(Southern) Sour Dough Bread

Southern Sour Dough Bread

As more distant visitors stop by the website and blog (and our studio), one area that I'd like to share is the best of the South.  Seems like the news only shows the "other" side.  And there is such a wonderful, thoughtful, creative, colorful side to our people and places that most have never heard of, I'm looking forward to sharing as I come across it.  But as (almost) always, with all honesty and in full disclosure, I will also share "the other side" when it bothers me or get my attention.

This little nagging pet peeve has been lingering for a few years.  And bubbled back up during our Saturday morning visit to the local farmers market this morning. 

It all started several years ago, when my hygienist started making bread and cookies.  I rarely eat sweets, but everyone raves over her desserts.  Then one First Friday she was displaying a one of my favorite things; sour dough bread.  I was so pumped.  I purchased a loaf, took it home, heated it up, and . . . total disappointment.  It tasted like dessert.  The next month I saw Laura again, and told her that someone must have enjoyed my sour dough bread, and that I ended up with someone's dessert.  Well, she quickly explained that "southern sour dough" bread is sweet.  -  Although to be clear, the note on the bread lists it as "sour dough".  She explained again, that I should know where I live, and that Southerners like it (everything) sweet.  Confused and disappointed, and gave it one last try.  Asking Laura if she'd ever been to San Francisco (no) or had she ever tried (non southern) sour dough bread (no).  My last question was why the heck does she even call it sour dough bread since there is clearly absolutely nothing sour about it.  Again, she had a great reply that the bread begins with a "sour dough starter". 

Again, this was years ago.  I clearly lost this battle, and if I was going to survive any future dental work I knew that I'd better quit while I was ahead.  And I did.  That is, until now.  Over the past year, this same Groundhog Day routine has been repeating itself - several times.  I'll find another vendor at First Friday street fair selling sour dough bread.  I'm pumped.  I buy.  I take it home and it's NOT SOUR.  Same thing at our Farmers Market.  Same conversation.  Same outcome.  Same disappointment.

The only thing I can come up with is that locals are knocking off Laura's bread, calling it the same thing Laura is, and selling it to unsuspecting locals.  Which, I might add are developing quite a following. 

Ok, to today.  Although there still is no sourdough bread at the farmer's market.  There is some amazingly wondeful fresh, real crusty savory bread.  Sorry I don't have any bread pics.  I was too busy sharing my excitement this morning.  But I look forward to taking some video's, spreading the word, and doing what I can to help this unique (in our community) true artist continue her trade for many many pounds to come.

Southern Sour Dough Bread

Oh, just to clarify.  I having norhin against sweet bread, cakes, pies, sweets, etc.  Just don't taunt us by calling it sour dough.  A few of us know better. 

 

Robin Wade
Robin Wade Furniture is a celebration of nature—a melding of a forward thinking commitment to the environment and a quiet, harmonious design aesthetic. From his "slow studio" in North Alabama, award-winning wood artist Robin Wade designs and crafts one-of-a-kind handmade furniture. Years before a piece is ready to enter a client's home or a gallery, the process begins—naturally—with the tree. Sustainably harvested, each specimen of hardwood is flitch sawn into natural-edge wood slabs, debarked by hand with a draw knife, and stacked to dry, usually for years, before the final cure in the kiln. From here, Wade and his team use both hand and power tools to bring Wade's vision to life, and then finish each piece with a hand-rubbed oil blend. Each organic furniture creation by Robin Wade Furniture balances the raw, natural beauty of environmentally, locally sourced hardwoods with minimally invasive, clean lines—a juxtaposition Wade calls both rustic and modern. “I haven’t yet found a better artist than nature,” he says.
robinwadefurniture.com
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Bill's Gamblin Hall - revisited