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A Love Letter to Fermentation— Our Shared Legacy
Baking, pickling and preserving: how an ancient bacterium nourishes us
There’s a corner of my kitchen I call the Fermentation Station — a name inspired by Bon Appétit (yes, I was a fan before the racism ).
It’s where King James, my sourdough starter, reigns supreme in a glass jar, bubbling quietly beside a SCOBY-laced vat of kombucha. The space smells like life — tangy, earthy, a bit wild. In this tiny universe, Lactobacillus — the bacteria responsible for fermentation — is queen.
What is it about this smell that drives me wild? It awakens my palate, singes my nose, waters my mouth. I feel ready to devour.
This humble bacterium is the magic behind some of my favorite foods: dosai, yogurt, pickles, sourdough bread. It tangs, it transforms, it preserves. It is ancient, silent, and deeply loyal.
But for years, it was only an unacknowledged presence in my life.
My love affair with it began out of necessity, in a cold New Hampshire kitchen thousands of miles from home.
How I fell in love with a bacterium
The first sourdough I ever ate was the one I baked.
