Advice From a Rookie (Who’s Been Here a Year)
It Starts With a Question
One of the most heartwarming things that has come from bringing Art of The Crumb into the world is the conversation it sparks. Friends, old and new, often reach out with questions that go beyond just flour and water: "How did you start making sourdough bread?" "Is it hard?" "Did you ever want to quit?" "I want to do that too, how do I start?"
These questions always make me smile, because while they sound like they’re about baking, I know they’re truly about something deeper. They’re about seeking transformation, about finding something steady and joyful in a world that can often feel anything but.
So, from one rookie to another—because in this beautiful journey, I’m always learning—here's some truth I’ve discovered.
The Uncomfortable Truth No One Talks About
When people see a beautiful loaf, or hear about a new venture, they often see the "after." They see the success, the joy, the loaves baked and shared. But no one talks about the moment you almost quit, right before everything changed.
I can tell you, I had those moments. More than once. It didn't work the first, second, or third time I tried. I failed... a lot. There were deflated loaves, gummy crumbs, and more than one starter that seemed utterly lifeless despite my best efforts. In those early days, standing over a stubbornly flat disc of dough, the thought of throwing in the towel was very real. It felt easier to just go back to what was comfortable, to close the chapter on this new, messy experiment.
Outgrowing, Not Just Growing
Looking back, I realize that the hardest part wasn't starting; it was deciding I wasn't going back, even if I got uncomfortable. And believe me, I got uncomfortable.
There was a profound shift in my life when I realized, quite suddenly, that I had outgrown the life I once longed for. The familiar patterns, the expectations, the comfortable routines, they no longer fit. That realization spurred me on, even when every fiber of my being wanted to retreat. The most uncomfortable decision I made last year also paid me the most, not in dollars, but in peace and purpose.
I didn't feel brave in those moments. I felt profoundly uncomfortable. But discomfort, I've learned, is often the fertile ground where true growth begins. It's the stretch, the pull, the necessary tension before a new shape emerges.
Sourdough Didn't Just Find Me, It Shaped Me
As I shared in my first post, I didn't find sourdough, sourdough found me. It came into my life at a time when I needed something tangible to tend, something that asked for patience and presence.
But here’s the secret, the thing I think my friends are really seeing: the transformation isn't just in the bread. It’s in me. This journey, especially with Art of The Crumb, has been my process of leaning into my faith and God, and actively pursuing something that brings me immense joy. It’s a joy that overflows, a comfort that can be shared.
This chapter wasn't easy, but it was honest. It was about embracing the messiness of learning, the vulnerability of sharing, and the profound satisfaction of tending to something alive—whether it’s a bubbling starter or a calling in your heart.
So, if you’re asking "how do I start?", my advice from this rookie is this: Find your sourdough. Find the thing that pulls you into discomfort, that demands your presence, that makes you feel both challenged and deeply alive. Maybe it’s not baking. Maybe it's a new skill, a new path, a new way of connecting. Whatever it is, lean into it. Trust that the process, the journey itself, is where your true transformation lies. And know that you don’t have to feel brave to start; you just have to be willing to get a little uncomfortable.
Warmly,
Kathy
Art of The Crumb