The Rural Voice, 2019-05, Page 14 Outside, the day has brightened, a
lighter shade of grey. High through
the window, above the neighbouring
roofline, the dark branches of an
ancient elm silently etch the sky in
their pursuit of light.
Eddie sees that water has collected
along the broken eave and then, as
though awaking from a slumber,
straightens his back, places brown-
calloused hands on the table, and
asks, “Care for a drive, my dear?”
“How could a lady ever refuse
such a chivalrous request,” Dahlia
replies.
They’re an odd-looking couple,
Eddie with his tall, bow-legged
gauntness and Dahlia, tiny and
bundled against the damp. She is
hatless but has a long scarf wrapped
about her so little more than her
bright eyes can be seen.
Eddie’s pickup is a couple blocks
away along a gravel lane at the edge
of town, his discrete route to his
stone house on the hill, a few miles
away. The ancient Chev still starts
reliably. Stopping, on the other hand,
requires a bit of patience.
“Any of your sourdough bread at
the farm?” Dahlia asks.
“Nope, but there’s a bit of starter
dough in the freezer. If you like I can
thaw it out but it will be day or so
before we see any results. Needs
recharging.”
Eddie reviews the process in his
mind. He started his latest dough last
fall during a warm stretch with a
handful of stoneground whole wheat
and enough water to knead. Put it in
a cup, cover with some plastic wrap
and leave it for a couple days.
Remove cap (the part of the dough
exposed to the air) and add more
water and flour. Then leave it again,
this time for a day.
“Goes back to the Egyptians, at
least that’s what I heard,” he says.
“The Egyptians?”
“That’s who figured it out.
Getting bread to rise. Yeast is
everywhere, even in the dead of
winter but there’s more around when
the weather is fine. That’s why I start
my sourdough in the fall,” Eddie
says. “Don’t need to start from
scratch today though, the starter is in
the freezer like I said. Just need to
make the bread and that takes a day
or so.”
“Seems like a lot of
work.”
“Once you have
your starter, it’s not so
bad. Once mine is
thawed, I’ll add some
water and more flour
and tomorrow morning,
we’ll start making the
bread. That means
more water and flour, a
bit of salt, let it rise,
punch it down, form
your loaf, let it rise
again and bake. I start
with a hot oven and
then turn it down.”
“You’ve got me
confused, Eddie.”
“Don’t worry, it will
be good. I can use some
rye flour if you like or
maybe cracked wheat. I like to mix it
up. No loaf exactly the same. Just
remind me to save a bit of the
dough.”
They emerge from the cab of the
truck at the top of the hill. Eddie
surveys surrounding fields and then
his yard with a critical eye. The big
soft maples have shed more than a
few branches over the winter.
“Let’s put the rest of the afternoon
to good use. We can have a fire later,
maybe even cook a couple taters on
the coals. Don’t like wasting things.
Even deadwood has its uses.” ◊
10 The Rural Voice
It all begins
with starter
from the freezer
Jeff is a
freelance
journalist based
in Dresden,
Ontario.
Jeff Carter
Recyling goes deeper than picking up deadwood
for a fire. For Eddie still trying to impress Dahlia, it’s
about saving that little piece of dough. You never
know when the urge for sourdough bread might
come over Dahlia.