OUR FAVORITE SOURDOUGH STARTER YEAST JASPER For Sale

Here\'sthe story:OFJASPER

In2016, we picked upJasperfrom (sorry we had to remove thename), a 3-star Michelin restaurant in Stockholm, Sweden. It was afamily trip with 7 of us: my parents, George and Anita, mysisterand her husband (Jackie and Danny), and Bryan, Lewis, and me. I waspregnant with Ella, so she was technically there too.

Theimpetus for this trip was that Rene Redzepi, the founder of Noma,which is located in Copenhagen, hadannouncedinearly 2016 that he was relocating his award-winning restaurant toSydney for ten weeks. The news almost broke the internet.Reservations for the 56-seat pop-up sold out in 90 seconds, with27,000 on the wait list. Meanwhile, back in Copenhagen, scoring areservation at Noma, which had previously been named the bestrestaurant according to the World\'s 50 Best Restaurants list in 2010,2011, 2012, 2014, and later 2021, became nearly impossible. Since wecouldn\'t land a standard reservation, my sister dreamed up a boldalternative: rent out Noma\'s private dining room for 12 and convincea group of her foodie friends to fly to Copenhagen for theexperience. And with that, our family food tour was set into motion!

Thefirst stop on that European trip was Stockholm, Sweden, a stunningcity filled with lush, verdant parks and long summer days. My dad,our family\'s original foodie, a skill her inherited from his mother,takes restaurant research and reservations as a personal mission. Itwas early summer, and asparagus was just in season, and it seemed toappear on every menu, in every form, everywhere we went.

Onour second night in Stockholm, my dad booked us a reservation atStudio (name taken out), then a two-star Michelin restaurant. Becauseof our \"larger\" group, we were seated in an intimate spotright next to the kitchen. From that vantage, we watched three youngchefs move with the precision of surgeons, yet with a relaxedcamaraderie that made their work feel approachable. There was a buzzin the kitchen, a kind of youthful energy that kept the atmospherefresh and unpretentious. Service was attentive and warm, which isalways hard to hit right.

Themeal began with a scallop dashi, a broth that nodded to Japan butcarried a deeper, meatier richness. A vivid green liquid rimmed theedge of the bowl, cutting through the umami with a bright, almostherbal sharpness. The dish stuck with me, not just for its flavor,but for its bold placement at the top of the menu. I’m used toAsian meals opening with soup but encountering it as a first coursein a Nordic setting felt both familiar and unexpected. The use ofscallops added a weightier depth compared to traditional kombu orkatsuobushi-based dashi. And while the green liquid played the samebalancing role that ginger might in Japanese cuisine, its distinctlyNordic character gave the dish a thoughtful, regional twist that Iappreciated.

Courseafter course came impeccable dishes, a beef tartare blended withchunks of aubergine that were texturally perfect against the beef(and the grainy mustard!), guinea fowl cooked so tenderly you couldtaste the wild, and a memorable yuzu sorbet sour enough tousher you out of the mains to a different portion of the night\'sevents, much like being taken to the drawing room for teatime.

Evenas the chefs continued to execute each course with precision, I foundmyself fixated on the bread, which arrived early in the meal. It wasa dark sourdough, much darker than the loaves I was used to, whichcaught me off guard. The crust was tight and deeply crisp, deliveringa satisfying crunch, while the interior was warm, soft, andunmistakably fresh. It was served with a smoky, salty, butter thatspread decadently with a wooden knife.

It\'sworth noting that in 2016, sourdough was having a moment. A friendvisiting from LA had just arrived earlier that year with her starterin tow. Before departing, she broke off some discard to begin a newcolony, much like Genghis Khan seeding his empire, only throughasexual replication. It felt like a calculated move to awaken somelatent, maternal instinct to nurture a strange, living flourcreature. But in the process, I learned to feed it, balance ratios,bake decent loaves, and get creative with discard, enough that Icould hold my own in a conversation about starter.

Thiswas why (name taken out) sourdough blew me away. Thetaste was incredible! It was tart and so flavorful, in a way that hityour nose and lingered. There was a complexity to the flavors, withtang layered on what tasted like ancient grains, with a subtlenuttiness. I kept coming back to the bread, marveling at the complexsmells and of course, the starter. Naturally, the servers and Iexchanged commentary about the bread - about my forays into sourdough- and why this one tasted so unique. That’s when they told meaboutJasper, the starter behind it all, originally “born”in 2001 and now, at the time, already 15 years old.

Atthe end of the meal, withJasperstill tugging at my mind,I mustered enough courage to ask our server if they might be willingto part with a bit ofJasper, so I could take him home. I’vealways been drawn to old stories, wisdom passed down throughgenerations, andJaspertasted like an old soul. There wassomething sacred about the idea of continuing that lineage. Theserver graciously checked with the kitchen, and voila! to my delight,came back with a plastic container with a bit ofJasperinside.I could hardly believe it! It felt like receiving something rare andquietly precious.

Icared forJasperdiligently as we made our way fromStockholm to Copenhagen, feeding him faithfully as we traveled acrossEurope. But when it came time to fly to the U.S., I panicked. Surelysomething as alive and unruly as sourdough, teeming with yeast andmicrobial ambition, would catch the attention of customs, rightalongside animals and plants. I worried that if I checked him in myluggage, he might freeze in the cargo hold, so I tucked him safelyinto my carry-on. Miraculously, we slipped through customs withoutincident.Jasperhad officially cleared U.S. borders.

Itinkered withJasperwhen I got home, but a few monthslater, my daughter was born, and with two young kids, there wasn’tmuch time left for sourdough experiments. I split him into two jarsand tucked them into the back of the fridge. Eventually, one grewmoldy and had to be tossed, but I couldn’t bring myself to throwout the other. I kept thinking about how alive he had once been. Whenwe moved in 2018, I packedJasperup with us, transferringhim from one fridge to another like a dormant dream I wasn’t readyto let go of.

Overthe years, I tried to shareJasper, most notably with our localbaker, who makes a tasty loaf that’s wildly popular in the area.But he’s particular about his starter and explained thatintroducingJasperwould require building a completelyseparate facility to avoid cross-contamination. Then came thepandemic, and with it, a nationwide sourdough craze as people turnedto baking during lockdown. A few years later, long after the initialfrenzy had faded, I was chatting with the grandfather of one of myson’s soccer teammates when I discovered, almost by chance, that hewas the top seller of sourdough starter on . And he lived righthere, nestled in the rural hills of California’s Sierra Nevada. Ihanded him my 8-year dormantJasper, and incredibly, he broughthim back to life, just in time for Easter.

Andthat\'s the story of howJaspercame to you, in flake form.Hope you enjoy him as much as we do!