What's the line between hobby and hostage situation? My friend Alex had a starter that basically ran their life. They forgot it at their parent's house once and their mom started sending these worried texts like "the jar is looking sad, did I do something wrong?" It makes you wonder if the warm bread is worth being on call for a moody blob.
Feel like I'm running a tiny gluten-free spa for a moody roommate who pays rent in bougie bread. Honestly, the future is probably just us all being indentured servants to our own jar of goop, waiting for it to bubble on its own weird schedule. The fad part is when you try to name it and give it a backstory, like 'this starter was passed down from my great-aunt's neighbor's dog'. Still, hard to argue with the future when it's a warm loaf right out of your own oven.