A little over a year ago, I decided to jump on the sourdough bread bandwagon. If you’ve spent any time on TikTok, you’ve probably seen it. Beautiful loaves of crusty bread coming out of Dutch ovens, people feeding their starters, stretching and folding dough, and cutting into perfectly airy slices that somehow make homemade bread look easy. Of course, there was one small problem. I eat gluten-free.

I started my gluten-free journey about seven or eight years ago after doing some research about Hashimoto’s and the potential benefits of removing gluten from your diet. At the time, I was also dealing with a lot of migraines and thought going gluten-free might help. And surprisingly, it did. Since then, I’ve learned that being gluten-free isn’t always as simple as avoiding bread and pasta. Even now, I’m still discovering things that I’ve been eating contain gluten that I had no idea was there. I also still indulge in foods that contain gluten from time to time even though I know the repercussions.

One of the biggest adjustments was giving up bread. I’ve gotten used to the gluten free crusts, skipping the bun, passing on the dinner rolls, and watching everyone else enjoy the complimentary breadbasket at restaurants. And honestly, most gluten-free bread hasn’t made me feel like I was missing much. If you’ve ever eaten gluten-free bread, you probably understand. Or maybe you’ve ordered a gluten-free hot dog at an MLB game and received a bun that looks four times the size of the hot dog and immediately falls apart while you’re trying to eat it. At that point, you might actually be better off ordering the hot dog without a bun and having them hand it to you in the little white paper holder. Yes, that has happened too. Needless to say, I had never really found a gluten-free bread or bun that I thought was worth buying.

Then TikTok convinced me that maybe I could make my own. A friend of mine who is also gluten-free had started experimenting with sourdough, and I decided to give it a shot too. The first step was buying a sourdough starter because I wasn’t sure I was capable of starting my own – I have now that it’s been a while. One of the traditions of sourdough baking is giving your starter a cute bread-themed name. Naturally, I had to participate. Welcome to the family Waldough.

Waldough has been with me for over a year now, surviving regular feedings, neglect, refrigeration, questionable experiments, and more than a few moments when I wasn’t entirely sure either one of us knew what we were doing. Getting the starter going wasn’t actually the difficult part. Making edible bread? That was another story.

It took many loaves before I made one that was actually edible. Some were dense and gummy. Others were so hard and heavy they probably could have been used as a weapon. There were plenty of disappointing loaves along the way. I researched recipes. I watched countless videos. I experimented with different flours, techniques, and timing. And eventually, I found a recipe that was successful most of the time. And when you’re baking gluten-free sourdough, “most of the time” feels like a pretty significant accomplishment.

One thing I discovered along the way is that gluten-free sourdough is very different from traditional sourdough. It doesn’t behave the same way. It doesn’t always rise the same way. And it definitely doesn’t always look like those beautiful loaves you see all over social media. But just like the vegetables growing in my garden don’t always look like the perfectly shaped ones at the grocery store, homemade gluten-free bread doesn’t have to look perfect to taste good.

Interestingly, some of my favorite loaves have been the ones with inclusions, jalapeño cheddar, pizza bread, and chocolate chip.For whatever reason, I’ve had great success with those variations. The plain loaves are good too, although I’ve learned that I personally like gluten-free sourdough best when it’s toasted. And that’s one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned through this entire process: sourdough isn’t really a recipe you make exactly the same way every time. It’s something you learn. You learn your starter, you learn your dough, you learn how long it takes to rise in your house depending on the temperature, you learn your oven, and you learn when something looks right, even if the clock says something different. It’s a process from beginning to end. And sometimes that process works beautifully. Sometimes it doesn’t.

These days, I’ve finally found a rhythm that works for me. Instead of making one loaf at a time, I’ll usually bake a couple and freeze what I can’t eat within a few days. Then I can pull out what I need when I need it. Ironically, I actually think I like the bread better after it’s been frozen and toasted. And that’s coming from someone who never used to put bread in the freezer.

Waldough has taught me more than just how to make bread. It’s taught me patience, flexibility and the importance of being willing to try again when something doesn’t work. Because there are still plenty of loaves that don’t turn out exactly how I hoped. I’m still experimenting. I’m still looking for better recipes.

And every time I try something new, I have to be prepared for the possibility that it may not work. Sometimes experimentation comes with disappointment. But sometimes it leads to jalapeño cheddar bread that makes you forget all about those gummy loaves.

I’m currently using a recipe that has been one of my most successful so far, and I’ll share it in my Rooted in Favorites section for anyone interested in trying gluten-free sourdough. But my search isn’t over. I’m always saving recipes, watching videos, and looking for the next variation to try. Because that’s part of the fun. And honestly, that’s probably a pretty good reminder for life right now too.

Lately, life has gotten a little busier around here. My days are starting earlier, ending later, and I’m learning how to fit everything into a schedule that looks a little different than it did not long ago. I’m still figuring out the timing. Still making adjustments. Still learning what works and what doesn’t. A lot like sourdough, I suppose. Sometimes you have to give things time to rise. Sometimes you have to adjust the recipe. And sometimes you have to be willing to try something new, even knowing it might not work perfectly the first time. Right now, I’m doing a little of all three.

And while I’m still figuring out exactly what this new rhythm looks like, I’m learning that sometimes the best things take a little trial and error before they finally come together. For now, I’ll keep feeding Waldough, baking bread, adjusting the schedule, and figuring things out one loaf—and one day—at a time.

Thanks for being here. I’m glad you stopped by!

Kristen

Rooted in This Chapter