Daphne's Sourdough Starter and Bread

Lubbock, 1994: From the street, our two Lubbock 1980’s suburban houses looked nearly identical. Daphne and Gary’s house next door had the same courtyard-style entry as my rental. The speckled orange and brown brick exteriors were the same, but their eaves, trim, and garage door were painted dark brown whereas ours were tan.

Inside, the floor plans were identical: 1600 square feet provided 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a breakfast nook, a living area, and laundry room. A good-sized fenced backyard behind each house kept their three shih-tzus and our little mutt Honey from wandering the neighborhood. I was well aware how fortunate I was to find such a nice house within my budget as a graduate student and single mom. Like me, Gary, in his mid-50s, was also a late-blooming graduate student, having retired from the U.S. military a few years earlier.

And then there was Daphne: charismatic, pragmatic, smart, sharp-tongued, and . . . old. At least 80. And a wee bit odd. She and Gary had lived in England for years, and though they were both very American, Daphne had picked up a British accent. She kept her waist-length gray hair knotted on top of her head.

I first met Gary and Daphne the summer of 1994, just after they moved in. They stood in the yard yelling directions at the movers unloading a huge moving van packed floor to ceiling. I was certain only half of it would fit in their house (and I was right). Much of what was sliding down the ramp looked like it had come straight out of an aviation museum: polished pairs of wooden airplane propellers, carefully padded glass showcases that would later display collections of 1930s pilots’ gear and memorabilia from both world wars. Dozens of boxes held numerous patterns of old English china.

Gary approached me and introduced himself as I unloaded kids and groceries from the car.

I glanced at the elderly woman giving directions to the movers. “And that’s your mother?”  

“No, that’s my wife Daphne,” he said cheerfully. A look of horror came over me as I realized my faux pas.

Gary―always affable, forever chatty―chuckled at my response. “Don’t worry, lots of people make that mistake.”

And that was my first introduction to his love of old things.

Months later, when the temperature in Lubbock dropped down into the 20s at night, I was puzzled to hear their air conditioner kick on at bedtime. Puzzled at first, then dumbfounded when it sank in.

But seriously, try this bread! Daphne served it to all of their many dinner guests, sent extra loaves home with most of them, and everyone always raved about it. I lost the original recipe; it took me years of internet searching to find something even close. This is the result of much tweaking to get it to taste like hers.  

 Makes one loaf.

Starter

Mix and let sit, lightly covered, at room temperature for 1 - 5 days, until sour-smelling. Stir daily. After that, refrigerate . . . . . . . .

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1 c. warm water ¼ c. sugar ¼ c. instant potato flakes 1 pkg. active dry yeast

Bread

Whisk together . . . . . . . . . . . . . Add in to make a stiff batter, stir mightily for one minute . . .

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1 c. starter ½ c. warm water (can sub milk*) ¼ c. oil or melted butter (optional but it does prolong the shelf life) ¼ c. sugar (optional, but Daphne’s bread was very sweet!) 2 ½ - 3 c. flour 2 t. salt

Pour the batter into a parchment-lined loaf pan. Cover lightly and let rise overnight. It should double in size, but there won’t be a “dome” because it’s batter. Preheat oven to 400°. Put the bread in the oven and immediately turn it down to 350*. Bake for 30 - 40 minutes, until light brown on top. Cool completely.

Notes:

1. To feed: use the starter recipe but omit the yeast.

2. The starter will keep unfed in the refrigerator for weeks, possibly months.

3. You can feed it right before using it, but it won’t rise as much. Ideally, feed the day before.  

4. Use the discard when baking in recipes that call for buttermilk: pancakes, cakes, muffins, etc.

5. The texture is delightfully chewy; the taste is nicely sour and sweet at the same time.

6. Unlike most homemade bread, this bread stays soft for days and, unlike sourdough, it’s easy to slice.

7. If you use more sugar, you’ll have a slower rise, but the bread is then absolutely heavenly served warm, almost like pound cake.

*Daphne’s original recipe (now lost) called for milk, not water.

Fact: Parts of The Palace of Versailles were once used as a medieval museum, but you had to be wearing silver shoe buckles and carrying a sword to enter.