Suddenly, people were all over the web posting pictures and stories and questions about sourdough baking. Some talked about the provenance of their starter. There were claims of them being handed down through generations of families—tens, even hundreds of years old. It got me thinking about mine.
I admit I had visions of Sarah coming from a long line of starters, but alas, the origin came just one starter generation earlier than Gardner’s, with someone who lives about a half mile from me, Niko Kamoto. Like many who use starter rather than commercial yeast, Kamoto finds that each loaf is different, but “you automatically know it’s going to taste good. Getting a good rise? The perfect crust? When you are on, it’s like a miracle. When you’re off, well, you have the makings of some great croutons.”
If I really wanted something with a long provenance, I could have gone over to Ebay and bought one purporting to come from Greece more than 300 years ago, or from San Francisco in the 1810s. For less than $10, either could have been mine. But I have to wonder, would it taste any different? Aside from the rush of “mine is an antique!” what do you gain?
That means that Kamoto’s and mine probably have a lot more in common genetically than mine and the baby I gave to my nephew Dustin. He dubbed it Fizzy Frank, and it lives in his fridge in Port Orchard, a few dozen miles from Sarah as the crow flies.
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