Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

Well…that didn’t last long. And I’ve posted about 24 times today but it’s fine…I’m fine.
Not too long ago I announced I was quitting sourdough. I was done. Finished. Retired. Before I even started the starter. I had decided to focus on eggs. Deviled eggs. Fancy eggs. Weird eggs. Eggs with things no reasonable person should probably put in eggs.
I was at peace with my decision. Then Amazon talked to me.. Apparently my self-control has the lifespan of a goldfish. So now, in addition to Butthead’s sacrifice and my ongoing quest to turn eggs into an art form, I will also be raising a sourdough starter. Which, if we’re being serious, sounds less like baking and more like adopting another pet

His name is Garth. Garth has not been born yet, but I have high hopes for him. Mostly because I just spent money on proofing baskets and enough sourdough accessories to make it look like I know what I’m doing. Do I know what I’m doing? Absolutely not. Will I pretend I do? Of course I will.
This is how middle age and perimenopause works. One minute you’re organizing spices and combining duplicate paprika jars. The next minute you’re watching YouTube videos on fermentation while a pork butt named Butthead bubbles away in the slow cooker and your daughter is quoting Toy Story.
So yes. I lied. I am not quitting sourdough. I’m just adding it to the list of hobbies I quit and then came crawling back to.
Party on Garth.