Some Things are Meant to be Shared • Notes from the Mountain

Some Things are Meant to be Shared

Notes from the Mountain • Issue No. 17

Notes from the Mountain is Mountain Goat Soap Co.'s weekly journal, where I share stories from the outdoors, the workshop, travel, and the everyday adventures that inspire both my life and my work.

I recently took up making sourdough bread. Actually, that's not entirely true. My younger brother made me do it. If you ask him though, he'd probably tell you I also recently took up asking a million questions. He lives in Pennsylvania. I live in Kansas. Yet somehow he's been standing beside me through the whole process.

He's the one who did the hours and hours of research, He's the one who watched a hundred YouTube bread-making videos and told me which ones were actually worth watching. He shared his starter and packed it for me to carry home on the plane. He sent me tools to get me started, answered countless text messages at all hours, and patiently walked me through feeding, stretch & folds, shaping and baking.

He's also witnessed every less-than-stellar loaf along the way. Every dense loaf, every UFO loaf, every "Why didn't it rise?" text. Every attempt that taught me what not to do. Then this week, I finally pulled a loaf out of the oven that looked like sourdough should. "Okay...now I get it."

I immediately sent him a picture even though it was 11:30pm. I was excited, but I think he was every bit as excited as I was. After all the coaching from 1,000 miles away, we finally had a loaf worth celebrating together.

There's something deeply satisfying about taking little more than flour, water, salt, and time and turning it into something that people have enjoyed for thousands of years. It also struck me that, for most of those thousands of years, there weren't proofing baskets, Dutch ovens, bread lames, digital scales, or endless YouTube videos. There was simply someone willing to teach.

Recipes weren't downloaded. They were passed from one pair of hands to another. From one generation to the next. From one family member to another. Maybe that's what I've enjoyed most about learning sourdough. Good bread begins with flour and water. Great bread begins with someone willing to pass along what they've learned. And for that, I am truly grateful.

This whole process reminded me of one of my favorite bars I make: Laurel Gold. It's inspired by one of the oldest soapmaking traditions in the world. For well over a thousand years, soapmakers in Aleppo, Syria, have crafted soap using little more than olive oil and laurel berry oil. The recipe has changed very little over the centuries, not because no one could think of a different way, but because they had already created something remarkably good.

Two completely different crafts. Two completely different parts of the world. But both built on the same idea. Simple ingredients. Patience. And people willing to pass along what they've learned.

We live in a world that constantly tells us newer is always better. Sometimes it is. But every once in a while, you stumble across something that reminds you there is real beauty in simplicity. A loaf of bread. A bar of soap. Both made from humble ingredients. Both refined over generations. Both proving that some traditions endure because they simply work...and because someone cared enough to pass them along.

My brother is already encouraging me to tackle a rye loaf next.

I'm pretty sure he's just looking for an excuse to answer a thousand more text messages.

From the Trail:

A short reflection inspired by the outdoors.

"Some paths are well worn for a reason."

More soon,

Dianne

Bring the outside in.