About Sourdough And Men

In which the writer attends a sourdough breadmaking workshop, and gets into covert competition with a man.

- Sheila Kumar

“This is the mother starter,” says Bengaluru-based Sour House’s Selvan Thandapani, who is guiding us through this Introduction to Sourdough workshop. We are five women aspiring sourdough bakers - and one sole male. “Do you bake sourdough bread often?” I ask the man in a carefully casual tone.

“Nope,” he grins. “I usually order from here - just decided I gotta learn how to bake it myself.” I look at him askance. He has the look of someone who doesn’t know much about this thing. Because, I have realised - through hard experience - that baking bread is one thing, and baking sourdough bread is altogether another loaf. Just creating and managing the starter itself is a move fraught with pitfalls - but Mr Man looks thoroughly relaxed.

Meanwhile, Thandapani is showing us a sticky white paste at the bottom of a mason jar. By the end of the workshop, which lasts for a little more than four hours, all of us develop a healthy respect for the starter, a respect that borders on reverence and, in my case, intimidation. In Mr Man’s case, though, I notice he is slightly amused by the starter, but he is making all the right moves. When it`s time to whip our aprons out of our bags and onto ourselves, his is a lovely one, on which Darth Vader is taking something out of a hot oven. I so want it.

I`ve baked this kind of bread many times before, and have produced nothing but hard, un-chewable, dense-as-hell results. Hence my respect for Mr Man, a complete newbie where sourdough is concerned; imagine wanting to try one’s hand at the toughest kind of bread.