Lillian, A Start Up

 Lillian began life before her name as most of us do. She isn't human wholly, but in part, she could be. Some of my bacteria could be part of her. That's what starter is all about, not yeast as such. Lillian is sour dough starter and if you think starter is a mild little urbie term, it's not. The urban fadists: the kale, cauliflower, designer coffee, gym, bike crowd? Yes, that group. Even though I am ancient by age designation, I try to keep up. I went on line to research the making of sour dough bread because the idea intrigued me and like you, I am stuck at home these days. I make all of my own breads and being arthritically challenged, I use a bread maker as my mixing slave. All of the bits about  the making of sour dough bread which is my choice at a restaurant, sounded relatively simple given patience and time, which we retirees have lots of. I dived in. Dived is not an inept term as it turns out. Diving into the dough is a fact. First, you get your starter going. Dump a little flour into something clean and add water and go away and bacteria says, aha, a place to grow. And it does. Some people name their starters and when I saw mine bubbling and growing before my very eyes, I knew it was alive. Alive! What gives it life, could be you or any other bacteria lying around that gets into the flour and water and takes on a life of its own. As it bubbles away quietly in the corner for days, you feed it. That's right, you feed it. Take a bit out and toss it, then add more flour and water and off it goes again with the bubbling and growing. Lillian named herself. I am not sure if it was because I had a pale, whining little friend once when I was four, but it did look a bit like that Lillian. She had white blonde hair and whiter skin. The instructions I penned from the on-line cook, seemed rather useless because Lillian knew what she was doing. Our relationship lasted for a number of days as recommended by the sour bread folk, but today was the end. I needed the counter space and Lillian was now the size of her large glass bowl. She was glossy and when you touched her, she clung like a big white slug. Sort of like the real Lillian who was a hugger, too. Ugh. I wanted to give my Lillian a chance at life, and my bread maker had a "artisan bread" cycle. In I poured her. She pours like hot toffee before it's pulled.  Now we are ticking, I thought, when the bread maker boldly whapped Lillian about, or tried to, Lillian decided to take revenge. She grew up the sides and over. The machine tried desperately to get her under control, but she balked. Besides, there was smoke pouring out of the bread mixer due to bits of Lillian burning on the element. I swear she looked smug lying there all sticky, as I removed her and poured her into a baking dish. Now Lillian is sulking, but triumphant sitting in my oven with, I am sure her arms crossed, defying even the baking process. I didn't  bother with the cute little razor slashes they do, but I know why they do it. So does Lillian.