Apparently, you’re supposed to name your starter. Who knew baking came with this kind of responsibility?

My first attempt at a starter was homegrown—and gave me all kinds of trouble. As I muttered “Sour-Doh!” (channeling my inner Homer Simpson), the name Homer stuck. It just felt right for that stubborn little jar of goo.

Thankfully, my friend Dee came to the rescue with some of her fabulous, thriving starter. In her honor, I named that one Carroll—her last name.

Before long, both Homer and Carroll were bubbling away happily. But caring for two dough babies was more than this novice baker bargained for. So, I decided to combine them into one super-starter.

My sweet cousin Nicole had been guiding me through the process from the very beginning, so I named the final starter Elliott—her last name—as a thank you.