It's alive!

As I anticipated, the first loaf after I thawed my sourdough starter was not the best loaf ever: in fact - and I hadn't expected this - it was pretty certainly the worst. The dough, while it was proving, showed some signs of rising, but in the oven it actually seemed to sink: what came out was a dense slab. I sliced it, toasted it and ate it. I'd rather eat the bread I bake, which tastes of something, than the ultra-processed white which Patrick Campbell referred to as "boiled babies' blankets."

I eyed the re-started starter nervously. It was bubbling, but it looked very sluggish. I was braced for a slow and gradual process of recovery, but I really didn't want another brick like the last one. But I took the plunge, made a walnut loaf - and it rose beautifully. If anything, it rose too high: the morning after it came out of the oven, it was still a challenge to slice it.

Was it a fluke? No: yesterday's loaf (rye with a spoonful of leftover rice) was also a success. So I'm thinking that in future I should thaw the starter and use it to seed the starter, but discard what would usually go to bake the next loaf. It feels wasteful, but I'm only going to eat a finite amount of bread in my life, and it's even more of a waste not to enjoy it.