Bread Ambition

I am the type of person who needs little successes every day. It’s something that I learned about myself some years ago with the help of a friend when I was struggling with school. It was way back when, I was knee deep in pattern making and feeling frustrated by the whole process. Mountains of muslin garments and paper patterns were creating for a lackluster experience, and I was feeling like my life was one big blueprint with no plans to actually construct a building from it.

At the height of my disenchantment, a friend suggested that I make something out of real fabric. “What you need are little successes along the way. Make something out of real fabric, something that you can actually wear, a reminder why you chose fashion design to begin with.”  It dawned on me then that I had not made a single garment out of actual fabric and I had been in school for months. All of my patterns were sewn in wheat-colored, natural muslin to ensure a proper fit. When one pattern was done, I would move on to the next. Methodical. Structured. Beige. . . Bland.

The gentle dispensation of my friend's outlandish proposal asked me to look at things from an alternative vantage. It suggested putting joy at the forefront of my goals rather than marching my way from pattern one to Z; all of the colorful possibilities waving about like mad behind me, trying to get my attention, whilst I was head down, completely oblivious. And I took heed because it seemed sage, Buddha-like wisdom, because it was guidance that I would have given one of my own friends stuck in their own brand of mire.

Baking bread for me has been a feasible way to fulfill my soul's requirement to feel accomplished every day, even in some small way, especially in some small way. Fundamentally, it is the small measures that are the building blocks which forge an entire life of accomplishment, and who would dare pull them apart and scrutinize them for their size?

These days when the little opportunities to find simple joy pop up and dance around for attention, I am more inclined to recognize them. More than that. I understand that they are enriching additions to my beautifully complex life; they help me to better understand just who I am within it.

Indeed, when four ambitious loaves come out of the oven today, their crackling crusts and puffy innards perched happily on my butcher block, I was in awe that it was my natural yeast that has brought a few grams of flour and water to life this past some weeks.

And to do something for pure joy has been marvelous, regardless the outcome. Truth be divulged, I have so far made flat loaves and heavy-as-bricks loaves and laugh about them with my friend. The best part is that we eat it all anyway, and say “mmmmmmmmm” because that is precisely what you do when you savor such important accomplishments.

Have a look at this day's success:

I experimented with two starters this day. The one on the left is a rye starter, the one on the right a 50/50 whole wheat/all purpose flour starter. Both are 100% hydration. Both are fed twice a day - every 12 hours. And the rye is definitely the overachiever. 50/50 is a solid second. It's a little less flamboyant with its rises, but it makes its way across the finish line in the end, and with reliable results, if not bold.

The first order of business is to make our levain. I am experimenting with the rye starter for a country rye loaf and two country sourdough boules using the Tartine Bread Book's formula because I like the punch that it packs. I am using the 50/50 for a third experimental Tartine country sourdough loaf as well.

All of the necessary materials for the levain. I am working with KA bread flour and RM whole wheat for the three country sourdough boules, and KA bread flour with AM rye medium-grind flour for the country rye.

Weighed.

Left to proof overnight.

Here is the result. Both of these are rye.

Closeup of the finished levain.

The 'float test'. The rye starter on the left is floating, but the 50/50 is not. That means that I can begin making bread with rye levain, but the 50/50 levain will need more time to proof. I put it in the oven with a pot of boiling water to create a warm environment. A warmer environment allows your dough/levain to proof faster.

Onward with the rye levain then.

Dissolving the levain in...

85 degree water.

Weighing out all of the ingredients to make the dough for the country sourdough.

First mixed, the dough is tacky. It is left to autolyse for 40 minutes, as are the rest.

This is the rye sourdough. It was infinitely more tacky and difficult to work with.

And this is an experiment that I did. I arbitrarily added 25 more grams of water to my third country sourdough boule to see what it would yield.

After the first turn. The dough must proof for several hours, and the first two hours require a a series of turns every half hour. This is the 'kneading' aspect of the process.

The rye dough remained fairly tacky through proofing.

Once the dough has proofed, a few grams of water and salt are added. Notice how elastic the dough has become.

Same for the rye. Better gluten development. This recipe uses a relatively small percentage of rye to bread flour, and still it remained challenging to work with.

More proofing and turning pix so you can see the development of the dough. When it can hold its shape for a few seconds when you scoop and pile it over onto itself, it is ready to be worked into the boules.

The dough is now ready to be shaped. I turned it out onto my surface.

Sprinkled the top of the dough and flipped it. Though this step was awkward. The book asks you to turn the dough out on an unfloured surface, then flour the top and flip it. Hm. I decided next time I would lightly flour my surface so I wouldn't have to bother with the flipping thing and dough that is now sticking to my surface. I was careful not to use too much flour.

 Divide the dough into two.

 Shape and bench rest.

Now place them into your linen lined bowl and let them rest for a few more hours to proof.

I preheated the oven and my combo cooker about 45 minutes before I wanted to bake the loaves. You are required next to turn the dough out into the flaming hot pan, quickly slash it, cover it and put it into the oven. I found that in doing this I deflated my last couple of loaves because it was too awkward to try to gently lay them into a scalding 500 degree iron pan. Aside from that, none of them landed where i wanted them to. It was a pretty sloppy affair, so I came up with my own technique.

Check it out.

 I cut out a parchment circle and fitted it over my proofed dough...

 Laid a peel on top, and carefully inverted it.

 See? isn't this better than a big FLOP into a hot pan? All gorgeous and puffy and safe.

 Then I gently slid it into the hot pan...

Country Sourdough Boule

Rye Boule

I slashed the dough with this tool here, which is just a razor blade affixed to a coffee stirrer.

I then covered the boules and baked for 20 minutes at 450 degrees. I removed the top part of the combo cooker after 20 minutes, and slipped the parchment circle from beneath it so the dough would have max contact with the hot iron. I then baked it out for another, I don't know, 25 - 30 minutes.

I was a little less timid about baking my first loaves out 'strong' as Chad asks us to do a week ago, and they came out better than this batch on the table for discussion today. This batch of bread could have used another 5 - 8 minutes for sure, which you will see in the pictures below after close inspection of the crumb. Indeed, you want the bottom and the angles of the slash marks to be quite dark. They are heavy doughs, and the extra time ensures that they bake thoroughly. One of the loaves from this batch came out perfectly, the others really needed that additional time. But, I'm a new baker, and fear not! A blackened they will be next time. I have posted pictures of my first loaves after I finish up with the story about these.

Here is the dastardly loaf that I added additional water to. The crumb was far too dense. It ended up needing more proofing time, probably because I fudged the hydration. I also experimented just baking it on a hot stone the entire time, opposed to using the combo cooker, and using the ice cube tossed in the oven technique to see what would happen, and the shape was odd. I'm not sure if the too-wet dough created the weird shape, or the lack of combo cooker use. I plan to follow directions to a 'T' next time and bake the loaves on a stone to see what sort of oven spring and shape I get.

 Isn't she a beauty? This is the #1 loaf of the double loaf batch. I used the combo cooker. It came out really beautifully.

Here is #2 loaf of the double batch.

#1 of the double batch. Good crumb. Probably not as open as it could be, but I'm a new baker and I'm just learning about how to handle dough. I think I rough-housed it a bit. And I think it could have used more time in the oven to get a stronger, more masculine crust.

 Closer crumb. All in all not bad, eh?

Here's loaf #2. Still good crumb, but you can see the dark spot in the center showing that it needed more time in the oven. Plus the bottoms of the boules were not 'Chad dark'.

Here is the rye. Isn't it outstanding?

 Look at the gorgeous crumb. But yes, longer in the oven!

The fabulous bunch.

And here are some pictures from my very first sourdough loaves using the Tartine Bread book. They came out a little flat, but the crumb was dynamite, and they tasted amazing! I baked them out strong, and that is definitely what I will be looking for in my future Tartine loaves. It is a masculine bread. That is the way that Chad developed his formulas, to be baked out pretty dark, so, no more wussing about with bake times!

Have a look:

 Look at the bottom! This batch had a wonderful, caramelized flavor.

 Awesome with olive oil.

My friend checking out what led to the loaves we are about to eat. Since the formulas make two loaves, Christina is always the lucky recipient of one.

Here are the measurements for the loaves:

* These formulas make 2 loaves of both the country sourdough and the rye sourdough.

First, make the levain for both the country loaves and the rye loaves as follows:

1 TB sourdough starter
200g warm 78 degree water
200g 50/50 whole wheat/all purpose flour

Mix and let proof overnight, covered with a kitchen towel.

The next day, after the levain has passed the 'float test', mix until just incorporated:

For the country loaves:
700g 80 degree water, 200g levain, (Total flour 1,000g) 900g white bread flour, 100g whole wheat flour.

For the country rye loaves:
800g 75 degree water, 200g levain, (Total flour 1,000g) 170g  medium-fine whole rye flour, 830g white bread flour.

Autolyse for 25 to 40 minutes.

After the autolyse

Mix 20g salt with 50g warm water. Add to the dough. Fold the dough on top of itself and transfer to a small, clear container for bulk fermentation, 3 - 4 hours.

During the first 2 hours of bulk fermentation, complete a series of turns every half hour, letting the dough rest for the remaining time.

When the dough has adequately fermented, pour it onto your very lightly floured workspace and shape into rounds. Bench rest 20-30 minutes.

After the rest, shape into tight boules, careful not to knock the dough down. Transfer to linen lined baskets or bowls. Rise for 3-4 hours before baking, or retard your loaves at this point for 8-12 hours, in your linen lined bowl/basket.

About 20 minutes before you are ready to bake the loaves, place two cast iron combo cookers in the oven, both the lid and bottom, and preheat oven to 500 degrees.

Follow my instruction above inverting the boules onto lined peels. I used parchment, maybe you would have success with flour. Up to you. Sprinkle with rice flour. Slash the doughs. Pull the combo cookers out of the oven slide in the doughs, immediately cover them with their lids, get them into the oven, lower the temp to 450 degrees. After 20 minutes, remove the lids. If using parchment like I do, slip them out, then bake for 20-30 minutes more. You really want to bake these loaves out strong. Don't be timid like I was my second time around. My first bake yielded the best flavored loaves. They really are better when the bottoms are almost charred looking, and the ears of your slashes are dark chocolate brown.

Cool on a wire rack. I let mine cool for only an hour and a half, then I have to cut into it and eat it. I've never had problems with the longevity of my bread in doing so, but if you are concerned about the flavors mellowing and things setting up properly, you might want to wait for a couple few hours till they are totally cool. Evidently some people can do this.

If you don't have two combo cookers, follow the instruction for one loaf up until you uncover it, after its initial 20 minute bake. When you uncover it, transfer the 1/2 baked boule onto a stone (that should be in the oven preheating with the combo cooker). Then slide your second loaf into the combo cooker, cover, following the lidded/timing instruction as for the first loaf. I did this with great success pre-2 combo cookers.

Verdict:

Flavor: developed. Crust: like glass. Aroma: delicious. Dough temperament: Simple. Not too soft or wild. Worry factor when fermenting: Almost nil - it expanded beautifully and reliably. 

To the staff of life!

This post has been submitted to YeastSpotting. Hopefully my loaves will get into this week's update!


All formulas and techniques are adapted from Tartine Bread. I urge you to buy the book.

My Doughlai Lama

I recently took up drinking water as a hobby, and I am happy to report that it has improved the transit of my moods, among other things, swiftly spiriting the nasty ones out and the agreeable ones in. I know it sounds strange, the fact that one would consider drinking water a hobby, but I've been plodding along like a camel for longer than I can remember, taking mere sips to fuel the dusty stretches of my life, and begrudgingly so. It's martyrdom at its most ostentatious, and I must admit, there have been moments here and there where I've sworn I could feel the prick of thorns at my brow and the timber of indecision threaded across my shoulders.

Enough hyperbole. And frankly, it's not even my faith.

The truth is, I'm not certain why I resist drinking water. Water = life. Yeah? So it got me t’ thinking: maybe I'm resisting life?  With expedience, my mind viciously regurgitated a panorama of all the terrible little ways I've gotten in my own way over the past few years, and with more zeal than I appreciated. No one likes to be reminded of their deficiencies, especially by thine own self, and particularly when the imagery is a winding and endless stream.

To be honest, all this cutting in front of myself has been getting on my nerves, which is probably what spurred this fresh revelation not too far in the past: You need more water grasshopper. It was the voice. You know, the epiphanic one. For my dough? I just assumed, since bread of late has consumed me metaphorically, tangibly, and fundamentally. Not only for your dough, but for your soul…

I set out to do research, and here’s what I found: It would seem the amount of H2O that one needs for sustainability is controverted. There is a theory that we all need relatively the same, within a small range, there is another that one should base his/her own needs on body weight and other factors like diet, which is the one I like, because it helps me to validate my shame. Evidently, if you’re a regular at Mother Nature’s salad bar, it contributes to your daily water quota.  Since I’m fairly small and eat a criminal amount of fruits and vegetables, I had for years assumed that all of those figs and kale were adding up to some pretty impressive numbers in the hydration department. After all, I haven’t died yet nor withered into a sentient prune, and my water consumption has been admittedly abysmal for a length of time too embarrassing to declare (does coffee count?). It turns out, no matter how juicy the pluot, there is no substitution for an old-fashioned glass of water. I will confess that I learned this the hard way and leave it at that.

I also uncovered that among the countless detriments of dehydration, for instance, atrophy of the brain, stagnation of the nether regions and sandpaper skin, drinking adequate aqua pura can improve one’s mood. As habitually parched as I’ve been this past decade, I could not help but envision my emaciated brain bouncing around my skull like a lottery ball. I would imagine that all that agitation cannot contribute to high spirits. And to complicate matters, the quality of water can mean the difference between effervescence and an early grave.

Here's where my interest was piqued.

As it turns out, wild yeast starters are rather prima donna when it comes to the quality of their water too. And since all roads lead to bread for me these days, their stunted progress was one of the first things that popped into my mind. You see, they had been snailing along without any logical explanation for longer than they 'should' have, my impatience aside. I was doing all the right things to ensure their growth; feeding them in a timely manner and giving them the right sort of food, but evidently what I was not giving them was the right quality water. And finally I felt that I was onto something. For Los Angeles tap tastes and smells like the chlorinated waters of public swimming pools, a chemical that healthy yeasts have a violent aversion to.

I began thinking about my own oft mercurial mood (no water = skinny brain), how the mood of my starter was more slouchy than perky (bad water = no reason to live) and how, selfishly, it was delaying my inaugural loaf. Could I somehow be delaying the progress of my own life from a seed state to full self-actualization? Or could my recent epiphany mean that I am making the natural and timely graduation from the lower order necessities toward self-actualization with due method. After all, one cannot evolve to higher levels of awareness until one advances along a hierarchical path whose success builds upon a systematic progression of understanding.

So, if the quality of water + flour = the quality of my starter’s mood, I could only imagine how this would also translate to my future dough; dough being equivalent my essential self. Dry dough, then, is like a foul mood. A perfectly hydrated dough is like a good mood. You get the point. I don’t think I’m being dramatic in announcing that my starter has become my new guru. I think I’ll follow it to hear what it has to say.

Here are some snapshots to sort it all out:

There are actually many factors that changed my languid starter into an effervescent one (the path of the spirit is never one-dimensional, is it?).

Here is the starter using Los Angeles tap:

Just kidding. Those are old coffee grounds. If starter = soul, that would be, like, Charles Manson’s.

Seriously.

Notice the lovely fermentation happening here, good bubbles...

But I never got much loft. You’ll see what I mean by that as the pictures progress.

I began using bottled water, and things started to perk up.

But still, the WWW abounds with lay people’s starters gushing over lips of containers like friggin Niagra falls. Big showoffs.

Bear with me for a minute. I am totally aware that this has all gotten a little hippie here:

If starter = me, then I would be wise to think about those moments on my own path that led to accelerated growth and apply those same methods to my starters to see what affect it might have on theirs. While improving the quality of my water (which was like switching from the crappy money-grubbing guru who offers ill-quality spiritual advice to one who doesn’t withhold illumination until your next paycheck), definitely shed some light, it was only the cracking of the door. I recollected that I had made my own best spiritual strides when I was all warm and safe-feeling. That was it! Warmth! My starters were forced to bear the cold, cruel world of the kitchen counter, and what wretched soul could grow under those wintry conditions? I don’t think it’s any secret that advancement of the self has never benefited from harsh environs, and since I have personally never found any virtue in tough love, I put my starters in a snuggly cabinet above the refrigerator, one that was completely empty because its location is inconvenient. You can probably imagine that the spiritual corollary here is just about too much for me to endure. I'm practically bursting at the seams keeping myself from going on a tangent. It's a blog post, not a sermon, it's a blog post, not a sermon...

My starters began growing consistently and reaching lofts that they in the past had not. Have a look.

Even still, the revelations abound.

When I first moved to Los Angeles to deepen my self-awareness - I know, it seems paradoxical to come from the Bay Area, a place famous for its grounded milieu, to the seat of superficiality – I sandwiched myself into a one-bedroom apartment, when for the past five years I had been virtually swimming around in a 1,500 square foot loft. Think about it: when we are given too much space in our surroundings, it ceases to be nurturing and dilutes our purpose. We fill the spaces with nonessential things that take the place of the real work of going inward. We become lazy in our efforts to grow because there is no challenge or impetus to continue the peeling back of layers. Why, when things are so easy, would we opt to bare ourselves in any way that might cause discomfort, even if reconciling with it is for our very own good and might foster a heightened level of awareness that could lead to the enhancement of our lives in a real way. To be sure, there is a definitive difference between feeling safe enough to move ahead on our path in the comfort and non-negotiable trust of earned self-faith, and an illusory sense of security that is created by the purchase of accouterments that trick us into feeling worthy. Here is my motto: if you can purchase it, it probably won't lead to any meaningful avenue in your self growth. It is a fact that we are intrinsically hedonist, and because of this, it is relatively easy to make the choice to spurn opportunities for growth because illusory comfort can be terribly opiatic, even though in the stagnant waters of that very same false comfort, we may find ourselves at risk of drowning. We oftentimes take our chances and hope that in some way we can have it all: the ability to maintain a false sense of security, and somehow find the determination to grow, even though there is no easy incentive to.

Sometimes what we need is to excise the surplus, get back to basics, draw the walls in a little more. Excess is not always what we need, and seldom when the chosen path is self-awareness. Los Angeles has forced me to go deeper within by sheer virtue of contrast to my goals of self-awareness. Being here and finding myself faced with contrary values has allowed me to absolutely define my own. Los Angeles has been my drawing in of the walls, and as I did the same for my starters, this is what occurred:

Within a couple of hours my starters with their pristine waters, their warm surroundings, and the walls drawn in and simplified, they flourished.

And so it's time to make my first loaf of bread.


To the staff of life!