I had to have a little debate with myself before I wrote this post. Many months ago, before this blog started, I was invited to a sourdough class taught by Jane Mason. This was in the days before I had to go bashing on about Real Food Bloggers, so I happily accepted her no-strings-attached offer to take part in the class.

Fast forward to today, and I had a dilemma: I thought her class was wonderful, far better than another (shorter) sourdough class I’d also been to. Unfortunately, by my own standards, I couldn’t in good faith give you a genuine review of the class, because I hadn’t paid for it.

In the end, I came to the conclusion: I would write about Jane’s classes at Virtuous Bread, because frankly, it was a great class and writing about it feels like the right thing to do. And my only defence on the cost issue would be: at the time, I was mid-way through burning a five-figure sum on culinary school fees, and in fact skipped over £100-worth of cook school that day to attend Jane’s class.

And, I have to tell you, it was well worth it.

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It’s a sunny day, and morning light glints off the Thames through open balcony doors and into Jane’s riverside apartment kitchen. I’m having a serious bout of home interiors envy, from the immaculate airy living room to the cosy long kitchen in which the class in currently lounging, sipping tea and coffee and nibbling on toasted sourdough.

Jane is a passionate teacher – but even better, she’s a reassuringly down-to-earth one. Sourdough can be a notoriously scary topic. I’d had one class where the teacher had made it sound like a cross between rocket-science and A&E – you had to treat your sourdough starter with kid gloves, take it on holiday with you, and basically, spend your life trying not to kill it.

Here, though, was a completely different philosophy. Jane told us the story of how she’d found a sample of her rye starter in the back of her fridge from five years ago. She got it out, fed it and hey presto, it came right back. Now that’s the kind of thing I want to hear.

The class are mostly sourdough nuts. One guy has driven down from somewhere up north and stayed in a hotel over night to come to the masterclass. A few are here because they come from countries with long sourdough traditions and can’t buy the breads of their childhood in the UK, so want to make their own.

We start a rye-starter-based country loaf, then retire to Jane’s aforementioned gorgeous living room to talk sourdough. How to start one; how to keep it going; why it’s good for you; and one nugget of advice I’d not heard before: never ever ever mix rye and wheat when feeding your starter.

(Okay, so now that I’ve ‘grown-up’ a bit in my sourdough adventures, I’ve found this not to be entirely true, but it’s still damn good advice when you’re starting out.)

Next up, a 100% rye loaf using a rye-starter. It’s like playing with clay; a total mind-shift for anyone used to wheat-based bread dough. We decorate ours with a blend of seeds and optional molasses, but then promptly forget the order in which we left our breads, leading to much detective work at the end of the class to determine whose loaf is whose.

We hand-shape our country loaves, then leave them to rise, either free-form or in bannetons.

Jane tells us about her work outside the bread classes. She bakes in a prison kitchen near London, teaching the prisoners to bake with sourdough as they’re not allowed to bring baker’s yeast into the building. She’s working on converting the chef’s favourite Italian breads into sourdough versions. She teaches in local schools. She also runs baking business workshops (her Bread Angels scheme) to guide people in setting up bakery businesses from home. She is, to put it mildly, a busy lady.

We roll out rye cracker breads and sprinkle them with aromatic seeds. The class is having such a great time chatting, we almost burn a few batches as they languish in the oven, unattended.

At the end of the day, we pack up our country boules, rye loafs and cracker breads, full in the knowledge that we can make great sourdough bread.

Sourdough is a huge topic, with enough to keep your learning for the rest of your life. Jane’s class is a fantastic introduction to this world, giving everyone the confidence to go out and get baking, without the Fear of Killing of Your Sourdough.

And after all, it only takes four days to make a new one. What are you waiting for?

For class dates and prices, see the Virtuous Bread website.