I killed my baby.

My baby sourdough starter that is. This is what it looks like now:



You can see the dark liquid sitting on top of the slurry-like flour and yeast mixture, and it just looks bad. I opened the jar and confirmed death. It's actually rather embarrassing because I purport to be this amateur expert of a baker, but it seems the amateur is coming out in this case.

There's something about bread-making that scares me a little. Maybe it's because there's less precision than in cake-baking or cookie making - it's a lot more about the senses. You smell the yeast, handle the dough, massage it into a form that you want - it doesn't have to be pretty, but it has to be something you are attracted to. There's also a lot more patience involved than in regular baking. Humidity, ambient temperature, the amount you beat your dough or let it rest - all foibles affecting the rise, taste and texture.

Bread-making is an inexact science that I am willing to try out, nay, determined to master.

So, I'm trying to make my own starter:



I am crossing my fingers something bubbles soon!