The Leavening

Try making bread, everyone said. Flour, salt, water, heat. Tap the veins of civilization and marvel at the primal embers of human creativity that still glow within you. Alright, Spenser thinks. It might be fun to try. Spinning it silently in his own mind as everyday alchemy right there in his tiny kitchen. Flour, salt, water, heat. Earth, Ocean, Fire and Air.

The instructions for the starter are too simple to believe. 5 tablespoons flour, 3 tablespoons water. Mix, cover, let it sit. How can this work? Discard all but a tablespoon of the starter the next day and repeat. 5 tablespoons flour, 3 tablespoons water. Mix, cover, let it sit. Discard. 5 tablespoons flour, 3 tablespoons water. Mix, cover, let it sit. This ends up as bread?

For a while when he looks at the jar on the kitchen counter and thinks of the microbes at work, he is more than a little repulsed. Sour venom of disgust pooling near the back of his tongue. A flesh-coloured swamp of yeast and gas, burping and frothing in slow motion as it gasps for life. But he gets over this, and soon the starter is initiating the rhythms of his day. 5 tablespoons flour, 3 tablespoons water. Mix, cover, let it sit. Sometimes it’s the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up.

Two months later the starter is regularly doubling in size over the course of each day. Discard all but a tablespoon of the starter and repeat. 5…