The Fresh Loaf

A Community of Amateur Bakers and Artisan Bread Enthusiasts.

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ericb

I'm not too picky about flour. In general, I pick the lowest cost unbleached bread flour I can find (for what it's worth, this is almost always White Lilly High Protein Bread Flour, which runs about $0.50/pound). If I can find King Arthur Flour for a reasonable price, I will buy it. In my area, most stores have it for around $0.80/pound -- not too shabby.

One store in particular, though, always has outrageous prices for King Arthur Flour. I shot the picture below on Saturday -- can you believe it? $6.09 for five pounds? What are they thinking? How on earth can they move any product at this price?

 

 

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ericb

My new go-to loaf is Hamelman's light rye. I leave out the caraway seeds (never aquired a taste) and use whole rye. 

This week, my baking schedule was thrown off, so I had to improvise. Hamelman's recipe calls for an 18-hour sourdough starter, a 1-hour bulk fermentation, and a 1-hour proof before baking. Due to time constraints, I had to put the dough in the fridge overnight after shaping.

Additionally, I have recently taken to baking larger (but fewer) loaves. I do this primarily for convenience: since I had doubled the above recipe, I would have had to shape, proof, and bake four loaves. Honestly, it's easier to do just one giant, 6 pound loaf.

I ran into two minor problems. First, I didn't cut back on the yeast, so the dough rose more than I would have liked in the refrigerator. I thought for sure it would collapse, but it held strong in the oven. Second, I didn't account for the size of the dough when baking. After about 40 minutes, the crust was dark, but the inner crumb only registered 130 degrees. I turned the oven down to 350 and let it bake for another 30 minutes (and was almost late for work as a result).

The results are pictured below:

IMAG0449

I was a little surprised that this worked out, as everything I have read up to this point suggests that rye bread does not handle cool fermentation very well. In the end, this was an absolutely declicious, well-rounded (ha!) loaf. Now that I know it can survive a night in the fridge, I think I'll bake it more often.

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ericb

It's been a long time since I've posted on The Fresh Loaf. The last several years have seen many changes in our lives, the primary one being that we chose to go "car free" back in December. Doing this is challenging, but not impossible in our hometown of Louisville, KY. While friends and family suggested that we just move on to more "bike friendly" cities (perhaps they're just trying to get rid of us and they figure Portland is as far from Kentucky as one can get), we decided to stick it out in Derby City.

It was one of the best decisions we have ever made. Relying solely on bike and bus (and the occasional ride from a friend) has forced us to become more efficient with our time and cut out unnecessary activities, but it has also led us to meet some amazing people. Who knew that there is an entire "car free" community in our city? Who knew we would have become passionately involved in our upcoming mayoral election? We find ourselves to be constantly advocating, even if only passively, for a city where owning a car will be seen as a burden, where traveling across town will be seen as a well-earned luxury instead of a necessity, and where everyone has the option to travel safely and freely (though not "for free.")

One thing that has had to change is my baking schedule. It is no longer reasonable for me to meander five hours coddling loaves of bread. Instead, I have adopted (and adapted) the five-minute method. It's not perfect, but it has allowed us to continue eating and sharing delicious homemade bread.

Lately, though, I've been getting the itch. A few weeks ago, I decided to make a new starter. Following the recipe in the back of Hamelman's book, I had a vibrant starter within a week. Still not able to carve out half a day for baking, I decided to take a chance oncombining sourdough leavening with the typically yeast-intensive five-minute method.

The results were surprising. In a thousand words...

Vermont Sourdough

As I mentioned before, the method I used was a hybrid. For the most part, I followed Hamelman's directions, although I didn't fuss over temperatures due to the warm weather, and I used a little more water (maybe 1/2 cup) to make the dough easier to work with. The dough rested in a covered bowl for about 1.5 hours. I folded in the bowl one time halfway through, and put it in the refrigerator for the night. 

The next morning, I pulled out the dough, immediately shaped it into small boules (around 1/2 pound each), arranged them on parchment paper, dusted with flour, and covered. After an hour, I turned on the oven. Within 1.5 hours of shaping, the dough was in the oven. 30 minutes at 450, steam for 15 minutes.

The primary way this differs from Hamelman's recipe is that I shaped the loaves *after* refrigerating, not before. Since the gluten develops overnight, less folding was needed, so I was able to reduce bulk fermentation time, too. This saved about 1-2 hours the night before.

Another advantage to waiting to shape the dough is that it is *much* easier to work with cold dough. Following the "five minute" method, I cut chunks of dough, quickly formed them into tight boules (using wet hands), and plopped them seam-side-down on parchment. No proofing in baker's linen, no preshaping, reshaping, no messing with flour all over the kitchen. After an hour of resting and warming up, the dough was ready for the oven.

I realize that this is not a "new" method, and that many others have advocated an overnight cold fermentation. Still, if you're pressed for time, but still want to make naturally leavened bread, you should give this a try at least once.

Happy baking!

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ericb

Pain Rustique with Whole Wheat

The inspiration for this formula derives from Hamelman's Pain Rustique, which is a high hydration dough made with a commercial yeast poolish. The crumb is very open and moist, much like a ciabatta, perfect for dipping in olive oil.

I had some neglected starter in the fridge which I decided to use in place of the yeast in the poolish. I suspected that it wasn't strong enough to raise an entire loaf, but I knew it would add a little extra flavor. Also, I used whole wheat flour in the poolish. I think this lends a mild sourness without covering up other flavors. This is especially true in bread made primarily with white flour.

The end result was as you would expect from a high hydration dough: open crumb, soft crust, and almost-buttery overtones. It was very much like a no-knead loaf, or Reinhart's pain a l'ancienne.

OVERALL FORMULA    
Bread Flour 21 ounces 84%  
WW Flour 4 ounces 16%  
Water 17 ounces 68%  
Salt 0.5 ounces 2%  
Yeast 0.35 ounces 1% (2.7 tsp)
Total 42.85   171%  
         
POOLISH        
WW Flour 4 ounces 100%  
Water 4 ounces 100%  
Starter 1 ounces 25%  
  9   225%  
FINAL DOUGH      
         
Bread Flour 21 ounces    
starter 9 ounces    
Water 13 ounces    
Salt 0.5 ounces    
Yeast 0.35 ounces    

     
         
       

Method

1. Mix poolish and ferment in a warm place for 8-12 hours. Should be bubbly.

2. Autolyse: Mix poolish, flour, and water, let rest for 20 minutes.

3. Mix final dough: add salt and yeast, mix well until gluten strands form. I did a few impromptu "slap and folds" in the mixing bowl. This requires wet hands.

4. Primary Fermentation: 70 minutes. Fold at 25 and 50 minutes.

5. Turn out dough onto well floured bench. Cut in half and shape loosely. I make boules, but you could also just leave the dough as rectangles.

6.a Preheat over to 500F.

6b. Proof: Let dough rest for 20 minutes. I placed my floured-side down (seam side up) on a proofing towel, and covered with mixing bowls to prevent drying out.

7. Carefully turn dough onto parchment paper, seam side down. Score with a simple square or single cut.

8. Slide into oven, steam, and turn oven to 460. Bake for 15 minutes. Open oven to let out steam, bake for another 15-20.


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ericb

 

A few weeks ago, I posted a question about using soft winter wheat for baking artisan bread. Here's the brief story. My wife and I are somewhat passionate about local food. Since we can only grow soft wheat here in Kentucky, I always assumed that I would have to buy flour milled from wheat grown in Kansas or the Northern Plains.

 

Fast forward to Monday when I was at the market and saw this:

... a bag of All Purpose flour from Weisenberger Mills, Midway, KY. Now, I have used their flour in the past, specifically their bread flour milled from hard red spring wheat, and it has performed beautifully. Check out the sticker on this bag, though:

 

 

Yup. Kentucky Proud, made from wheat grown in Woodford County, KY (also home of a fantastic bourbon, Woodford Reserve). I decided to throw out everything I thought I knew about flour and try to bake artisan bread with it.

 

The end result?

 

Not bad, right? I chose Hamelman's Baguettes With Poolish. I think this recipe provides a decent baseline, and really lets the flour speak for itself.

 

 

I will be the first to admit that this is far from my best loaf. The crust is a too pale and the scoring is nothing to write home about (I may have gotten a bit anxious and threw it in the oven too soon, but 30 minutes into proofing, it started to feel a little dead to the touch). The crumb is perfect for dipping in olive oil or slathering with spread. The flavor is quite nice, with just a hint of tang from the poolish, an almost buttery finish, and the subtle taste of wheat typical in a simple white bread such as this.

 

I think I will try a more advanced recipe next time, and see just how far I can push this flour. 

 

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ericb

Following closely in the footsteps of Hans, I baked Hamelman's "Whole-Wheat Levain" this morning:

The more I bake from Hamelman's Bread, the more comfortable I feel with every stage of baking. Things that used to evade me and make baking a stressful endeavor now seem to be second nature. Rather than struggling against the dough, I feel like I am able to work with it. I don't think I have any great skill when it comes to baking, but, as Hans says, Hamelman's methods are bulletproof. This gives the baker the confidence to move forward without second-guessing the multitude of decisions required throughout the process.

One thing I love about baking with whole wheat is the smell of the dough. The intensely sweet, wheaty aroma when I turn out the fully fermented dough onto the bench is almost too much to take. I have been tempted to just take a bite. Oddly enough, this sweetness doesn't carry through to the finished loaf in smell or taste. This is probably for the best, because it might be a bit overwhelming. It's a fascinating transformation, though.

Today, I tried a technique that I had long ago abandoned: overnight proofing in the refrigerator. In the past, my dough always stuck to the cloth and ruined the final loaf. I think this was caused by two things. First, I wasn't shaping the dough correctly. Following Hamelman's instructions, I ended up with a much tigher boule than in the past. I think the increased surface tension may have helped prevent sticking. Second, I floured the heck out of the dough (obvious from the picture above). I used to have a "thing" about too much flour on the crust, thinking somehow that it was less "pure." Forget that. Being able to pull the dough from the fridge and toss it into hot oven first thing in the morning was great. I'm a convert.

Thanks to Hans for bringing this recipe to my attention. I don't think I was anywhere close to his final product, but it tastes amazing. I can't wait to share it with my wife and coworkers later today.

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ericb

 

For the last few weeks, I have moved away from sourdough levain to straightforward yeast recipes. However, this weekend, I decided to revive my starter and try out something new: Eric's Favorite Rye (ici: http://tinyurl.com/d4v344).

 

 

As usual, my starter bounced back with alarming predictability. By Monday morning, it was active, bubbly, and delightful to smell. I made the rye starter per Eric Hanner's directions, set the bowl on top of the cabinet (the one the cat can't get to...), and left for work, excited about trying out a new recipe that evening.

 

Around noon, though, I got a call from my mom: my grandfather of 80 was in the CCU at the hospital. He had been having trouble lately, but we all kind of figured he might bounce back.

 

I don't know about your family, but in mine, we talk circuitously about death. My parents would never say, "you need to come to the hospital if you want to see your grandfather before he dies." They always try to be optimistic, or at least realistic about the facts as they stand at that moment, never ruling anything out. But when you hear phrases like, "they're talking with the nurse about what they want to... do," it becomes clear that "do" does not include "go home and start building model railroad houses again."

 

What followed was a typical family freak-out session at the ICU. I've been through a few of these in my life, but not as many as some of you. You know the drill: family start filing into the ICU waiting room, where speculation about the patient's health condition runs rampant. What did the doctor say? But the nurse said this... which one is right? Didn't the cardiologist say something different? Grief builds as the topic turns to "what to do." Grandma and Pappaw always said they didn't want to go on a ventilator... but nothing's easy during the critical time. The family becomes like an Ouroboros, a snake eating its tale, but without the symbolism of regeneration and rebirth. We feed on each other's grief. We took turns making frequent trips to his room, two-by-two, where we held his hand as he struggled in a rage induced by oxygen depletion. In an effort to calm him, I asked him about his first car: a chartreuse Ford. I asked him how to set up his old model railroad trains. I told him how we enjoy using his 1960's-era Central Bell rotary phone, which he wanted to throw out in a recent move. This seemed to help.

To make a long story less long, my grandfather did not die that night. He was given morphine and is now resting comfortably in a hospital room. He will never leave that room, and I think we're all OK with that. He may live another day, or several weeks. Either way, it is a blessing to have the extra time.

 

This afternoon, after too many hours in the hospital and too much drama to emotionally process anything, I realized that my rye starter was still waiting for me. When I got home, I decided to continue with the recipe, despite the fact that the starter was 24 hours too old. I threw in a bit of extra yeast, and indulged in the therapy of the familiar actions of mixing, kneading, and shaping the dough.

 

Finally, after struggling with the sticky rye and making a complete mess of my kitchen, it was time to bake. The first loaf slid in beautifully, and I had visions of a tangy, perfect deli rye. The second loaf, however, was a disaster. When I slid it in, I miscalculated and let it slide too far. It bumped up against the first loaf, and instantly combined into a giant, doughy blob.

 

In that moment, all of the fear and frustration of the last two days exploded. I suppose up to that point, I was in emotional denial about the impending death of my grandfather. Anger is the next stage of grief, and I took it out on the dough. I entirely lost my cool, and with a spatula, stabbed into the seam between the two, forcing them apart, making a racket and cursing my situation. In frustration, I slammed the oven door, which caused the  dough to slide off the baking stone and into the back of the oven. I was able to retrieve the dough before the oven caught fire, but not without ruining the loaf. In my grief, I somehow equated the dough with my grandfather. It made sense at the time.

 

At the risk of sounding preachy, I have heard that the Christian idea of resurrection does not only apply to death. They say that every loss in life is like a death, and that the recovery from these losses is like resurrection. In that way, they say that they are prepared for their final resurrection throughout their entire life. It's a nice thought. I don't mean to be melodramatic, but it was comforting to think that the death of this loaf was not the end. I can try again tomorrow, this time with more patience and thoughtfulness. In the same way, the pending loss of my grandfather is not the end, either. I can take my memories of him, my regrets and happiness, and carry them with me. Instead of wishing I had spent more time with him, I can choose to actively be with my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, my neighbors and friends. Life, like bread, is more forgiving than we might expect, and is always filled with second chances.


 

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