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I still find it a funny experience to bake and then display small snippets of my life. Over the past fortnight I have perhaps pondered too deeply on this and my relationship with baking and bread … driven poor Nat to distraction I am sure.

So what do I want my bread to be like?

This question only found its way to me at the end of a long week. A long week with too much time spent looking at what other bakers/bakeries were doing. A week with too much time spent on other people’s lives and not my own. A week with too much time spent on wondering what I could possibly bake for the blog … and of course this is an endless ever-growing list.

For me, this seems to be the wrong way to go about it. Better to bake for my life and show the results, whether they are same and mundane or new and exciting. Even the same and mundane is never really the same and can be quite a challenge as we all know.

As the week finally came to an end, everything fell into place for a Saturday bake. I would bake and deliver my favourite bread, the Country Bread with two Starters to a small group of friends. This gave me a purpose, a timeline to stick to and just the right amount of pressure. And with any luck we would have a loaf left over for us to enjoy on a picnic the following day.

Along with the Country Bread I wanted to bake a 100% Rye Vollkornbrot with a meal so coarse that with every two grains into the mill I wanted three pieces out. This meant an afternoon of milling and preparation the day before. I took my time and approached it all a little differently. The wheat was milled finely and sifted once catching approx 17% of its weight with the caught material set aside for dusting peels and baskets.

The rye grains went through the mill with the stones set a wide distance apart which produced lovely cracked grains and also a proportion of fine flour. Throughout the milling process I had to manage the mill so the stones had time to cool between passes. The desem starter was then expanded directly from the fridge and left outside in the cool night air. The rye sour was built for both breads using very coarsely milled meal … this would be an interesting inclusion to the Country Bread formula.

The next morning I woke early to beat the heat and keep to the timeline. As the Country Bread autolysed the vollkornbrot was mixed and mixed and mixed. With a few minutes to spare I sat quietly as the oven preheated and sipped a cup of tea in apricot light amidst the chatter of morning birds. Two hours later the Vollkornbrot was in the oven as the Country Bread bulk fermented and I spent a morning making french toast for the family.

The Vollkornbrot was removed from the oven in time for me to boost up the heat in preparation for the two loads of Country Breads. A warm day greatly assisted their final proofing with fridge doing the opposite for one of the batches as they waited for the oven. The warm loaves were soon bundled into a basket for an afternoon of deliveries and errands in a glorious sunny day. Perfect!

The day after I finally had the chance to slice into and taste both of the breads. The Country Bread was brought to a family picnic by the water where it was topped with mashed banana … a treat for kids and adults alike! So many childhood memories tied up in that flavour combination. The translucent crumb was softer than I remember from past bakes which was most likely from the different sifting method used and possibly the cracked rye used in the starter. The flavour was mild and fresh and even with the rye starter there was very little hint of sour. … plus it has my favourite coloured crust!

I had to wait for breakfast the next day before slicing into the Vollkornbrot. I think the crumb is still setting but it held together well for thin slicing. The flavour is smooth and deep with a creamy texture. The grains are apparent but not chewy or uncomfortable. I would love to bake this even longer next time and perhaps ferment the sour a little longer … I am just a little cautious knowing how fast the fresh milled grains seem to ferment.

Vollkornbrot

Method

1. 5:30pm the day before prepare the rye sour (1.) soaker (2.) and soaked grains (3.)
2. 5:30 am the following day. Drain soaked grains and combine with rye sour, soaker and remaining cracked grains and water.
3. Mix thoroughly with a wooden spoon for 20-30 minutes (basically stir/mix until tired. Rest then begin stirring again)
4. Shape and place into greased tin (mine are 8 x 4 x 4 pullman) seam side down.
5. I proved it for one hour before docking, covering with lid and placing into oven preheated to 270°C on a baking stone. I immediately dropped the temperature to 200°C  for one hour. I then reduced the temperature to 150°C and baked a further hour before removing from the oven.

So this is what I baked on my weekend … and now the starters are happy and well fed, we are happy and well fed and it’s nice to have found my path and purpose.

Cheers,
Phil

First, a tip of the hat to theuneditedfoodie for his recommendation of Chris Glen's breads.  Thank you, Raj!

Because of Raj's comment on a recent blog of mine about Fervere Bakery, my wife and I made a jaunt down to The Bad Seed market in the 1900 block of McGee Street in Kansas City.  It's a funky little (with emphasis on funky and little) marketplace that features different providers of everything from hand-crafted soaps to free-range chicken (and eggs) to breads to produce.  Plus a few other things that I probably missed.  It is open on Friday evenings from 4:00-8:00.  The market has recently added a new vendor of artisanal breads, The New Traditionalist. 

You may have noticed that The New Traditionalist, aka Chris Glen, was quite outspoken in his praise of Fevere's products.  On the one hand, that's a very gracious acknowledgement of a competitor.  On the other hand, Chris knows whereof he speaks because his own breads are equally praiseworthy. 

I purchased a loaf of his whole wheat bread.  It is a naturally leavened bread consisting of organic whole wheat, water, and sea salt.  You can't get much more elemental than that.  

Shaped as a batard, the loaf was boldly baked,

which enhances the play of flavors between crust and crumb.  The crumb texture is very light and open.  No bricks here.

You can see that the crumb is open, laced with bubbles of all different sizes.  The sheen of the cell walls attests to full gelatinzation of the starch.  Chris shares a commercial kitchen with another business, baking his breads in pizza ovens.  That isn't an ideal setup but Chris has found a way to go beyond his circumstances instead of being limited by them.  As I write this, I realize that I ought to have asked Chris what flour he uses.  It appears to be very finely ground since large flecks of bran aren't evident in the crumb.

Now, you may have wondered why I mentioned a chocolatier in the title for this blog.  That has to do with a bit of geographic serendipity.  Christopher Elbow Chocolates has a store exactly one block north of The Bad Seed.  In appearance, it is everything that The Bad Seed is not.  Glamorous.  Gleaming.  Elegant.  Refined.  Although Elbow refers to his products as artisanal, one would not be far off the mark by referring to them as art.  We, naturally, did not leave empty-handed.  Once my wife spotted the toffee robed in dark chocolate and covered with toasted pecans, the deal was sealed.

There is a greater serendipity at work here than just geographic location.  The one that I was surprised by this evening has to do with flavor, with maximizing the potential of the ingredients.  I had savored two or three slices of Chris' whole wheat bread with a bowl of soup at dinner, marveling at the richness of the flavors he had teased from such simple ingredients.  And then the stunner: I tasted many of those same flavors in a piece of Christopher's toffee when I had it for dessert.  Yes, there were differences.  The candy, for instance, tasted nothing of wheat or levain and the bread wasn't nearly so sweet as the candy.  But both the candy and the bread shared flavor notes of nuts, of toast, of chocolate, of deeply roasted malt, of butter.  I am frustrated by my inadequacy in providing an accurate description of what I sensed, because there was so much more than I can put down here in words. The parallels were so clear, so surprising, and I would have missed them entirely if I had not eaten the two in close succession.  Beyond the specific flavors, the bread and the toffee each displayed a respect by their makers for the ingredients, as well as a willingness to apply skill and technique to realize every potential locked in those ingredients.

Thank you, Chris, for a superb loaf of bread.  May The New Traditionalist prosper.

Paul

La Micca a Lievitazione Naturale sulla tavola per cena. Solo lievito naturale in coltura liquida, farina tipo 2 (forte), acqua (78%), sale integrale.

The Sourdough Miche on my dinner table. Only liquid sourdough culture, high extraction wheat flour (strong), water (78%), unrefined sea salt.

I'm not dead, I've just been hiding from the temptations of the current ITJB items...

Plus, I haven't done anything interesting other than my usual weekly sourdoughs that we live off of, with maybe the following exceptions:

I made a bunch of marbled, braided loaves for people that I didn't get pictures of. At the end, I had a handful of strands left over and I was tired of braiding, so I shoved them into a lidless pullman pan...

The second picture is my new favorite condiment. Sourdough with toasted sunflower seeds, toasted, a little bit of garlic butter, sprinkle with parmesan, then toast. Top with the cherry pepper mix. I am drooling thinking about it. I normally don't go in much for pre-prepared condiments, but this was under $3 and looked good, so I gave it a shot. Yum.