My Sourdough Journey: What Two Years of Bread Has Taught Me About Patience, Persistence, and Trusting the Process

About two years ago, I decided to learn how to make real sourdough bread. Not the kind with shortcuts or commercial yeast, but the kind that requires commitment — a living starter, daily care, and a whole lot of patience.

That first year was… humbling.

No matter how carefully I followed recipes or how many videos I watched, my loaves kept coming out dense, gummy, and disappointing. I tried adjusting hydration, fermentation times, temperatures — you name it. Some days the dough barely rose at all. Other days it looked promising until it hit the oven and fell flat. I questioned whether I just wasn’t “good at this,” and more than once I considered giving up entirely.

But I didn’t. I kept showing up.

Everything finally changed when I was given a piece of incredibly mature starter — over 150 years old. It felt almost sacred, like being handed a piece of history. That starter was strong, active, and alive in a way mine had never been, and working with it transformed my entire experience. For the first time, my dough rose the way it was supposed to. My loaves developed beautiful structure, flavor, and that perfect chewy crumb I had been chasing for a year.

That moment wasn’t just about better bread.

It was about realizing that sometimes growth doesn’t happen because we’re failing — it happens because we haven’t yet been given the right tools.

Since then, each loaf has taught me something new. I’ve learned to read the dough, to recognize when it needs more time or more warmth, and when the best thing I can do is stop interfering and trust the process. Sourdough demands attention, consistency, and respect for timing. You can’t rush it. You can’t force it. You can only care for it and let it become what it’s meant to be.

In many ways, sourdough has become a mirror for life. Some seasons feel dense and heavy. Others rise beautifully. But if you stay patient, stay committed, and keep feeding what matters, something good always comes from it.

Two years in, I’m still learning. Still adjusting. Still failing sometimes. But now I understand that every imperfect loaf is part of the process — and that the real success comes from not quitting before the breakthrough.

And the bread?

It just keeps getting better. 🍞