Meet Lady CoHo: My New 116+ Year-Old Sourdough Pet

Meet Lady CoHo: My New 116+ Year-Old Sourdough Pet

Some gifts come with a story. Others come with a little piece of Alaska's history—and in my case, a new pet!

The very beginning of my sourdough journey, which started just a few weeks ago, took an unexpected turn when I received a very special gift from Dianne McLean and her husband, Jan Gunderson, of Soldotna, Alaska. After I made a simple request for a historical sourdough starter in a Facebook post, they gifted me a starter with a reported history spanning more than 116 years, originating at the historic Cordova House, affectionately known as the CoHo, in Cordova, Alaska.

What makes this starter so special isn't just its reported age. It's the people who have cared for it, the places it has traveled, and the stories that have been passed along with it.

So, naturally, I had to dig a little deeper into the history of Cordova, the legendary CoHo, and the sourdough tradition that brought this little piece of Alaska's past—and my new pet—into my kitchen.

A Brief History of Cordova, Alaska

Located on Orca Inlet in Prince William Sound, Cordova is surrounded by the spectacular coastal landscapes of Southcentral Alaska. Its history reaches back long before the arrival of European explorers and railroad builders, with generations of Alaska Native peoples, including the Eyak, Chugach, Tlingit, and Ahtna, maintaining deep connections to the region.

The name Cordova traces back to Spanish explorer Salvador Fidalgo, who named the inlet Puerto Cordova in 1790. The modern town began taking shape in 1906, when railroad builder Michael J. Heney selected the area as the coastal terminus for the Copper River and Northwestern Railway.

The railroad was built to transport copper from the exceptionally rich Kennecott mines in the Wrangell Mountains to the coast for shipment to markets beyond Alaska. Its construction brought workers, businesses, lodging houses, restaurants, and a growing community to Cordova.

When the railroad ceased operations in 1938, commercial fishing increasingly became the backbone of the local economy. Cordova developed a reputation for its salmon fisheries and, during the twentieth century, its razor clam industry.

The community has endured significant challenges, including the 1964 Good Friday earthquake and the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill. Through it all, Cordova's connection to its waters, its fishing traditions, and its tight-knit community has remained central to its identity.

Like many Alaskan communities, Cordova also developed its own food traditions and gathering places. Among them were cafés and lodging houses where people could find a hot meal, share stories, and enjoy the familiar taste of home.

One of those places would become particularly memorable to sourdough enthusiasts.

The Cordova House: The Legendary CoHo

The Cordova House, affectionately known as the CoHo, was one of Cordova's historic gathering places.

Originally established as the Cordova Lodging House, the building was constructed in 1908 during the early years of the railroad town. The original two-story structure gained a third floor in 1910, reflecting the growth and activity of the young community.

Over the decades, the CoHo became much more than a place to stay. It was a local institution, remembered for its bar, pool table, jukebox, dance floor, and lively atmosphere.

But for those who remember its food, the café in the back deserves a special mention.

The CoHo's café became famous for its sourdough pancakes, a hearty Alaskan favorite that fit perfectly with the working-town atmosphere. Whether someone was coming off a shift, passing through town, or meeting friends, a plate of hotcakes was part of the experience.

The original Cordova House was demolished in November 2019 after years of deterioration. Although the building itself is gone, the stories surrounding it remain part of Cordova's local history.

And among those stories is the remarkable sourdough tradition that lives on through starters passed from one caretaker to the next.

Alaska's Sourdough Tradition

Long before commercial yeast was readily available in remote Alaskan communities, sourdough starters provided a reliable way to leaven bread, pancakes, biscuits, and other staples.

A starter is a living culture of wild yeasts and bacteria maintained with flour and water. With regular feedings and proper care, it can remain active for years, potentially passing from one generation of bakers to another.

During Alaska's gold-rush era and the years that followed, sourdough became closely associated with miners, prospectors, and settlers. The word sourdough eventually became a nickname for an old-timer who had spent years living in the North.

A starter was a practical possession, but it could also become something much more personal. People shared portions with friends, carried them between camps and communities, and passed them down alongside recipes and family traditions.

Cordova developed its own sourdough legacy, including the celebrated pancakes associated with the CoHo's café. The town's Pioneer Café also became known for its sourdough hotcakes, representing another chapter in Cordova's culinary history.

These establishments were part of a time when a good sourdough starter could be one of a café's most valued ingredients. It wasn't something you could simply replace with a packet from the grocery store. It required care, consistency, and someone willing to keep feeding it.

And that brings me to the starter that eventually found its way to me.

The Journey from the CoHo to Soldotna

This is where Dianne McLean and Jan Gunderson come into the picture.

Dianne shared the story of how the starter made its way from the CoHo in Cordova to their home in Soldotna, and it's one of my favorite parts of this whole adventure.

Jan was a helicopter pilot who flew out of Valdez and frequently had work in Cordova. During one of those trips, he went to the CoHo's café and asked if he could have a little cup of their sourdough starter.

And they gave him some!

Jan eventually brought the starter home to Dianne in Soldotna. This happened in either 2003 or 2004. According to Dianne's recollection, the woman at the café told Jan that the starter was already 94 years old at the time.

Think about that for a moment...

The starter's lineage would reach back to approximately 1909 or 1910—right around the period when Cordova was growing into a busy railroad town and the CoHo was adding its third floor.

That places its reported origins in a fascinating chapter of Alaska's history, when railroad workers, fishermen, and other residents were building lives in communities connected by hard work, resourcefulness, and shared traditions.

The starter's precise age and complete lineage have not been independently documented, so the 94-year figure is best understood as the age reported to Jan when he received it. But that account gives us a fascinating glimpse into its history.

From a little cup handed over at the CoHo's café, it traveled home with a helicopter pilot to his wife in Soldotna, where Dianne took over the responsibility of keeping it alive.

And she did just that.

The Sourdough Queen and the Five-Gallon Bucket

One of the most entertaining details from Jan's account concerns what he was told about the starter and how it was handled at the CoHo.

Jan was told never to use metal utensils in contact with the starter itself. He passed that advice along to Dianne, and she has followed that practice throughout her time caring for it.

Jan also shared that he witnessed the café staff stirring their starter in a five-gallon bucket using a long paint-mixing tool attached to an electric drill!

Now, that's an Alaskan-sized sourdough operation.

It's a wonderful image: a big bucket of starter, a long mixing attachment, and the kind of practical ingenuity that makes you appreciate how resourceful people can be when they're feeding a crowd.

The detail also raises an interesting question about the traditional advice to avoid metal. Some bakers avoid metal utensils out of caution or habit, but food-grade stainless steel is generally considered suitable for contact with sourdough. The important considerations include the material, its condition, and appropriate food-safe use.

Still, Jan's memory of the café's mixing method is a terrific reminder that sourdough traditions aren't always as delicate or precious as we might imagine. Sometimes they're wonderfully practical.

And when you're maintaining enough starter to make pancakes for a whole café, a five-gallon bucket makes perfect sense!

From Dianne and Jan to Me: A Gift with a Legacy

After Dianne and Jan cared for the starter in Soldotna for more than two decades, it eventually found its way to me in Kenai, Alaska, as a gift.

I couldn't be more delighted.

There's something special about receiving a living piece of history. Unlike an antique that stays unchanged on a shelf, a sourdough starter continues to evolve. It needs regular attention, fresh flour and water, and a baker willing to learn its rhythms.

That means the story doesn't end with the person who first received it or with the person who kept it alive for years afterward. Every new caretaker becomes part of its continuing journey.

I'm especially grateful that Dianne shared the details of how Jan obtained the starter, when it arrived in Soldotna, and what he was told about its age. Those personal recollections give the starter a history that goes beyond a number attached to a jar.

I truly appreciate the remarkable story that came with the gift—and the care it took to keep the starter going.

Now, it's my turn.

Keeping Alaska's Sourdough History Alive, One Loaf at a Time

My own sourdough adventure has involved the beginnings of early learning, experimenting with feeding ratios, watching for bubbles and rising activity, and figuring out how to work with a living starter.

There have been successful feedings, a few mishaps, and, so far, the very first three loaves with good results! I've shared them with neighbors and members of the Kenai Rotary Club, and I'm looking forward to baking many more.

Bread has a way of bringing people together, whether amongst family and friends at home today, at a community gathering tomorrow or at a café in Cordova more than a century ago.

This starter has given me another reason to appreciate that connection.

Its journey—from the CoHo in Cordova to Jan's helicopter travels, from Cordova and Valdez to Dianne's kitchen in Soldotna, and finally to mine in Kenai—connects several Alaskan communities through one very humble combination of flour, water, and time.

The CoHo may be gone, but its stories continue through the people who remember it and the traditions they carry forward. The café's sourdough pancakes are part of that legacy, and this starter gives me a personal connection to that history.

I'm honored to be its next caretaker and excited to see where the journey takes me. Every loaf is another opportunity to learn, share, and carry a little piece of Alaska's culinary heritage forward.

As of October 19, 2026, Dianne and I are the only keepers of this amazing sourdough starter. I've decided to name mine Lady Cordova House, aka Lady CoHo.

After all, some of the best parts of history aren't found only in museums or old photographs.
Sometimes, they're bubbling away on the kitchen counter.

Cheers,
Emma

© Emma Mojica / Glaciers & Lava LLC / Willow Ptarmigan. All rights reserved.

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Add’l Photos & Images from Alaska Digital Archives:
https://vilda.alaska.edu/digital/collection/cdmg2/search/searchterm/cordova%20alaska