This delightful, iron-rich snacky took advantage of the last of my spinach that was rather drearily hanging on to its final glimmers of life, along with some yellow onion and a nice hunk of Gruyere.
Also witness the highly attractive, crusty bread slice the ingredients perch atop! That, friends, is the last slice of my very own sourdough bread... the first and last loaf I will ever bake. My very enjoyable class at The Brooklyn Kitchen Labs gave me a sourdough starter and instructions for baking some really delicious sourdough boules (Also a wonderful word to say! Boules!!). I was utterly thrilled with the results:
But. That damn loaf took me like 18 hours to make. All that bloody kneading and rising and moving of dough from cool to warm and back again made me feel hyper-anxious, not to mention the fact that you must feed your starter daily--twice daily is preferred!
As if I have time for that. And by week's end, you've got this monster of a starter who's freaking hungry for more flour and water, and he's taken over your biggest jar, and you forgot to feed him last night, so he's angry and smelling especially riled up and sour, and the sourdough pancakes that you made with his excess last week and were delicious are, this week, really seriously sourdoughish and oozy. The teacher said "Treat your starter like a baby. That you eat." Well. I just threw my baby down the drain. I am scared of what that says about me.
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