u/Blueskypieguy

\# A Small Guide — a “treatise” — on How I Acid‑Locked My Starter and Got It Back

I’m writing this because I misunderstood what hooch meant, and that’s what pushed my starter into acid lock. This is the short, accurate version of what actually happened and what finally fixed it.

\## \*\*How it started\*\*

I had left my starter in the refrigerator too long, and hooch formed. I had read somewhere that stirring hooch back in “makes it more sour,” so I went through \*\*three feedings\*\* where hooch appeared, and each time I stirred it back in. I didn’t know that hooch is actually a sign of hunger — it means the starter has run out of food and the acidity is climbing. Stirring it in each time just dumped all that acidity back into the culture.

\## \*\*The feed I was using — and how I got it back\*\*

During the days when the starter went wrong, I was feeding it:

\- \*\*50 g starter\*\*

\- \*\*100 g flour\*\* (Sams bread flour)

\- \*\*150–160 g water\*\* (WM spring water, warm)

It mixed thin, like pancake batter. At first it behaved normally — it rose, doubled, and fell — but after I stirred hooch back in during three separate feedings, the acidity spiked and the starter began collapsing into a \*\*rubbery, glossy, silly‑putty ball\*\* after each fall. The smell never turned sharp or acidic — it always smelled yeasty — but the texture told the real story. That’s when I knew it was acid‑locked.

\## \*\*What finally fixed it\*\*

I switched to a smaller, thicker feed and followed the same recovery routine for \*\*three full days\*\*:

\### \*\*Each day’s feed\*\*

\- \*\*20 g starter\*\*

\- \*\*40 g flour\*\*

\- \*\*40–60 g water\*\*

\### \*\*Timing\*\*

I fed it \*\*once every 12–24 hours\*\*, depending on how it looked.

If it showed bubbles or a small rise, I waited closer to 24 hours.

If it just sat there thick and quiet, I fed it closer to 12 hours.

\### \*\*What happened during those three days\*\*

\- The rubbery, glossy texture \*\*softened\*\*

\- The silly‑putty stretchiness \*\*disappeared\*\*

\- The surface turned \*\*matte instead of shiny\*\*

\- Tiny bubbles returned

\- The smell stayed yeasty the whole time

\- And by the end of day three, it finally showed a \*\*small rise\*\*

\### \*\*Why it worked\*\*

Those three days of 20/40/40–60 feeds slowly \*\*diluted the excess acid\*\* that had built up.

The fresh flour absorbed the acidity, the gluten rebuilt, and the yeast finally had a low‑acid environment where they could wake back up.

That three‑day stretch was the turning point — that’s when the starter came back to life.

\## \*\*The last 24 hours (the part that matters now)\*\*

Yesterday I fed it:

\- \*\*50 g starter\*\*

\- \*\*100 g flour\*\*

\- \*\*100 g water\*\*

It mixed stiff, slumped in the flask, softened, leveled out, rose, doubled, and fell — all normal. That told me the starter was fully recovered.

Today at 5 PM, I fed it:

\- \*\*50 g starter\*\*

\- \*\*100 g flour\*\*

\- \*\*150 g water\*\*

I let it sit an hour, then put it in the refrigerator. It’s resting overnight and will be ready to warm up and bake with tomorrow.

\## \*\*Why I’m sharing this\*\*

I’m not presenting this as expert advice. This is just the exact path I took to get my starter out of acid lock after misunderstanding what hooch meant. If someone else has a starter that rises once and then collapses into rubber, maybe this will give them a clearer starting point than I had.

\## \*\*Your turn\*\*

\*\*Have you ever acid‑locked a starter? What caused it, and what did you do to bring it back?\*\*

I’d really like to hear how other people fixed theirs — especially if your starter did the same rubber‑ball collapse mine did.

# Folks from Appalachia (and nearby places like Arkansas): Did the Critics Miss Something About *A Reckoning* (2018)?

I’m not trying to act like I know more than anybody here, so I hope this doesn’t come across that way. I was reading some of the critic reviews for *A Reckoning* (2018), and most of them wrote it off as “slow,” “boring,” or “nothing happens.” That seems to be the whole tone of their write‑ups.

But when I watched it, the pacing didn’t feel empty to me. It felt familiar — like the quiet, steady rhythm you hear from real people in the mountains and in places like northern Arkansas when something heavy is sitting on them. The dialogue has that plainspoken cadence I’ve heard my whole life:

• short lines that carry weight

• long silences that say as much as the words

• a slow, deliberate rhythm

• emotion held tight instead of spilled everywhere

• plain talk instead of fancy talk

The heroine especially talks like someone who’s carrying grief and duty at the same time — the way a real mountain woman or rural Arkansas woman might speak when she’s got to stand alone because nobody else will step up for the person she loved.

And here’s the part I keep thinking about:

Most of the critics judging this movie are watching it from big cities, loud places, fast places. They’re used to noise, speed, and constant motion. They’re not used to the kind of quiet that’s normal in the country. They’re not used to conversations where silence is part of the meaning. They’re not used to people who don’t dress up their words.

So maybe what they call “slow” is actually a kind of Appalachian‑and‑Ozark pacing they’ve never lived around. It’s not Hollywood slow — it’s life slow. It’s grief slow. It’s frontier slow.

I’m not saying I’m right — I’m just asking if anyone else sees it.

Does the dialogue in this movie feel Appalachian (or Ozark) to y’all? Did the critics miss something folks from here might pick up on?

I’m just trying to look at it with a different thought process than the critics used.

# Question for Folks from Appalachia: Does *A Reckoning* (2018) Get Our Cadence Right?

I’m not claiming to be any kind of expert, so I hope this doesn’t come across that way. I was watching *A Reckoning* (2018) again, and something about the way the characters talk made me pause. It wasn’t the usual Hollywood “mountain accent” people like to exaggerate — it felt quieter, steadier, more familiar somehow.

The dialogue reminded me of the kind of Appalachian cadence I’ve heard from real people in serious moments:

• short lines that carry weight

• long silences that say as much as the words

• a slow, steady rhythm

• emotional restraint instead of big speeches

• plain talk instead of dressed‑up language

Especially the heroine — the way she speaks feels like something a real mountain woman might’ve said when she’s standing alone because nobody else will step up for the person she loved. It’s that mix of grief, grit, and clarity that doesn’t need fancy words.

I’m not trying to say the movie is perfect or that I know the culture better than anyone here. I’m just wondering if anyone else noticed this. Does the cadence in this film feel Appalachian to y’all, or am I reading too much into it?

I’d honestly appreciate hearing from folks who know the culture firsthand.