Sourdough bread has a reputation problem. Scroll through baking forums and you’ll find people treating their starters like temperamental pets, obsessing over hydration percentages, and posting crumb shots with the intensity of proud parents at a recital. It’s enough to make a beginner think sourdough requires a chemistry degree and a trust fund’s worth of free time.
It doesn’t. People have been making sourdough for thousands of years — long before anyone owned a digital kitchen scale or a Dutch oven. The process is simpler than the internet makes it look. You need flour, water, salt, patience, and a willingness to accept that your first loaf won’t be Instagram-perfect. Here’s how to do it, step by step.
Creating Your Sourdough Starter From Scratch
A sourdough starter is just a mixture of flour and water that captures wild yeast and bacteria from your environment. That’s it. No special ingredients, no mysterious cultures shipped from San Francisco. The microorganisms you need are already on the flour and in your kitchen.
Day 1: Mix 50g whole wheat flour (or rye flour — rye works even faster) with 50g lukewarm water in a clean glass jar. Stir until combined. Cover loosely with a cloth or lid set ajar — you want airflow, not a seal. Leave at room temperature (ideally 21-24°C / 70-75°F).
Days 2-3: You might see some bubbles. You might not. Either way, discard about half the mixture and feed it with 50g all-purpose flour and 50g water. Stir, cover, wait. The discarding isn’t waste — it controls the acidity and gives the right microorganisms room to grow.
Days 4-6: Things should start happening. You’ll see more bubbles, the mixture will start rising noticeably between feedings, and it’ll develop a pleasantly tangy smell. Keep the same discard-and-feed routine daily.
Day 7+: Your starter is ready when it reliably doubles in size within 4-8 hours of feeding. The “float test” works too — drop a small spoonful into water, and if it floats, you’re good.
Troubleshooting: If your starter smells like acetone or nail polish remover, it’s hungry — feed it more frequently (twice a day). If it’s sluggish, try using warmer water or moving it to a warmer spot. If nothing happens after 10 days, start over with a different bag of flour — some heavily processed flours have fewer wild yeast present.
Once established, your starter can live in the fridge and only needs feeding once a week when not in use. Pull it out, feed it, let it peak, and you’re ready to bake.
The Simple Sourdough Bread Recipe
This recipe makes one round loaf (boule). No fancy equipment required — a regular oven and a baking sheet work fine, though a Dutch oven gives better results.
Ingredients:
- 375g bread flour (all-purpose works too, slightly different texture)
- 75g whole wheat flour
- 300g water (lukewarm, around 27°C / 80°F)
- 100g active sourdough starter (at peak, bubbly and doubled)
- 9g fine sea salt
Timeline overview: About 30 minutes active work spread across 24 hours. Most of the time is hands-off waiting.
Mixing and Autolyse
Start by combining the flours and water in a large bowl. Mix until no dry flour remains — it’ll look shaggy and rough, and that’s perfect. This step is called “autolyse,” and you let it sit for 30-60 minutes. During this rest, the flour fully hydrates and gluten begins developing on its own, which means less kneading later.
After the autolyse, add your active starter and salt. The easiest method is the “pinch and fold” technique: pinch the dough between your thumb and fingers, then fold it over itself. Rotate the bowl and repeat for about 3-4 minutes until the starter and salt are fully incorporated. The dough will feel sticky and loose — resist the urge to add more flour.
This is a wetter dough than you might be used to if you’ve made sandwich bread. That’s normal and intentional. Higher hydration is what gives sourdough its open crumb structure (the big holes) and chewy texture. Trust the process.
Bulk Fermentation: Where the Magic Happens
This is the longest phase and the most important one to get right. Bulk fermentation is where your starter’s wild yeast and bacteria do their work — producing gas (which makes the bread rise) and organic acids (which give sourdough its flavor).
Cover your bowl and leave the dough at room temperature. Every 30-45 minutes for the first 2-3 hours, perform a “stretch and fold”: wet your hands, grab one side of the dough, stretch it up, and fold it over the center. Rotate 90 degrees and repeat for all four sides. This builds gluten structure without traditional kneading. You’ll notice the dough getting smoother, stronger, and more elastic with each set.
After the stretch-and-fold phase, leave the dough undisturbed. Total bulk fermentation time depends heavily on temperature — at 22°C (72°F), expect 8-10 hours. At 25°C (77°F), maybe 5-7 hours. The dough is ready when it’s grown by about 50-75%, feels airy and jiggly, and you can see bubbles on the surface and sides.
The biggest beginner mistake is under-fermenting. If your bread comes out dense and gummy, it almost certainly needed more bulk fermentation time. When in doubt, give it another hour.
Shaping and Cold Proofing
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Gently shape it into a round by pulling the edges toward the center, then flipping it seam-side down. Use your hands or a bench scraper to create surface tension by dragging the dough toward you on the counter in short strokes. You want a taut surface with a smooth top.
Place the shaped dough seam-side up into a bowl lined with a well-floured kitchen towel (rice flour is ideal — it doesn’t absorb into the dough like wheat flour). If you have a banneton (proofing basket), use that instead.
Cover with plastic wrap or a shower cap and place in the refrigerator for 12-16 hours. This cold proof (retarding) slows fermentation dramatically, allowing flavor to develop while fitting the bake into your schedule. You shape it in the evening, and it’s ready to bake the next morning.
Cold dough is also much easier to score (slash) before baking, which is a nice practical bonus.
Baking Your Loaf
Preheat your oven to 250°C (480°F) for at least 45 minutes. If using a Dutch oven, put it in during the preheat so it’s screaming hot.
Take the dough from the fridge — it goes straight from cold into the hot oven, no need to bring it to room temperature. Turn it out onto a piece of parchment paper. Score the top with a razor blade or sharp knife — a single decisive slash about 1cm deep at a 30-degree angle is classic. This controls where the bread expands during baking (the “ear” or “bloom”).
If using a Dutch oven: lower the dough (on parchment) into the hot pot, cover with the lid, and bake for 20 minutes covered. Then remove the lid and bake another 20-25 minutes until deeply golden brown. The lid traps steam, which keeps the crust from setting too early and allows maximum rise.
If baking on a sheet: place a metal pan with water on the rack below to create steam for the first 15 minutes, then remove it.
The bread is done when the internal temperature reaches 96-99°C (205-210°F) — or when tapping the bottom produces a hollow sound.
Let it cool completely — at least 1 hour, ideally 2. Cutting into hot sourdough is tempting but the interior is still setting. Cutting too early gives you a gummy crumb and releases all the moisture that should stay in the bread.
Common Mistakes and How to Fix Them
Dense, heavy loaf: Under-fermented. Give bulk fermentation more time, or use a warmer spot.
Flat loaf that spreads instead of rising: Could be over-fermented (the gluten structure broke down) or the starter wasn’t active enough. Make sure your starter passes the float test before using it.
Gummy interior: You either under-baked it or cut it too soon. Extend the bake time and be patient with cooling.
Bland flavor: The cold proof is your friend. Longer cold fermentation (up to 48 hours in the fridge) develops more complex, tangy flavors.
Crust too thick or hard: This usually means too much steam escaped or the bake temperature was too low. A Dutch oven solves this reliably.
Sourdough is forgiving in ways that people don’t tell you. Even a “failed” loaf is usually perfectly edible — it just might be denser or less pretty than you wanted. Each bake teaches you something about your specific flour, starter, oven, and kitchen environment. By loaf number three or four, you’ll have the feel for it. And once you’ve eaten bread you made from nothing but flour, water, and salt — raised by wild yeast you cultivated yourself — store-bought will never quite measure up.