The Night I Finally Got It Right

I was ten when I got really serious about sourdough. My mom taught me how to feed Yeaston—yeah, that's my starter's name, because Easton plus yeast equals Yeaston, which I thought was genius—and for months I kept making bread that looked okay on the outside but was kind of dense and gummy inside. The crumb structure was all wrong. I'd watch these videos of professional bakers pulling apart loaves with these perfect open holes, and I'd be sitting there staring at my dense brick wondering what I was doing wrong.

My dad kept telling me to be patient, that business takes time, but honestly the business part didn't matter to me as much as just making good bread. I wanted to nail it.

One Friday night I decided to do a late-night bake. I fed Yeaston in the morning like normal, and my mom helped me with the mix and autolyse. But instead of doing my usual bulk fermentation, I decided to try something different. I did extra stretch-and-folds during the bulk, like five or six sets of them instead of my normal four. My mom was kind of skeptical but she let me experiment.

I shaped that loaf around 10 PM, and I put it in the fridge for an overnight cold proof and went to bed basically vibrating with nervous energy. One of the cool things about being homeschooled is that I can actually do stuff like this without worrying about getting up for school the next morning. My schedule is way more flexible.

The next morning I scored it really carefully, preheated my Dutch oven like I always do, and watched it bake. When I pulled it out, something was different. I could tell just by looking. The oven spring was incredible. And when I sliced into it—I actually held my breath—the crumb was open and airy, with these beautiful irregular holes running through it. The crust crackled when I pressed it.

That was the first loaf I made that I thought was actually good. Not just okay, actually good.

My mom came in while I was staring at the slice in disbelief, and she just smiled. She didn't say "I told you so" or anything. She just said, "That's what happens when you listen to your dough."

I've sold hundreds of loaves since then, and my regulars keep coming back, but I still think about that night. The one where I got stubborn and broke my own rules and actually discovered something.