If Your Sourdough Could Talk

It would probably tell you it’s all going to be OK, and then you could eat it.

A loaf of my sourdough, bread in a cloche.

Five years ago, my job as the editor of a small daily newspaper came to an end during one of many rounds of layoffs.

The death of my career was expected, but that didn’t mean I didn’t grieve hard when it happened. I cried every day. I went on a lot of long bike rides out in the country. And, of course, I made…