Sunday, July 20, 2014

Pane Siciliano (and A New Michette)

This all began with a new Michette. Wait. So, what exactly is the definition of my Michette? It's a boule made with home-milled whole grain and hand-bolted flour, or 100% bolted flour. It generally makes for a flattish loaf with a tighter, more even crumb. Like a mini Miche, hence the name. OK, so, I was busy bolting away some Iraqi Durum, right, coming up with a new bread for us all. And you know how durum is, right, super hard with spiky little molecules that rip at the gluten structure. Yes, there is plenty of protein in this hard grain, but the quality of it is not conducive to achieving much oven spring. Hence my idea of bolting part of the flour to soften those angry little particles. Let me tell you, the resulting Michette was lovely.


Michette, in Iraqi Durum

Of course, I couldn't stop there. I wondered if I could make a durum loaf using 100% hand-milled whole grain. A challenge, right, because of the nature of durum. So how do the Italians do it then? How do they make lovely loaves with 100% durum? Just to revive our understanding of durum, we all know that durum is a very hard wheat, yeah? I think the hardest. We know that, as aforementioned, the milled grain produces barbed molecules that slice away at our gluten structure, what little it has anyway, since the protein, while pretty high in percentage, is weak. We also know that semolina flour is made from durum, but semolina refers to the flour's coarse grind, not the grain itself. What I never knew, but that which I learned through this experiment, is that in Italy when bakers make durum loaves, they use a specific grind of durum called rimacinato, which translates as 'regrind'. So, when you buy a bag of semola di grano duro rimacinato, you are conceivably buying durum wheat that has been ground twice to break down those harsh little molecules a little further, smooth out their spiny little edges. This is the flour that bread makers in Italy use. Hm, sounds dubious, sounds like there is something else going on here. More on this in a second. Anyway, I decided to take up the idea of remilling my semolina, transforming it into this lovely sounding flour.

Pane Siciliano

There was not much information on the net about 100% durum loaves, and all of the breads I ran across either involved the addition of strong flour or employed this commercially made rimacinato which creates a loaf of bread with fantastic oven spring. Because of such, I would venture to guess that some other technique is involved in the processing of this flour because you are not going to get crazy oven spring if you are making rimacinato at home. While the breads I saw using this commercial rimacinato were beautiful, I wanted rustic loaves, truly hand-made loaves that would reflect the sort of country breads you might find on a Sicilian table. Judging by the breads produced by the commercial flour, I suspect that while it is 100% durum wheat, it is likely not whole durum wheat, but rather white flour, just like any ordinary bread flour, but made from durum berries. It's okay if it is. Just not what I was after here. 





I made several loaves of bread for this experiment, double testing the formulae that you see here, playing with hydration. I think altogether I made seven loaves to get them just right. First up is our Michette, in durum. A definitive keeper. It made a really gorgeous loaf, chewy crumb, fantastic nutty, sweet flavor. It was lovely plain, toasted, drizzled with olive oil, slathered with pesto and suffocated with slices of first of the season heirloom tomatoes and fleur di sel. Then I baked up three loaves of my newest invention, which I am calling my Pane Siciliano. I hand-ground some rimacinato, employing a double grind technique, right. First grind on sort of a standard setting on the Komo. This produced what would be regarded as semolina. I then sent it through the mill again on a finer grind, thus, our rimacinato is born. And all three loaves were an experiment with hydration as well, so I could get it right for the post.


Pane Siciliano (double grind)

Finally, and here's something, I baked up another three loaves of my Pane Siciliano, again making my hand-ground rimacinato, but this time I experimented with a triple grind to see what sort of crumb it would yield, perhaps it would contribute to a higher loft (though for this loaf, as with my Michette, I am partial to a flattish loaf with a tighter, more even crumb). I employed the double ground technique as above, then cooled it a bit before sending it through the mill a third time on a finer setting. What resulted was a very, very fine flour. Almost imperceptible to the touch.

Pane Siciliano (triple grind)

The resulting breads were fantastic. As we are all surely aware, the danger of durum breads can be a really tough cortex, especially with protracted baking times. But all of our experiments here resulted in lovely, tender crusts, and on that note, a decidedly earthy, nutty almost buttery crumb. Sweet and moist, a touch of acid. I will say, I didn't notice much difference in taste or texture between the double and triple milled breads, save for the crust of the double-milled which was only minutely more firm. They were both aesthetically pleasing as well. But to save time and effort, I would probably incline toward the double-mill when making a Pane Siciliano in the future.

The things you need to know about this bread is that it ferments very quickly, so you may not want to push fermentation times. For your benefit, I played with hydration and fermentation times within these 7 loaves, and the formulae here exhibit the ideal measurements and method. Finally, the loaves also bake really quickly, so, don't crank the oven beyond 450 degrees after the first 15 minutes of steam or you will likely pull them out prematurely. This is a very wet dough, so it needs the full hour to bake. Use your thermometer for this one guys or you may end up with an underbaked crumb.

This afternoon I had several slices with pesto and tomato, olive oil, and nipped at it plain every time I walked into the kitchen. Just a lovely rustic loaf to add to our repertoire. Please let me know how your Pane Siciliano works out for you. These are the perfect breads to compliment your next Italian feast, or frankly to bake up weekly. If this bread is one of peasant ancestry, it is the king of its kind.

Here is the method for both our kingly Pane Siciliano and our new Michette.

PANE SICILIANO





LEVAIN DAY

Three days before you plan to make your levain, throw your starter into overdrive by feeding it three times each day. On the fourth day, build your levain:

-10g 100% hydration starter
-75g rimacinato (double milled) durum wheat flour (I used Iraqi Durum for all of our experiments, but you can use a non-heritage varietal if you can't find Iraqi)
-82g h2o

Mix up the above. You will arrive at a very firm paste. It's okay, it will loosen as it ferments. Mine fermented for 6 hours.


Levain, Just Mixed



Fermented

DOUGH DAY

You will need:

-All of the levain
-530g h2o (no, this is not a typo. This is a very thirsty flour, which you will discover)
-500g freshly milled durum that has been milled once on a semi-fine setting, cooled a bit, then sent through the mill a second time on a fine setting (you will have to stir the flour in the hopper to push it through the stones). If you want to experiment with triple milled durum, cool the rimacinato, then send it through the mill a third time (again, you will have to stir the flour in the hopper to push it through the stones)
-12g kosher salt, I used Diamond

When the levain is at its peak, mix it with the flour and h2o until you reach a shaggy mass. Autolyse for 45 minutes.

After the autolyse, squish the salt into the dough so that it is thoroughly incorporated. Now begin your 3-hour bulk fermentation. Here you will perform a series of turns for the first two hours of bulk. Leave it be for the final hour.

* This dough will not gain obvious gluten formation. It will feel grainy as you do your turns, with only slight gluten formation. It does not have elasticity which we are familiar with when working with hard winter wheat flours either, so, it will indeed 'break' when you pull it up and stretch it during the folds. All is fine. It will ferment nicely despite this. Indeed, as you can see, this flour ferments very, very quickly. If you will notice both the reduced autolyse and bulk fermentation times. The final fermentation is also reduced considerably. My advice is not to push it. I have conducted this experiment with longer fermentations, higher hydration, and lower hydration and what you see here is the optimal method, measurements and fermentation times. The only change you might make is to refrigerate the dough after the first hour of bulk if it is very warm (above 80 degrees) where you are, and complete the bulk fermentation cold. Still, avoid pushing the fermentation time as this dough quickly overferments.

After the bulk fermentation, scrape the dough onto a worktable that you have dusted with brown rice flour, gather it into a loose round and let it rest for 5 minutes.

After it has rested, shape it using the 'Forkish fold' method, which is best for this dough. As you will quickly find, the dough will seem to disintegrate in your hands. You will not be able to shape it uber-tightly. Do the best you can. Just fold the sides up over the dough toward the center of the mass, spinning the dough until all of the edges are folded over to the center to create as tight a boule as possible. It will seem like this is never going to work. It will feel grainy to the touch. It's fine. Just forge on. The Forkish fold also affords another advantage. You cannot and should not attempt to score this dough. It won't work. It is very much like a high-percentage rye bread where the method is to let it fissure and open up at its natural cracks. You will place the dough seam side down, so that when you flip it on bake day, it will land seam side up, thus allowing the steam to escape and the loaf to organically 'self-score'. Moving along... pop it into a banneton or a bowl lined with a linen that has been dusted with brown rice flour, again, seam side DOWN.

Cover and get it into the fridge and ferment 8 hours. 

BAKE DAY

One hour before you plan to bake the bread, preheat the oven to 500 degrees, installed with a baking stone and both halves of your combo cooker.

After the hour preheat, remove the dough bowl from the fridge, place a piece of parchment over the mouth of it, then a pizza peel on top of this, now flip the whole thing over so that the dough ends up on top of the parchment and peel. Remove the linen (if you have over dusted, now is the time to brush away any loose flour. I know, I have been the victim of some snowy loaves too).


Slide it into the shallow end of the combo cooker. Cover with the fat end and steam the loaf at 500 degrees for 15 minutes. Now turn the oven down to 450 and bake for another 15. After the steam, remove the lid, pop it beneath the pan for a little buffer to protect the bottom of your loaf and bake out at 450 degrees.

This loaf browns up quickly, so, keep the temperature modest for the rest of the bake. You decidedly do not want to go to chestnut brown with durum loaves, or the cortex will become hard as a rock, and you do not want to crank the oven or the interior will not bake properly. This is a really wet dough, and needs the full hour to bake. Be sure to take the temp to at least 210-212 before pulling it out of the oven. The recommended temp here should should keep the loaf more on the golden brown end of the color scheme.

Perfectly Steamed

After the steam, remove the lid and bake till you reach the recommended temp, rotating the pan as you go to avoid dark patches.

Allow to cool for at least two hours before slicing. The interior will be moist beyond belief, the crust will be crisp but tender.


The formula for the Michette is below this group of pictures:







k

MICHETTE, IN DURUM


LEVAIN DAY

Three days before you plan to make your levain, throw your starter into overdrive by feeding it three times each day. On the fourth day, build your levain:

-10g 100% hydration starter
-75g single milled durum wheat flour (I used Iraqi Durum for all of our experiments, but you can use a non-heritage varietal if you can't find Iraqi)
-75g h2o

Mix up the above. You will arrive at a very firm paste. It's okay, it will loosen as it ferments. Mine fermented for 8.5 hours.

DOUGH DAY

You will need:

-All of the levain
-480g h2o
-250g freshly milled durum that has been milled once on a semi-fine setting
-250g freshly milled durum that has been milled once on a semi-fine setting, then bolted through a sieve using a #50 screen
-12g kosher salt, I used Diamond
-A good glug of olive oil, I don't know, 15g perhaps? I used California Olive Ranch extra virgin

When the levain is at its peak, mix it with the flour and h2o until you reach a shaggy mass. Autolyse for 45 minutes.

 Just Before Autolyse

 Growing

Autolyse Accomplished

After the autolyse, squish the salt and olive oil into the dough so that it is thoroughly incorporated. Now begin your 3-hour bulk fermentation. Here you will perform a series of turns for the first two hours of bulk. Leave it be for the final hour.



* This dough will not gain obvious gluten formation. It will feel grainy as you do your turns, with only slight gluten formation. It does not have elasticity which we are familiar with when working with hard winter wheat flours either, so, it will indeed 'break' when you pull it up and stretch it during the folds. All is fine. It will ferment nicely despite this. Indeed, as you can see, this flour ferments very, very quickly. If you will notice both the reduced autolyse and bulk fermentation times. The final fermentation is also reduced considerably. My advice is not to push it. I have conducted this experiment with longer fermentations, higher hydration, and lower hydration and what you see here is the optimal method, measurements and fermentation times. The only change you might make is to refrigerate the dough after the first hour of bulk if it is very warm (above 80 degrees) where you are, and complete the bulk fermentation cold. Still, avoid pushing the fermentation time as this dough quickly overferments.

After the bulk fermentation, scrape the dough onto a worktable that you have dusted with brown rice flour, gather it into a loose round and let it rest for 5 minutes.



After it has rested, shape it using the 'Forkish fold' method, which is best for this dough. As you will quickly find, the dough will seem to disintegrate in your hands. You will not be able to shape it uber-tightly. Do the best you can. Just fold the sides up over the dough toward the center of the mass, spinning the dough until all of the edges are folded over to the center to create as tight a boule as possible. It will seem like this is never going to work. It will feel grainy to the touch. It's fine. Just forge on. The Forkish fold also affords another advantage. You cannot and should not attempt to score this dough. It won't work. It is very much like a high-percentage rye bread where the method is to let it fissure and open up at its natural cracks. You will place the dough seam side down, so that when you flip it on bake day, it will land seam side up, thus allowing the steam to escape and the loaf to organically 'self-score'. Moving along... pop it into a banneton or a bowl lined with a linen that has been dusted with brown rice flour, again, seam side DOWN.

Cover and get it into the fridge and ferment 8 hours. 

BAKE DAY

One hour before you plan to bake the bread, preheat the oven to 500 degrees, installed with a baking stone and both halves of your combo cooker.


After the hour preheat, remove the dough bowl from the fridge, place a piece of parchment over the mouth of it, then a pizza peel on top of this, now flip the whole thing over so that the dough ends up on top of the parchment and peel. Remove the linen (if you have over dusted, now is the time to brush away any loose flour. I know, I have been the victim of some snowy loaves too).



Slide it into the shallow end of the combo cooker. Cover with the fat end and steam the loaf at 500 degrees for 15 minutes. Now turn the oven down to 450 and bake for another 15. After the steam, remove the lid, pop it beneath the pan for a little buffer to protect the bottom of your loaf and bake at out 450 degrees.


Steamed

This loaf browns up quickly, so, keep the temperature modest for the rest of the bake. You decidedly do not want to go to chestnut brown with durum loaves, or the cortex will become hard as a rock, and you do not want to crank the oven or the interior will not bake properly. This is a really wet dough, and needs the full hour to bake. Be sure to take the temp to at least 210-212 before pulling it out of the oven. The recommended temp here should should keep the loaf more on the golden end of the color scheme.



To the staff of life!

(This post was sent to Susan's Wild Yeast Blog)

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Sidebar Sunday: Friends

What is a friend? I mean, it's hard to quantify, really. And it's different for everyone, the parameters of friendship. My idea of a friend is someone who confides in me and with whom I can do the same; someone to spend time with for no particular reason at all, indeed, but above all, there is no friend like the one who will take you to the airport.

A Lemon Cake for Molly

Molly is a beautiful soul. She is the sweetest girl I have ever met in my life. No. Seriously. She's one of those people whom you say about: not a mean bone in her body. I wish you all could meet her, your lives would be better for it. And frankly, it would take a million cakes to show Molly how wonderful and lovely and special she is (and not just because she takes me to the airport). I love you Molly! (and not just because you take me to the airport).

Indeed I was on my way to the airport to attend my best friend's wedding in Seattle, I was the bridesmaid/chef/wedding cake baker. The wedding cake was naked and gluten free and served with stone fruits that I macerated in St. Germaine liquor and chantilly cream. The ceremony was very sweet, set in the couple's luxuriously wild back yard and Seattle couldn't have given us more glorious weather. Oscar and I have been friends for 12 years. It has been that many years of nothing but laughter (and food) and love (and food, oh, and wine). I left Oscar and Donn to plan their honeymoon in China. Another friend gained, and hopefully many more years of laughter and celebration.






As it turns out, this has been a celebratory month. Aside from the wedding and the airport cake for Miss Molly, I have been baking up a storm for two of my closest friends' birthdays. It's what I do, you know, to let the people in my life know that I love them. Sandra's birthday was just last week, and I made her this cake that I make when I have something important to celebrate, like a birthday, or a friend stopping over with a bottle of wine. I also baked her chocolate scones, a couple of loaves of bread and a fabulous spelt focaccia and for days after I received texts about how much she and her family were enjoying it as they powered through it all. Sandra is a supermodel-turned-chef with fiery Spanish blood. She and I instantly connected because of a like-minded candor and because we both have professional cooking careers in common. A warm spirit whom I cannot imagine having in my life, it is with great fortune that I get to call her one of my dearest friends. Indeed, I think I'm the only friend she has who cooks for her. She's definitely the only friend I have who has strutted down the runway.


Finally there was a blueberry tart for Mika, another lovely woman who I am lucky to have in my life and who has become like a sister to me. Our friendship is one of deep confidence. Mika is the first friend I gained in L.A., and since we met five years ago, I find myself searching for excuses to invite her over for dinner (er, Bastille day? No better thing to celebrate than that!). Oh, the dinners we have had. They start with loads of food and wine and end with tears of laughter. But more than that, Mika and I have spend many more days sitting quietly on her porch admiring her lovely garden and eating of its spoils as the sun goes down. And it never fails when we are together that I look at her and wonder how it is that I came to find such a perfect and wonderful friend. Lucky. Me. Since I've been in L.A., no one has 'been there' for me like Mika has. I don't know how I would have done this infernal city without her.



.
So this month has been less about occasions to celebrate than friendship. These three lovelies have enriched my life in measures that I probably don't deserve. Always here for me. Always loving. Always effortlessly. I am fortunate, and I never take it for granted.

Oh, before I forget, dear reader, I am finishing up a rather lengthy bread experiment and will be back at the page in a short bit to share it. I just have a few more things to tinker with to make sure the formula is up to snuff. Until then, you can make this cake.

Have a look.



Gather together:

(For the cake)
1 1/2 cups Giusto's Baker's Choice flour
1 cup cane sugar
3 large eggs
1 cup heavy cream
1 stick unsalted butter
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1 TB pure vanilla extract
Zest of 1 large lemon
A few rasps of nutmeg

(For the glaze)
3 TB lemon juice
3 TB powdered sugar
Zest of one small lemon
A couple of rasps of nutmeg

Preheat the ov to 350. Cut a strip of parchment paper and line a standard 9x5" loaf pan with it. The idea is to cut it so that it's only wide enough to cover the bottom and long enough to come up over the top of the pan at the sides about two inches on either side. These will be nifty little handles to lift the cake out of the pan later on. Butter the parchment/sides of the pan. Set aside.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, salt and baking powder. Whisk in the zest and the nutmeg. Set aside.

Using a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar. When fluffy, add the eggs, one at a time. Beat thoroughly. Beat in the vanilla. Turn the mixer down to low, add the cream, and beat just until thoroughly incorporated.

Using a rubber spatula, and broad, sweeping strokes, fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients in two passes, making sure that you don't overmix or the cake will be tough.

Get the batter into the awaiting pan and smooth out the top. Bake till a skewer shoved into the center of the thing comes out clean. Be sure to flip it round toward the end of the baking so that it browns evenly. Mine took an hour (?).

When the cake is done, cool in a wire rack for about 15 minutes, then carefully pull the cake out of the pan, using the parchment as handles. Cool for another 30 minutes.

When the cake is cool, mix together the glaze ingredients: the powdered sugar, lemon juice, zest and nutmeg, whisking out the lumps. Using a pastry brush, brush the mixture all over the cake (including the sides!), making sure to drizzle a bunch in that crack at the top.

Give to a friend, preferably one who takes you to the airport.




To the staff of life!

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

100% Red Fife Walnut Bread : Hand-Milled, Hand-Bolted

Picking up where we left off with bolting flour vs. commercial high extraction vs. Tartine's 'high-extraction' (50/50 bread flour whole wheat flour mix), I have been working busily with bolting and I've arrived at some things I would like to share with you.


100% Red Fife

Baking is really expensive when you take experimentation and 'lost loaves' into consideration. So, I love that I'm able to tackle some hardcore experiments over here and post the thoroughly tested conclusions so that you can make these breads without wondering if they are going to end up in the trash. My main goal is to make sure that the breads and techniques on this blog will work for you, which is why I post so many pictures and really go into detail about the methods employed for each loaf, since all flours are not created equally. It's nice to see the consistency of the levain and the texture of the dough as it changes from mixup through final fermentation. I'm really visual, so I love it when people share their bread making steps through photographs.

So, with home-milling, we are getting into more complex territory. The doughs that we are creating are far more volatile and require us to be more attuned than we are accustomed to. For example, freshly-milled grains must be used immediately after milling, or aged, as I discussed in an earlier post that first introduced the method of bolting and aging your flour. As well, breads made with freshly-milled flour ferments much more quickly than store-bought flour, so, likely your fermentation times will be shortened. When working with a new grain that I've milled, I keep a close eye on the fermentation rate, and use a 3-hour bulk fermentation and 9-hour final fermentation as baseline times. I check in at these points and if the dough is fermenting quickly, I can stop fermentation at either bulk or final, and if it's fermenting more slowly, I can push both of those stages past my baseline fermentation times. This is my first go round with Red Fife, and I was able to push a 4-hour bulk fermentation, noting that while it was not super speedy, it was definitely fermenting faster than an aged/store-bought flour. I knew by the look of it that it was going to need a shorter final ferment, but I dare say, the next time around, I think that I could conceivably push this fermentation time to 12 hours, so you may want to play with that when making this loaf. With home-milling you are the definitive pilot, where store-bought flour allows us to sort of coast on autopilot in some ways.


Chad's current book does not go into milling techniques, likely because not many people have mills, and to author a bread book, it's probably wise to tap into a wider market. The wider market purchases flour, hence the 50/50 mix that he describes as a viable option for high-extraction flour throughout his current book. He offers the option of purchasing high-extraction flour, but does not talk about bolting flour, so perhaps this is not a method that he is fond of. I cannot imagine that it's a very reasonable aim in a large-scale bakery unless you change its entire format. Admittedly, bolting flour is labor-intensive and it is indeed not the least expensive pursuit since the total bolted flour that you ultimately arrive at is a fraction of the starting amount; but if I am milling my own flour, there is nothing more satisfying than eating loaves of bread whose flour has been completely produced by my own hand rather than supplementing it with store-bought flour, regardless the sophistication of commercial high-extraction flour.

Bolted flour is an incredible thing. It allows us to 'lighten' our loaves while still remaining whole grain. Remember the in-depth post where I talk about the difference between commercial high-extraction and bolted flour. With hand-bolted flour, we cannot truly quantify (at home anyway, maybe if you had a lab...) the percentage of bran, germ and endosperm that is present, but we can deduce that it is pretty high, because whilst working with bolted flour, one must think of it as a whole grain flour when thinking of the outcome of the loaf because this is how it behaves. No wide-open crumbs here, but the flavor and texture and moisture in the resulting loaves made with bolted flour are incomparable.



The Red Fife I employed for this loaf is from Mendocino Grain Project, a sustainable and locally-minded granary in Ukiah, California. For my last project, I made 100% Red Fife scones with it and they were fantastic. So much so that I made a couple subsequent batches to share with friends who were thrilled with them.

I realize that I am catering to the slim margin of folks who might have a mill with these upcoming posts whose breads are all based on the art of bolting flour, but bear with me. Perhaps it will inspire you to invest in a mill yourself if you actually have a place to go that will offer some guidance. I am still learning, just like you, and it is here that I am happy to share my discoveries.

I like to think of myself as the first into the pool to test the waters. I think they call it being a guinea pig. Something like that. Funny story: my friend Christina came with me to the farmer's market. We were at the lovely Asian produce stand, stuffed with intriguing oddities that neither of us know how to use but would love to learn more about, when she picked up a feathery bundle of greens and wondered aloud how to cook such an exotic thing. I suggested that she purchase it, you know, experiment with it. She did agree, dear reader, but only after she shoved a slender green leaf into my mouth crying 'here, you die first!' Of course I didn't die. And I did buy a bunch with happy results. Guinea pig, me.



I will say that I have been fortunate with the whole 'lost loaf' situation. I have not had to pitch many breads for lack of success. What did Newton say? 'If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.' So, Robertson, Hamelman, Peterson, Reinhart, Forkish, and countless authors' articles that I have found on the internet about flour, grains and fermentation, and how to make this whole thing work, have all lain this platform where from to start. I owe a debt of gratitude for all of their effort. I must say, however, that I have found almost zero information about bolting flour on the internet after a significant amount of time searching, and nothing in the books that I own. I did find a slim, archaic passage about hand-bolting whole flour in the days of yore, so, what I am presenting here in these posts is a little trail-blazey and I am all too happy to share it all with you. Free of charge. I was thinking that it would be nice to write a bread book (spawned by numerous requests from readers and friends), this is part of the reason why you have seen a meager few posts in the past two months. I took a little time to think about this, whether this was something that I wanted to pursue. I have been stacking up loaves, you know, researching, experimenting, and holding them back in case I chose to do a book thing. But this week I decided that I prefer doing things this way, you know, gratis. This is my way of giving something back to the world that I often feel gives so little and takes far, far too much, most often for personal gain, and without consideration of others. You only want to make great bread for the dinner table. That makes two of us. My profit is knowing how over-the-moon you feel when you pull a perfect loaf from your oven whose formula you have discovered on this blog. I also love the dialogue I have with the bakers who take time to write, and I think that there is a certain amount of nobility that comes with helping my brethren for the sake of enhancing his life in some small but significant way. Perhaps my experiments will be seen as contributions to the bread world, even if privately. We can all learn from one another, the giants from the dwarves, the dwarves that stand upon their shoulders for a broader view.

I know that Josey Baker is doing some extraordinary work with whole grains at his bakery The Mill. I got a chance to meet him some months back and to try a few of his loaves. A completely different style of bread than Chad's. Chad's bakery bakes up the style of bread that you will find in the book, obviously, and his loaves employ a large degree of white flour. Not a bad thing. I, for one, am not one of these whole grain zealots who think that white flour is evil. I love the tackiness that comes only from a perfectly fermented loaf of bread employing white flour. Chad's bread is definitely his style of bread, and it's beyond remarkable. I've tried to describe it justly, but the only way to know just how fantastic it is you have to experience it for yourself. Josey's bread is on the opposite side of the spectrum. I believe he told me only one or two of his dozens of breads use a small amount of white flour. They are all whole grain, and he mills it all himself. The resulting loaves are complex, rich and 'serious'. Gorgeous breads. And he is a lovely, lovely man with a quick smile and a playful personality. We talked a bit about milling when I met with him. I had just gotten my Komo, and it was he who inspired me to begin experimenting with breads employing 100% whole grains. I was, admittedly, of the camp that believed it was near impossible to make a great loaf of bread if it didn't employ at least some white flour. After tasting his, I could not have been proven more wrong.



I don't know if Josey bolts his flour, from the taste of it, I would say no. I think that he is a master of fermentation, and the loaves that he produces are purely his own signature, just like Chad's. Whatever the flour - hand-milled, store-bought, whatever brand - I think that it's important for all of us as bakers to find our own signature style. When making the breads from this blog, you are making what I believe to be the 'ideal' bread on a given day. They don't taste like Chad's, they don't taste like Josey's, and the methods that I employ determine what my bread will ultimately turn out to be. Chad loves a whole wheat/white starter, I'm not a fan. I'm not sure what type Josey employs, but I stand fiercely by my rye starter and I have no interest in changing this. It is the foundation of my breads. It is the foundation of my signature, as are my hydration preferences (Chad's hydration is impossibly high, impressively, impossibly high; my hat's off to anyone who can achieve it), and the fact that I bolt my flour when Chad would probably disagree with this method, preferring to use commercial high-extraction flour and his 50/50 white/whole wheat blend to pair with his whole grain breads, arriving at near-mystical result. But it doesn't matter what anyone's preferences are in our own breads, the only thing that matters is what resonates for us on this path. No right or wrong here folks. Just bread. Our way. When I stand on the shoulders of giants - Josey Baker, Nancy Silverton, and the list is long - what I am looking for is a road all my own. I believe that I have arrived, or at least I like the direction that I am headed, and most of all, I am thrilled that you all are here with me as I continue to plod along.

My method.

100% RED FIFE WALNUT BREAD : HAND-MILLED, HAND-BOLTED



LEVAIN DAY

Three days before you plan to make your levain, throw your starter into overdrive by feeding it three times each day. On the fourth day, build your levain:

10g 100% dark rye, 100% hydration starter
75g h2o
75g freshly milled Red Fife flour, I used grains from Mendocino Grain Project (MGP)

Mine fermented for 8 hours 50 minutes



DOUGH DAY

You will need:

All of the levain
350g h2o (you can try pushing this; try pushing it to 360g perhaps. You have some leeway for play here)
209g freshly milled MGP Red Fife flour
291G freshly milled MGP Red Fife flour that has been bolted through a #50 screen
125g toasted and cooled walnuts
12g kosher salt, I used Diamond

When the levain is at its peak, mix it with the flour and h2o until you reach a shaggy mass. Autolyse for 2 hours.

Just mixed


After Autolyse

After the autolyse, squish the salt into the dough so that it is thoroughly incorporated. Now begin your 4-hour bulk fermentation. Here you will perform a series of turns until the dough really starts to expand and feel tight. You will fold in the walnuts at the second turn, working to keep it all in within the dough as much as you can. It's fine if a few pieces peek through, but by the end of the bulk, the majority of it should be encased in the dough or the peeking nuts will burn on bake day.


nuts...


encased

You will not perform turns through the entire 4-hour bulk, instead, you will intuitively know when it is time to stop by the rate of the dough's expansion, and here you will use a ginger hand, there are lots of nuts to contend with, see. I stopped my turns at 2 hours 15 minutes and popped the dough in the fridge for the remainder of the bulk because it was really warm in L.A.

After the bulk fermentation, scrape the dough onto a worktable that you have dusted with brown rice flour, gather it into a loose round and let it rest for about 10 or 15 minutes.



After it has rested, shape it into a taut boule. This time round I did a 'Forkish fold' rather than using the twist method that I do, where you fold the dough up into a neat little package, and pop it into a banneton or a bowl lined with a linen that has been dusted with brown rice flour, seam side DOWN. This way when you unearth the thing tomorrow, the seam lands upside and this creates some fabulous rustic fissures rather than the neat patterns we get from clean slashes made by razors and scissored nips.

Get it into the fridge and ferment 9 hours. 

BAKE DAY

One hour before you plan to bake the bread, preheat the oven to 500 degrees, installed with a baking stone and both halves of your combo cooker.

After the hour preheat, remove the dough bowl from the fridge, place a piece of parchment over the mouth of it, then a pizza peel on top of this, now flip the whole thing over so that the dough ends up on top of the parchment and peel. Remove the linen (if you have over dusted, now is the time to brush away any loose flour. I know, I have been the victim of some snowy loaves too).



Slide it into the shallow end of the combo cooker. Cover with the fat end and steam the loaf at 500 degrees for 15 minutes. Now turn the oven down to 475 and bake for another 15. After the steam, remove the lid and bake till chestnut brown.


steamed

You may have to toggle the oven between 450 and 475. Take the internal temp to 210 degrees.

Allow to cool for at least an hour, preferably two, before slicing. The interior will be moist beyond belief, the crust will shatter, though it has a teensy bit more muscle to it than those loaves made with at least a bit of white flour, and the flavor will drive you mad.





To the staff of life!

(This post was sent to Susan's Wild Yeast Blog)