I genuinely think baking depends on your emotions.
That’s the only explanation I have for what happened in my kitchen today.
I used a recipe that has worked for me so many times before — a tried-and-true comfort recipe. The kind you can almost make from memory. The kind that usually makes me feel capable and cozy and like maybe I do have my life together for at least a few hours.
But today?
My sourdough tasted like absolute garbage.
And listen, I know everybody has bad baking days. Every cook burns something eventually. But this loaf felt personal. Especially because during COVID, I made sourdough constantly. Like the rest of the world, I became emotionally attached to flour, water, and fermentation. Back then, my loaves were good! They had personality! They tasted comforting!
Today’s loaf tasted like disappointment with a crunchy crust.
Maybe I rushed it. Maybe the starter was off. Maybe my measurements were weird. Or maybe baking really does absorb whatever energy you bring into it. Because some days you carefully knead dough while feeling calm and hopeful, and other days you’re stress-mixing ingredients wondering why nothing is working.
The good news is that bread can always be made again tomorrow.
And honestly? Maybe that’s why I keep baking in the first place.
