• Give A Hearty Welcome To…

    …the newest member of our family: Our whole wheat starter baby!


    I conceived this baby two days ago, Tuesday morning, by putting one cup of white starter in a clean half-gallon jar, adding 1/4 cup whole wheat flour and ½ cup water, and voila! I had me a new baby!

    I feed it three times a day, like the other baby. I think you’re supposed to wait for three full days of feedings before using the starter in bread, but I’m going to cheat and start a batch of bread today, after only two full days.

    The feeding schedule for a whole wheat starter is as follows:

    In the morning put one cup of starter (only use the white starter once, just to get it going—from then on reserve one cup of the whole wheat starter every morning) in a clean jar, add 1/4 cup whole wheat flour and ½ cup water. Give the slurry a good stir, lightly secure the lid, and set the jar out of the way on the kitchen counter or up on the fridge.

    At noon, or four to six hours later, add ½ cup whole wheat flour and 3/4 cup water.

    In the evening, or four to six hours later, add one cup of whole wheat flour and 1 ½ cups water.

    This is a much more runny starter than the white starter, the water and flour separates, and it just doesn’t look like it’s doing much. But it makes excellent bread, as I will soon show you!


    Note: If you make the Farmer Boy Pancakes with whole wheat starter, you will need to add some extra flour, either white or whole wheat, or another one of your choosing, to thicken up the batter. Or you can combine both the white and whole wheat starters in the recipe—that is, if you have both babies going simultaneously.

  • Elaboration

    Re Comparisons:

    I occasionally get paralyzed by my life.

    “Occasionally” means several times a day. “Paralyzed” means that I walk from the kitchen sink to the back door to the back hall to the table to the desk and back again, all the while attempting (in vain, I might add) to get my kids to stop fighting, stop fussing, and stop moping and just go out and play. Or else quietly (and cheerfully) do their chores or their school work or something. Anything! Just. Leave. Me. Alone. Allow me the pleasure of an uninterrupted stream of thought for three consecutive minutes. Please! Please! PUL-EEZE!

    So I run laps, bark orders, usher the kids out of the room, separate them yet again, and before you know it all my energy has trickled out of me so that even when the children are finally out of my hair, I find myself mindlessly walking in circles or gazing out the window, unable to muster the energy to do any of the tasks on my list.

    And then it’s suppertime so we eat eggs.

  • Comparisons

    In my Hidden Kitchens book I read about a woman who ran a take-out service from her home. It eventually turned into a house-restaurant, of sorts, all undercover because she was serving both blacks and whites and this was in the South back in the 50s. She had six children, she weighed about 400 pounds (Dr. Martin Luther King called her Tiny and she called him, as well as everyone else, Heifer), and she turned out tremendous quantities of food to feed the multitudes.

    I told this to my Girlfriend Shannon and she said, “Yeah, and Sacajawea led the Lewis and Clark Expedition with a baby on her back.”

    So why do I have so much trouble making supper and hanging up the laundry?