Week three will likely, unfortunately, be remembered by the finish.

Week three started strong, but belched to an end. Literally.

On Monday, my new tablemates were Perry, the young talker from New York; Felicia, the mom from China who lives in San Francisco; and Juan, the soft-spoken hard worker from Puebla, Mexicio. Our topic this week was baking with wild yeast, also known as sourdough. (In case you are wondering, this style of baking does not necessarily yield a sour-tasting bread, though it can. Most modern artisan bakers bake sourdough with the goal of achieving a not-too-acidic product, but with much more flavor and digestive benefits than breads baked solely with commercial yeast.)

Before I left for school, I’d been maintaining a mother for about a year and a half. I briefly thought about bringing it with me and maintaining it here, but then I came to my senses. When would I ever use it? Why go through the hassle? Jeff thought it sacrilige to unceremoniously toss something I’d fed and doted over practically every day for more than a year. And I did feel a little guilty. Thankfully, Miyuki validated my decision. Sourdough mothers take on the characteristics of whatever place they are in; they change because of the natural flora present in the air. So I would not be retaining the Portland-ness of my mother had I brought it to San Bruno. Mothers are also continually regenerated, and while a strong, vigorous mother is necessary for successful leavening, it’s more of a romantic notion to tout the age of a mother. A 100 year old mother is no more or less effective than a newer one as long as they’re both healthy and vigorous. Whew. I had thanked Shirley, my mother, for all the beautiful breads she contributed to. She will get a revival upon my return home.

Though I’d been baking naturally leavened breads for a while now, they have been a mystery to me. And honestly, after a week of working with sourdough in the lab, I can’t say I’ve got it 100% figured out. But we did bake a number of beautiful loaves this week, some augmented with commercial yeast and others not: sourdough rye, multigrain, while wheat, semolina, double hydration ciabatta, several versions of country bread (some with retarded dough, others not), olive bread, cranberry walnut bread, challah, chocolate bread, and others.

We also concentrated on the effects of retarding: slowing down fermentation activity by refrigerating dough at various stages. It’s a process that can change the flavor and appearance of the bread — positively or negatively, depending on your preferences — but has great benefits for the quality of life for the baker. I don’t know why a bakery would have overnight bakers when they can simply retard their dough. (Says the person who never has owned a bakery or worked in bakery production.)

It was a good week. Wednesday night, our table got into the weeds at the end of the day. In addition to scaling ingredients for the next day’s breads, our table also had to feed the two mothers, perpetuate our newly-started culture, and clean the ovens. It was a bit much and we became overwhelmed, causing some frustration. But we made it through.

Thursday night, the night before I was to come home for a short weekend, I went out with Mindy and Vie for dinner. We stopped at Dumpling Empire in South San Francisco and shared a simple, tasty meal. I can barely stand to think of it now because later that night I experienced the Revenge of the Dumplings. It was not pretty. In fact, looking at pictures in my photo library makes my stomach lurch. I’m still feeling the effects on Sunday.

Determined, I tried to rally for school on Friday. My packed bag with me, I did make it to school, but was unable to stay. Whatever hit me, hit me hard. (Neither Vie nor Mindy had trouble and we shared everything. So it’s likely not food poisoning.) I left school after being there for about 45 minutes, and I didn’t get to bake anything. Most disappointing was that I wouldn’t have any bread to bring home as I’d hoped.

So my first weekend home has been a bit of a bust. I spent most of the time in bed and ate only a box of crackers, a couple bananas, and tea. The cat is so unsure of my sudden reappearance that he has offered no comfort when I needed it most. Still, it has been so good to be home. So good to see my sweet. I miss him so much.

Here’s hoping this dumpling flu passes by tomorrow. Week four is on deck.