I'm new to baking and starters just plain scare me. Not as much as spiders, but it's a little daunting to think of this living breathing organism lurking about my refrigerator, making friends with those odd bits of leftovers I forgot about, plotting and planning, eager to either make their escape or make me their minion. Remember the movie Ghostbusters? Sigourney Weaver had an evil overlord living in her fridge that was once a cute little sourdough starter. Or at least that's how my admittedly overactive imagination sees it. Think about it: you feed it, hoping it will attract other yeast beasties in your neighborhood, then you slay it and throw half of it to the dogs. It's practically medieval. And yet. I love making bread. I never knew I could feel such a connection to it, such a sense of pride and accomplishment. There is just nothing like pulling a steaming hot creation out of the oven, with the scent of it wafting all through the house, and knowing that your two hands (and a kitchenaid) pulled it together out of practically nothing! I wonder if there's a name for an irrational fear of starters? Poolishphobia maybe? One of these days I'm just gonna do it and not look back. I don't wanna be scared of no starter. Sooo funny! If you do get a starter, you'll definitely have to name it Zuul! ~MaryJane

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