Today, I was feeling a little motivated in the morning (a big win of late), so I dragged my sourdough starter out of the fridge and gave it a feed, thinking I'd give 100% whole wheat another go. (The last experiment, which was the 2nd, turned out almost great, so I'm pleased and thinking I'm on the right path with it.)
Since I seem to attract drafts no matter where I life, I stuck the starter in the oven with the light on so it had a still and warm place to grow.
Everyone knows the light isn't on unless I'm doing this.
Or so I thought.
I came downstairs from my few minutes with eldest's therapist after his session to find the oven pre-heating.
And my starter cooked.
After a near-hysterical meltdown (because my sister gave me that starter) and some time to collect myself, I judged that the very bottom of it might be salvageable.
So I stuck that in a bowl and fed it and we'll see.
I washed the usual jar (baked on starter is surprisingly hard to get off without a good bit of soaking) and tonight I'll transfer over some of the afternoon fed starter to the jar, give it another feed, and see again in the morning if we still have life or if it's just time to start over.
The teenager has been quiet and reserved since this afternoon. I think hubby may have called to explain that his initial response of, "I'm sorry but it's not a big deal." was not the way to go.
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