The Long Pause.
For several months last year, as Grus’s dementia progressed, taking care of him became the only thing my husband and I really had time for. Hobbies quietly fell by the wayside. The garden went fallow. Crochet projects idled mid-stitch. My blog feed gathered virtual cobwebs. Wilby, my trusty sourdough starter, still got fed, but recipe testing halted entirely. Instead, we leaned back on old favorites (and an honestly heroic amount of takeout).
Then, suddenly, Grus was gone. And, just as suddenly, all the time we were spending on his care came crashing back in a disorienting wave. Because grief is strange, it felt wrong to return to old hobbies, as if resuming them too quickly might somehow erase the enormity of his loss. So, I filled my time in other ways.
How to Fill a Void.
For starters, I binged years of missed pop culture. Everything from comics of “Five Nights at Freddy’s” (meh) to tomes of “Dungeon Crawler Carl” (a surprising new favorite). I’ve read about a decades-worth of “One Piece”, so, basically, still just scratching the surface. My vinyl collection is growing. I’ve fallen back in love with low-budget, mid-quality horror movies. And, thanks to a camera-equipped bird feeder, I now have several bird buddies and squirrel friends—and that’s just about all the animal-nurturing I can handle right now.
Slowly, the garden is getting back on track. Recipes are once again “under development”. And, after putting in the emotionally painstaking work of writing Grus’s obituary, it feels good to be creating posts again too.
But Will Bloggers be the Next Travel Agents?
While I missed blogging, I’ve thought a lot about what I want out of it, especially in the age of AI. I realized that, even before AI, I was growing tired of the push to gear content towards search engines and social media algorithms. More recently, as AI has become “inevitable”, I’ve become annoyed by its appeal. When a chat-bot can generate a post in seconds that is much better search-engine-optimized than one that would take me days, it’s hard not to be tempted.
But, I didn’t get into blogging to please bots. And I certainly didn’t do it make bots writes things for other bots. I do it because I enjoy the process. Like with baking sourdough, growing vegetables, and taking care of animals, it’s more about the journey than the destination. Putting ideas to text is part of the journey I like, so I don’t want to lose it to AI.
Instead, I’m Gonna Party Like It’s 1999.
I’m sure nostalgia is stupid, and people today have it better than at any point in history, and blah blah blah. But I’m middle-aged now, so it’s my right to think I grew up in the best era, and kids these days don’t even know. I’m only kind of joking, because I will die on the hill that the internet used to be better. What once felt human and full of possibilities now feels corporate and full of ad-riddled slop.
But, as I’ve retreated back to physical media, I’ve become convinced there must still be a desire for human-made content that resonates in ways text generators can only poorly imitate. I’m still contemplating what that means for me and my blog, but, for the moment, I plan to make posts that are less frequent and, hopefully, more personal and engaging.
In short, less “what the bots like” and more “whatever I feel like”.
So I’m Making Room for Joy (And Pizza).
In the spirit of doing whatever I feel like, here’s one of the recipes I’ve been falling back on these past few month—one that reliably brings me joy no matter what else is happening. Because I’m never not in the mood for pizza. Especially sourdough pizza. So, yeah, this one’s been in the rotation.
It’s actually just a variation on my no-knead sourdough skillet pizza. Like the original, the dough is simple. There’s no kneading involved, it handles like a dream, it’s endlessly forgiving, and it can be topped however I damn-well please. Plus, the slow overnight ferment yields a sourdough flavor that is deep, complex, and completely irresistible. The major difference between this one and the skillet version, is that this one is what a pizzeria might call an “extra-large”. It’s enough for a small crowd, or—since I rarely have a crowd—plenty of leftovers.
Whether I’m navigating emotional turmoil, spending time in introspection, or just need a break from all the takeout, this is the recipe. I hope it brings you as much comfort as it does for me.
Large No-Knead Sourdough Pizza
Ingredients
- 426 grams (3 cups) bread flour
- 6 grams (1 teaspoon) fine salt
- 240 grams (1 cup) water
- 30 grams (2 tablespoons) active sourdough starter 100% hydration
- 25 grams (2 tablespoons) extra virgin olive oil plus more for the pan
- 21 grams (1 tablespoon) honey
- ½–¾ cup pizza sauce
- 2–3 cups grated mozzarella cheese
- Meat and vegetable toppings as desired
Instructions
- In a large bowl, whisk together the bread flour and salt.
- Add the water, sourdough starter, olive oil, and honey. Stir until a shaggy dough forms with no large dry patches remaining. Cover loosely with a towel or plastic wrap and let rest for 30 minutes.
- Using damp hands, stretch and fold the edges of the dough into the center until it forms a smoother ball. This is not the moment to aggressively manhandle the dough. Once the dry bits are incorporated and the dough looks cohesive, you’re done.
- Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled clear container or bowl. Cover and let rise until doubled in volume, about 8–12 hours depending on the temperature of your kitchen. If you think of it, perform another stretch and fold once or twice during the rise. If you forget, your pizza will still be good. Humanity persists.
- Once the dough has doubled, gently deflate it and fold the edges into the center again to form a ball. At this point, you can either move straight into shaping or refrigerate the dough for 8–24 hours for a cold ferment. The cold ferment adds deeper flavor and improves browning — a definite boon for crust enthusiasts.
- Generously grease a 16-inch round pizza pan (or 13×18-inch half sheet pan) with olive oil or butter.
- Place the dough ball in the center of the pan. Press your fingers around the outer edge first to establish the crust, then continue pressing outward from the center to stretch the dough toward the edges of the pan. If the dough starts springing back, let it rest for 5 minutes before continuing.
- Once the dough reaches the edges of the pan, cover loosely with greased wrap and let rise until puffy, about 2–4 hours.
- Preheat the oven to 375°F with a rack in the center position.
- Top the pizza with sauce, cheese, and whatever toppings your heart desires (or your vegetable drawer requires).
- Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the bottom is lightly golden. Carefully slide the pizza off the pan directly onto the oven rack and bake for another 5-10 minutes, until the bottom crust is golden-brown and the cheese is melted and bubbly.
- Transfer the pizza to a wire rack or cutting board and let cool for 5–10 minutes before slicing. This waiting period is cruel but necessary unless you enjoy molten cheese burns and structurally chaotic pizza slices.
