This is the guide we hand to anyone who takes a piece of Lagom home — the starter every loaf in this bakery rises on. Feeding schedules in grams, what the smells and the grey liquid actually mean, and the one case where you really do start again.
No packet yeast anywhere in it, and none in your loaf either.
Lagom is the Swedish word for not too much, not too little — just the right amount. It is the whole idea behind how we bake, so it felt right to give it to her. She started years ago as nothing more than flour and water left on a counter in New Windsor, catching the wild yeast that already lived in the grain and the air.
Day after day she was fed, and she woke up: bubbling, rising, smelling sweet and tangy. Every loaf we sell rises on Lagom alone, through 24 to 36 hours of slow fermentation. If you have a jar of her, it is a piece of the same mother culture. Feed her and she becomes yours.
— Lorraine, your baker
Four things, and none of them are special equipment
Unbleached, ideally stone-ground. Ours is milled by Don at Wild Hive in Clinton Corners.
Filtered, or tap left out overnight so the chlorine goes.
Clean, with a lid that rests rather than seals.
Grams beat cups every time. A starter is a ratio.
She is happiest between 72 and 78℉ (22–26°C). Lid loose on the counter, closed in the fridge.
There is no single correct schedule. How often you feed her follows how often you bake — the rest is arithmetic.
Daily, and she is always ready
Ready 4 to 8 hours after feeding: doubled, bubbly, smelling tangy and yeasty.
Once a week, about ten minutes
In the cold she sleeps. One feed a week keeps her strong between bakes. Skipped a week? Feed her twice.
The morning you want to bake
A cold, tired starter is not a dead one. It wants warmth and one more meal.
Three of these four are hunger. Only the last one is the end.
She is hungry, not spoiled. That sharp solvent smell is alcohol from yeast that has run out of food.
What to do. Feed her bigger: 20 g starter + 60 g water + 60 g flour, a 1:3:3 ratio.
Bakers call it hooch. Same story as the acetone smell, one stage further: she has eaten everything and separated.
What to do. Stir it in for a sourer loaf, or pour it off for a milder one, then feed 1:2:2.
Almost always temperature, not health. Under about 70℉ a starter slows right down.
What to do. Move her somewhere warm, 75 to 78℉, and give two steady counter feeds before you judge her.
This is the one case that is not fixable. Fuzz and pink or orange streaks are not sourdough.
What to do. Throw it out, wash the jar properly and start again. Do not bake with it.
Dried flour on the glass is where mould starts. Ten seconds now saves the whole culture.
Not because the old one is dirty, but because the residue up the sides is not being fed and not being eaten.
She breathes out carbon dioxide. Lid resting on top, not screwed down.
A cup of flour and a cup of water are not the same weight. The whole thing is a ratio, and cups hide it.
Warm speeds her up, cold slows her down. That is not a problem to solve, it is how you fit her around your week.
A starter is wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria living together. The yeast makes the bread rise; the bacteria make the acid that gives sourdough its flavour and its keeping quality. Neither was bought in a packet.
Lactic acid is the soft, yoghurt-like note. Acetic acid is the sharp, vinegary one. A cold, stiff, hungry starter makes more acetic acid, a warm and well-fed one leans lactic. You are adjusting flavour every time you choose where to keep her.
Lagom began as nothing but flour and water on a kitchen counter in New Windsor, catching what already lived in the grain and the air. No packet of yeast has ever touched her.
What you take out before a feed is perfectly good food, just not lively enough to raise a loaf. Our scones and chocolate chip cookies are built on it.
Every loaf we sell rises on Lagom alone, through 24 to 36 hours of fermentation. That slow ferment is what supports digestive health, deepens the flavour, and keeps the ingredient list short enough to read on one hand.
Stone-ground, lofty and mild. The everyday loaf.
European RyeDense, dark, deeply tangy. Old-world crust.
Naked Rye100% rye with rye berries baked in whole.
Cinnamon RaisinSweet, spiced, studded with plump raisins.
And on the discard: scones and chocolate chip cookies. Same flour, water, salt and time — nothing else.
We bake on Lagom every week in New Windsor, NY, and deliver across the Hudson Valley. If your own starter stalls — or you just want a loaf tonight — we are twenty minutes away.
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