Oh, sourdough bread. The holy grail of quarantine hobbies, the pinnacle of pandemic productivity, and the ultimate way to humblebrag about your newfound “artisanal” skills. I swear, if I see one more Instagram post about someone’s “perfect” loaf, I might just lose it. The whole sourdough trend just makes me roll my eyes so hard they might get stuck in the back of my head.
Let me be clear—I’m a bread fan. Give me a slice of plain bread with butter any day, and I’m a happy camper. Whether it’s a classic white loaf, a hearty whole grain, or even some rye if I’m feeling fancy, bread is one of life’s simple, delicious pleasures. But sourdough? That’s where I draw the line.
First of all, making sourdough is like adopting a freakin’ pet. You’ve got to “feed” your starter, nurture it, and keep it alive, or else your bread won’t rise, and you’ll be left with a sad, dense brick. I don’t need that kind of responsibility in my life, thank you very much. I’ve already got enough on my plate without having to babysit a jar of fermenting flour and water. Seriously, why would I voluntarily invite that level of stress into my kitchen? I’ve got bills to pay, work deadlines to meet, and, oh yeah, a life to live.
And then there’s the taste. Everyone acts like sourdough is this magical, complex flavor experience, but let’s be honest—it’s just sour. It’s right there in the name. If I wanted something that tangy, I’d suck on a lemon, not ruin a perfectly good sandwich with bread that makes my face pucker. Call me crazy, but I like my bread to taste like bread, not like something that’s been sitting out too long and gone bad. It’s bread, not a science experiment gone wrong.
But what really grinds my gears is the way sourdough people act like they’re part of some elite club. They’ve got their Instagram posts showing off their “perfect” loaves, with all the hashtags: #SourdoughLife, #BreadGoals, #IHaveTooMuchTimeOnMyHands. Oh, and let’s not forget the smug captions about how their starter is “three years old and counting!” Wow, congratulations, you’ve managed to keep a jar of goo alive longer than most houseplants. Want a medal?
Meanwhile, I’m over here enjoying my perfectly normal, delicious, non-sour bread without having to deal with the drama of fermentation or the pretentiousness of it all. I’m not waking up at the crack of dawn to check on my dough or spending hours perfecting the art of scoring. You know what I’m doing instead? Enjoying my freakin’ life. And my bread. Which, by the way, doesn’t make me feel like I’m chewing on a rubber band.
So, yeah, I’ll take my normal bread, thank you very much. I don’t need a science experiment in my kitchen or a “starter” that’s older than my cats. I’ll leave the sourdough trend to those who’ve got the patience for it—and I’ll stick to enjoying my toast without any of that sour BS.
Stay snarky,
~ Rita 🖤