Make Your Sourdough Work for You
Not the Other Way Around
I used to think baking sourdough meant changing my whole life.
Strict feeding times. Digital kitchen scales. Loaves that looked like they came straight from a professional bakery in Paris.
And honestly? That version of sourdough stressed me out.
I tried it. For a while, I followed the routine I thought was the only way. I weighed every gram, fed the starter at the perfect time, and tried to control every part of the process.
But it never felt enjoyable. I was constantly worried that I was messing something up. My bread was flat, or too dense, or gummy in the middle. It felt like a chore, not a rhythm.
Then I came across a video of a woman feeding her starter and it completely changed everything for me.
She took the jar out of her fridge, poured out about half, scraped down the sides to get a clear view, then added flour by eye. Just enough to double the level. Then she poured in some water and stirred until it slowly fell off the spoon, something a little thicker than pancake batter. She added a touch more water and said, that looks good.
No measuring. No overthinking. No need to be exact.
I remember sitting there kind of stunned.
I had spent so much time trying to get it “right” and here she was just winging it and clearly thriving.
I wish I could remember who she was because I would personally call and thank her for changing my life. Dramatic? Maybe. But also true.
That video was the first time I realized sourdough could bend to my life. I did not have to rearrange everything around it.
And once I let go of the pressure to do it perfectly, everything started turning out better.
Not just the bread. The process too.
Why It Matters
I started baking sourdough because I wanted fewer ingredients in the food my family eats. I loved the idea of homemade bread that felt simple and nourishing. Something real, something I could make with my own hands, something that did not come with a list of preservatives I could not pronounce.
But I did not love the idea of obsessing over ratios or feeding schedules. I did not want another thing on my plate that felt rigid or fragile. And for a while, I thought that was the only way to make sourdough work.
Then I let go of the idea that it had to be perfect. I stopped trying to make it look like someone else's loaf and started making it work for our life. And something shifted.
My loaves actually started turning out better. I felt more relaxed and more confident. I started enjoying the process instead of dreading it. And most importantly, I was more likely to keep doing it.
Just like with the rest of my life, sourdough works better when I let it be flexible. When I stop forcing it to be something it is not.
My Current Sourdough Rhythm
Here is what my sourdough routine looks like now. Nothing fancy, just something that fits into our actual life.
I bake two loaves on the weekend when I can. They usually last us through the week.
I keep my starter in the fridge during the week so I do not have to feed it every day.
I feed it Friday night and bake on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what else we have going on.
If I forget to bake, or if the dough does not rise well, I bake it anyway. Always bake it. It might surprise you and come out just fine.
If the dough turns out too slack to shape, I just switch gears and make focaccia bread instead. It comes out a little more dense and really only stays good for a day or so, but it still feels like a win.
And if a loaf turns out truly inedible, which thankfully does not happen often, I turn it into something else. Bread pudding is one of my go-to moves. I made a breakfast version recently that was way too sweet, but still delicious. I would definitely make it again with a lot less sugar. Croutons from stale sourdough are amazing and never last long in our house.
And when all else fails? Toss it to the chickens. Those little garbage disposals are always happy for a hunk of bread.
My Go-To Sourdough Recipe
This is the base recipe I use every time, and I don’t stress if the measurements are a little off. It still turns out great.
Sourdough Loaf
660 grams water
180 grams active starter
1050 grams flour
20 grams salt
Here’s how I make it:
Mix the water and starter, then add the flour and salt
Do 2 to 4 stretch and folds every 30 minutes (or whatever you have time for)
Cover and leave it on the counter overnight
Divide into two halves and place in bannetons
Cold proof in the fridge for 1 to 3 days
I usually bake one loaf after the first day and leave the other until I have time.
I have found that the longer it stays in the fridge, the more sour the flavor becomes. That is because even though the yeast slows down in the cold, the good bacteria keep working. They are what give sourdough its signature tang. That extra fridge time also starts breaking down the gluten and phytic acid in the flour, which makes it easier to digest for a lot of people—especially if you are sensitive to grains. So yes, letting the dough sit a little longer really does make a difference in both taste and nutrition.
How I Bake It
Heat oven to 450°F
Place dough in a Dutch oven on parchment paper, make a large score on top
Add a few ice cubes under the parchment to help soften the crust
Turn oven down to 400°F and bake 30 to 40 minutes with the lid on
Take off the lid and bake 10 to 20 minutes more, until it’s the color I like (light golden brown)
What I’ve Learned from Failing Loaves
Not every loaf is beautiful. Some go straight into bread pudding.
Some become croutons. Some go to the chickens.
And that’s fine.
I’ve learned to stop overthinking and just keep baking. If my starter feels weak, I’ll feed it a few days in a row before baking again.
I don’t know if that’s “correct” but it works for me. And that’s what matters.
If you’re new to sourdough or burned out from trying to make it “perfect,” let this be your permission to chill out.
You don’t need to weigh every gram or follow a textbook schedule.
Just feed it, bake it, and see what happens.
Some loaves will be amazing. Some will be a little weird. All of it is part of the process.
Sourdough is more forgiving than it gets credit for—and so are you.
Let me know if you want a printable version of this recipe or a cheat sheet you can hang on the fridge. I can also help turn this into a Pinterest pin next.