’s not dead, just grumpy.
    Try moving it to a warmer spot (top of the fridge, near a vent, inside an oven with the light on).

    Don’t heat it directly. Boiled yeast is not a vibe.

    5. The Float Test (Optional but Fun)

    Take a spoonful of liquid from the jar and drop it into a glass of water.
    If it floats or fizzes, your bug is carbonated enough to start a batch of soda.

    If it sinks, give it another day or two — it’s still working up its confidence.

    Now What?

    Once your ginger bug is bubbly, it’s ready to bottle magic. Use 3–4 tablespoons of the liquid (strained) per quart of sweetened tea or juice to create naturally carbonated sodas.

    Then feed your bug again and let it rest — it’s earned it, and so have you.

    The moment your ginger bug comes to life isn’t just chemistry — it’s a reminder that small, cared-for things wake up when you give them time.

    Listen for the fizz.
    That’s nature whispering, “yes, it worked.”

  • Ginger Bug Potion Hour

    Welcome to Potion Hour — our weekly moment where the kitchen turns into a tiny bubbling apothecary and we embrace our inner cozy chaos witch (or forest gremlin, no judgement here).

    This is the hour where ginger bugs stretch, bottles hiss with secrets, and humble fruit turns into sparkling mischief. We brew not because we need soda — but because it feels good to coax magic from simple things.
    Bubbles earned, not bought.

    So tie up your apron (or don’t), stir your potions like you’re whispering to tree spirits, and let the jars fizz with the same uncontained energy you’re carrying into the weekend.

    Ready to brew trouble and sweetness in equal measure?
    Let’s get fizzy.

    Pineapple Fermented Fairy Punch

    Ingredients

    1 cup pineapple juice or blended pineapple

    1–2 tbsp sugar (if using juice)

    2–3 tbsp ginger bug

    Water to dilute if needed

    Directions

    1. Combine pineapple + sweetener.
    2. Stir in ginger bug.
    3. Bottle, burp daily, pray to bubble spirits.
    4. Chill before uncorking.

    Peach Goblin Nectar

    Ingredients

    1 cup mashed or blended peaches

    1–2 tbsp sugar or honey

    2–3 tbsp ginger bug

    Splash vanilla (optional, but oooooh yes)

    Water to loosen mixture

    Directions

    1. Mush peaches like summer treasure.
    2. Mix with sweetener + splash of vanilla.
    3. Add ginger bug & water.
    4. Ferment 24–48 hrs, chill.

  • Fermented Foods and the Mind: How Tiny Things Help Us Feel Human

    There’s something quietly miraculous about a bubbling jar on the counter.
    Cabbage turning tangy, milk thickening into yogurt, a ginger bug fizzing softly — all signs that your kitchen is alive.
    What looks like chaos in glass is actually a conversation between you and trillions of microbes.
    And here’s the twist: that conversation doesn’t stop at your gut.
    It reaches your brain.

    Welcome to the gut–brain connection — the secret friendship between your microbiome and your mind.

    Your digestive system isn’t just a food chute; it’s lined with a network of over 500 million neurons — sometimes called your second brain.
    These nerve cells constantly talk to your actual brain through the vagus nerve, carrying messages about digestion, emotion, and even immune function.

    When your gut microbes are balanced and happy, those messages tend to sound like:

    “All good here — you can relax.”

    When they’re stressed, overfed, or undernourished, the message shifts toward:

    “We’re not okay,”

    …and that quiet distress can echo into your mood, sleep, and focus.

    Fermented foods feed that inner ecosystem — they nurture the microbes that keep the conversation calm, clear, and kind.

    How do they help?

    Fermented foods are full of live bacteria (probiotics) and fermentation byproducts like lactic acid and enzymes.
    Together, they do a few important jobs:

    1. Repopulate the gut with good microbes — balancing the internal ecosystem so no one species takes over like a toddler with a drum set.
    2. Produce neurotransmitters — some gut bacteria actually help create serotonin, dopamine, and GABA, the same chemicals that influence mood and relaxation.
    3. Reduce inflammation — a healthy gut lining keeps inflammatory molecules from wandering into your bloodstream, which helps your brain function better.
    4. Support digestion and nutrient absorption — when your gut works smoothly, your energy and mood follow.

    You don’t need a whole apothecary of fizzing jars (unless you want one).
    A few simple ferments go a long way:

    Sauerkraut & Kimchi: full of lactic acid bacteria that boost gut diversity.

    Yogurt & Kefir: great for supporting serotonin production and immune balance.

    Sourdough Bread: fermented grains reduce stress on digestion and promote steady energy.

    Ginger Bug Sodas & Kombucha: gently energizing, filled with live cultures and natural acids.

    Fermented Vegetables: everything from pickled carrots to dilly beans offers fiber (prebiotics) and probiotics in one bite.

    Even small amounts daily — a spoon of sauerkraut, a glass of kefir, a slice of sourdough — make a difference.

    Microbes, Mood, and Mindfulness

    Here’s the real secret: tending ferments is good for your mental health long before you eat them.
    The act of feeding a starter, burping a jar, or tasting something that changed under your care gives you a rhythm, a sense of participation in something alive.

    It’s a reminder that growth isn’t linear.
    Sometimes things bubble fast, sometimes they slow down, but as long as you keep showing up — it keeps working.

    That mindset seeps quietly into everything else you do.

    Research on the microbiome is still unfolding, but what we know is striking:
    people who regularly eat fermented foods show lower levels of stress-related hormones, less anxiety, and improved emotional resilience.

    It’s not magic. It’s microbes — tiny helpers translating care and nourishment into calm.

    The same bacteria that make your sauerkraut tangy are also whispering to your nervous system,

    “Hey, you’re doing alright. Keep going.”

    Fermented foods are not quick fixes; they’re quiet allies.
    They work slowly, the way sourdough rises — invisible at first, then suddenly, everything’s lighter.

    Feed your gut the way you feed your starter: regularly, kindly, without obsession.
    And remember, every bubble in your jar is a small spark of balance returning —
    not just to your body, but to your mind.

  • The winter sourdough starter survival guide

    When winter rolls in, your starter starts acting like a sleepy bear: sluggish, quiet, maybe a little dramatic. You feed it, you whisper encouragement, and it just… sits there.

    Don’t panic. It’s not dead — it’s just cold. And moody.
    Same, honestly.

    In warm months, your starter doubles in hours. In winter, it takes its sweet time. That’s okay.
    Fermentation runs on temperature, not your schedule.

    At 70°F (21°C), your starter is cozy.
    At 60°F (15°C) and below, it slows to a crawl.
    Below 50°F (10°C) It’s basically on strike, wrapped in a tiny microbial blanket.

    So don’t rush it — just know your starter’s taking the scenic route.

    Your starter doesn’t want to be hot — it wants comfortable sweater weather.

    Good winter homes for starters:

    On top of the fridge (gentle warmth)

    Inside the oven with the light on (no heat!)

    Near a heating vent, but not directly on it

    Wrapped in a towel like a baby burrito of fermentation

    If your house runs extra cold, tuck the jar in a small box with a jar of warm water beside it — a DIY bread sauna.

    Cold slows digestion — your starter’s eating slower, so don’t overwhelm it with too much food at once.

    Feed smaller amounts more frequently:

    20g starter

    40g flour

    40g water
    Repeat every 24–36 hours until it perks up.

    If you see bubbles, that’s progress. Tiny miracles count.

    If you bake less often in winter, refrigerate your starter.
    Feed it once, let it sit out for 1–2 hours to wake up, then pop it in the fridge.

    Feed weekly while it hibernates — a spoonful of flour and water to remind it life still has meaning.
    When you’re ready to bake, take it out, feed it twice at room temperature, and it’ll remember who it is.

    Just like us, starters love hearty meals in cold months.
    Whole wheat, rye, or spelt add warmth and extra nutrients that help fermentation stay strong.

    If your starter seems sluggish, switch one feeding to whole-grain flour — it’s like handing it a gingerbread latte.

    Trust the Smell Over the Clock

    Cold weather messes with timing, but your nose never lies.
    Healthy starter smells tangy, fruity, maybe even a bit like yogurt or apple cider.
    If it smells sharp and alive — it’s fine.

    If it smells like vinegar or gym socks — it’s hungry. Feed it and move it somewhere warmer.

    If it smells dead? …You’ll know. Start over. (RIP, fallen dough soldier.)

    Even your dough will rise slower this season, embrace the long ferment — it builds better flavor anyway. Let it bulk ferment overnight. Let it take its time in the fridge.

    Winter sourdough is the bread version of a slow-cooked stew — deeper, quieter, cozier.

    If your starter rests in the fridge all season and you only bake when the mood hits — that’s fine.
    You’re both allowed to slow down.

    Bread doesn’t have to be constant productivity. It can just be a small reminder that warmth still lives in your kitchen.

    Your starter doesn’t die because it slows down — it’s teaching you to match its pace.
    Winter sourdough is quiet, patient, a little sleepy, and a little stubborn.
    Feed it, trust it, and when spring comes, you’ll both wake up stronger.

  • Trash Goblin Tuesday

    Welcome to Trash Goblin Tuesday, the sacred weekly moment where we refuse to throw perfectly good sourdough discard into the void and instead transform it into carbs, enchantment, and questionable self-control.

    This is where leftovers become legends.
    Where the “I’ll deal with that later” jar becomes joy.

    Every Tuesday, we honour the ancient art of not wasting food and also being mildly unhinged about it.

    Grab your jar.
    Stir the gremlin goo.
    Let’s make something delicious that feels like rebellion and smells like comfort.

    Sourdough Discard Pancakes

    Light, fluffy, zero waste, very “it’s okay that life is messy.”

    Ingredients

    1 cup sourdough discard

    1 cup milk

    1 egg

    1 tbsp sugar

    2 tbsp melted butter or oil

    1 cup flour

    1 tsp baking soda

    ½ tsp salt

    Optional: vanilla, cinnamon, blueberries if you’re feeling whimsical

    Instructions

    1. Whisk discard, milk, egg, and melted butter.
    2. Add flour, sugar, salt — mix lightly. Lumps are a feature.
    3. Sprinkle baking soda on top, fold gently. Watch it puff like it’s proud.
    4. Cook on a warm, buttered skillet. Flip when bubbles show up like stars.
    5. Eat warm. Butter melting is half the therapy.

    Tip: Let the batter rest 5–10 minutes if you have the patience — the fluff rewards you.

    Savoury Sourdough Discard Crackers

    Snacky, crispy, dangerously easy to inhale.

    Ingredients

    1 cup sourdough discard

    2 tbsp olive oil

    ½ tsp salt

    ½ cup flour (ish — adjust till thick paste)

    Optional toppings: flaky salt, herbs, everything seasoning, grated Parm, pepper flakes

    Instructions

    1. Preheat oven to 325°F (165°C).
    2. Mix discard, oil, salt, and just enough flour to make a spreadable paste — thicker than batter, thinner than dough.
    3. Spread thin on parchment — as thin as your patience allows.
    4. Sprinkle with seasoning. Salt flakes = joy.
    5. Bake 20–30 min until crisp and lightly golden.
    6. Cool, break into shards, pretend you planned rustic shapes.

    Tip: Thinner = crispier. And they keep well in a jar, if they last that long.