On January 29th, 2024, I made my first mistake as a husband – I ruined my wife's sourdough startup.

Don't ask me where or why making sourdough became so popular, but it's consumed my social media newsfeeds for the past three weeks. All I read is "my sourdough starter" this and "my sourdough starter" that, and all that means to me is that people are really into making bread.

Well, if making bread is cool, then count me out – I already ruined the most important step to making sourdough, and my wife won't ever let me forget about it.

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It was a 'Murphy's law' type of Monday where everything that could go wrong went wrong. It all started when I mistook my wife's face for my alarm, so when I went to snooze it, I ended up slapping her in the forehead by mistake (not the best way to wake someone up; trust me). Then I was almost late to work, followed by a nap that was two hours longer than I wanted, and now this whole sourdough mishap – I'm just about ready to call it a day.

Now, I don't know much about making sourdough, but what I do know is that the "starter" has to be kept in a warm environment around 70 degrees. An idle oven with the light on is just enough for the starter to begin to grow. I wish this was an easy process to start over, but she was already about four days deep, and this jar is cooked.

I wanted to surprise her with dinner, so while she was at the gym, I prepped some chicken tenderloins, seasoned them up, and preheated the oven, completely unaware that the sourdough mix was still inside. By the time I heard the oven beep to indicate that it was ready for the chicken to go in, I opened the oven door, and my jaw dropped (followed by a dozen obscenities I can't repeat). My mind knew immediately that I had messed up big time, and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped for a moment (a bit dramatic, I'm aware).

Gazelle/Townsquare Media
Gazelle/Townsquare Media

"I better pack my bags," I said to myself and waited anxiously for my wife to get home, unsure how to even begin the conversation.

To my luck (for the first time that day), she was not upset or mad and told me it was actually her fault for not putting a note on the oven door as a reminder. Again, how was I supposed to know that it was in there in the first place?

Thankfully, she had something called a "discard," which is a reserve starter in case something like this mishap occurs. Basically, it's safe to say that I don't have to pack any bags or sleep on the couch. I just have to be more mindful of the kitchen next time, or it's sayonara for this hubby (kidding, of course; she loves me, and I love her).

Let this be a PSA for all other husbands and wives out there whose partner is into this sourdough craze. May God be on your side, and may they have extra starter in the fridge.

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