v's sis's blog

At first it was clearly the levain which objected to being returned to the west coast after spending several months on the east coast.  Finally it decided it would make due with its new, but in reality old, surroundings.  Then it was clearly my hands which had totally lost their mojo after spending those same months generously feeding the levain but not demanding that it work for its living.  One bread after another was poorly shaped, poorly developed or overproofed, or poorly scored.  Friends asked me to bring bread for a dinner; I had to bake every day for a week to get loaves decent enough to share.  Then I stumbled across a set of videos by Northwest Sourdough which provide step by step videos for a bread whose formula is provided so that, if one were to make the same bread, one could compare dough consistency, development, and shaping to that in the videos.  It was a godsend for me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbdIxrneL6E&index=1&list=PLDqMWhgSTguFIDx4AdxdsjImf_c6aWCLB

 And so I baked “blistered sourdough” , an absolutely delicious bread, made with potato water, which results in a gorgeous and creamy crumb and a shatteringly crusty crust. Certainly hoping this is a return of my mojo…

Many years ago, we lived for a while in a small town in France.  Every day I would walk to the bakery around the corner to buy our daily baguettes.  Could life be any better?   When it was my turn to order, I would conjure up my finest French: “Bonjour, Madam, je voudrais deux baguettes, s’il vous plait.”  To which Madam would reply “Combien”?  How many?  I would meekly raise two fingers.  As this continued over days and then weeks, I asked my bilingual friend why there seemed to be a failure of communication.  “When you say deux baguettes”, he said, “the French hear ‘de’. De and deux are not pronounced the same.  You need to extend the pronunciation of deux, drawing out the end of the word and lowering your pitch.   The proprietress hears you asking for de baguettes”, a grammatically nonsensical request for some baguettes.   But I knew that Madam was really just having her way with me, a little fun with l’americaine stupide.  And so it went.  Until it was time to return to the United States.  We did not want Madame to think, if we simply disappeared one day, that we had taken our business elsewhere.  So we went to the bakery for the last time and managed to convey to Madame that we were returning home, that we would miss les délicieuses baguettes, and we wished her well.  In return, she wished us bonne santé and told us we should revenez bientot, come back soon.  And then smiled!  Now, these many years later, while I await the magic of flour, water, salt and yeast and its promise of a Proustian feast of deux baguettes fresh from my own oven, I think of Madam.  These baguettes, scaled to deux, from DonD’s baguettes a l’ancienne with cold retardation, transport me back to France like no others. 

For the past year this site and my sister Varda, whom many of you know here as an experienced baker, have been teaching me to bake bread.  Varda lives 3000 miles away so the teaching has, obviously, not been hands-on.  But learning to bake bread, as I have learned, can only be hands-on.   The photo associated with my profile is my first and very sorry attempt at baking.  Varda said " baguettes are not for beginners".  Did I listen?  No.  I said (to myself)  "Come on, it is only flour, water, salt and yeast, how hard could it be?"   I had lived in France and I wanted baguettes.  I could imagine them coming from my oven.  I could taste them.  I could feel that crusty crust and that soft, airy interior.  I know my way around a kitchen.  I know my way around a lab bench and have made yeast do what I say.  Baking baguettes was something else all together.  So I regrouped.  Made a starter.  Started at what Varda said was the beginning. Pain au levain.  Made it a million times.  Made a million mistakes but learned from each one.  Kept asking Varda and reading Fresh Loaf to find out what I was doing wrong when I made hockey pucks, when the holes were too big or too small, when the loaves spread instead of sprang, when the tops burnt or the bottoms did or the insides were gummy, or when the score did not open.  Through it all, there were some  good loaves between the "food for the coyotes" as Varda says.  Then, I lost my starter when I went out of town and a good soul thought she was doing me a favor when she cleaned my fridge and got rid of that "weird cheese".  Made a new starter which was somehow much harder to get going the second time.  Made more loaves.  Started baking from Hamelman, FWSY, and Tartine.  Even made some decent baguettes.  Learned to use the poke test. Now, the good loaves outnumber the poor ones but every time I get cocky, the coyotes seem to get fed.  The loaf here is my first bake of the Tartine Country Loaf.  Made me feel cocky.  But really.  It took me 100 loaves to get to this point.   One can only learn by doing.  And being fearless.  And by feeding the coyotes.