Trouble Comes in Threes

This started out as a sentimental post about my morning spent baking my grandfather’s signature bread.  I’d even gotten out a picture of him to share with you.  Unfortunately, the post is not going to finish as I’d intended.

Opa’s bread is a really decadent enriched loaf, flavored generously with butter, honey and a couple of eggs.  Although he baked it in a loaf pan and never referred to it as such, it’s really a brioche.  As a child I eagerly ate slices completely unadorned as soon as the bread had cooled. 

But as you’ve undoubtedly deduced, today's loaves - one intended as a hostess gift for a Halloween party – didn’t come out well. 

I considered not posting a blog after my horrible showing.  In the end, I decided in favor of giving you more visibility into the experience of learning to bake – ugly crusts and all.  Maybe it’ll help me remember the lessons next time, maybe it’ll encourage my fellow novice bakers, maybe it’ll give you a good snigger.

Don’t get me wrong - the loaves survived.  But they emerged from the oven ugly enough that they were no longer appropriate as the gifts they were meant to be.

What started out well quickly unraveled during the glazing step near the end of the final rise.  (Gah!  Even now it galls me to think of it - how could I have gotten so far only to fail then???)  I can identify three key errors that led to my homely loaves:

The light spots in the loaf are where the towel tore away pieces of the surface - the stripes are a result of the undiluted yolk glaze.

1. The glazing error²:  my first glazing error was that I didn’t dilute my egg yolk with a little water before brushing it onto the loaf.  As the loaf baked, rather than adding a uniform warm shine to the crust, the streaks created by my pastry brush got darker and more pronounced as the bread baked.  My loaf became striped (and not in some cool, intentional way).  If that weren’t enough, my second glazing error was that I got impatient and applied this undiluted glaze before the loaf was completely finished rising, then covered the loaf back up with a towel.  When I pulled the towel off the loaf...well, do I even have to say it?  Some of the surface of the loaf came with it.  Draaaaat! 
2. The knocking error:  I was afraid the breaks in the loaf’s surface created by The Glazing Error would affect the ‘pop’ (or final rise burst) the loaf would get when it hit the heat of the oven.  Ha!  You know what really affects your pop?  Losing your grip on the panned loaf and dropping it.  One of my loaves fell about a foot and knocked hard against the baking stone I was placing it on.  Now that takes the air out of your loaf.  I watched in alarm as my loaf deflated. 
3. The real error:  In the end, the real error I made was lack of focus.  Because we needed to get to the party, I didn’t pay as much attention to the process as I need to – especially with my limited experience.  It led to some poor choices that resulted in two really ugly loaves of bread.

What I salvaged from the day was this:  having now reminisced about my beloved grandfather’s bread, I’m ready to go again tomorrow morning.  Eager as I am, I may even start tonight to see if an overnight rise in the fridge doesn’t enhance the flavor.  Look for the results tomorrow…if it turns out to be another list of lessons learned, let’s hope they’re new ones!

Baking, Books and Boston Brown Bread

Baking, Books and Boston Brown Bread

This morning Hi-Rise's Boston Brown Bread is in the oven from Maggie Glezer's Artisan Baking. This is labeled as a ‘Beginner’ recipe in Maggie’s book, and as a quick bread it probably should be. Still, I found myself over-thinking the use of the word “batter.”  I could tell that my mixture wasn’t as wet as it should be, but how much milk to add? I settled on a consistency not unlike toothpaste:

I can’t wait for it to come out – the molasses in the batter leant it a warm root beer flavor that will go beautifully with some nice black tea this morning. The cans you bake it in give it irresistible charm.

Getting out Maggie’s book made me think about the resources with which I’ve armed myself to learn to bake. While we wait and see how this brown bread comes out, I’ll share my favorites thus far.

Good to the Grain
As I mentioned in the first post, this is the book that started my journey. I was interested in baking with more whole grains, and Kim Boyce’s straightforward yet wonderfully creative recipes make it a perfect place to begin. There is enough detail on technique and rationale without making baking daunting. Everything I’ve baked out of this book has turned out (seriously – small miracle) and everything has been delicious, even to my five-year-old.

Artisan Baking
What I’ve learned from Maggie’s book thus far is that I’m not an artisan baker. Yet. I think my mistake with this one was starting with advanced recipes, which is why I went back to the beginning this morning. What is really wonderful and inspiring about Maggie’s book is its survey of some of America’s most authentic artisan bakers and their bakeries.

Whole Grain Breads
For my first Peter Reinhart purchase I opted to skip The Bread Baker’s Apprentice and go instead to this volume. I’m not sure about the wisdom of that choice…it’s perhaps like going straight to the black diamond ski slope when one has never skied before. Still, Peter’s experience at instructing comes through, and it’s from this book that I learned most of what I’ve learned in the past month about grains and the chemistry of baking. Also, Peter’s instructions for creating a whole wheat or whole rye sourdough starter are wonderfully detailed for folks like me that need a lot of guidance.

The Fresh Loaf
It’s not a book, and for that, in many ways it’s better. thefreshloaf.com is a wonderfully supportive and vibrant forum for amateur bakers. There’s a broad mix of both novice and experienced bakers with a little something to learn from each of them. The lessons are a great place to start for a good foundation in the basics of bread baking. Thanks floydm!

Perfect timing. The breads are out of the oven and they look and smell wonderful, bursting roughly out of their shiny cans. Who can resist that? Impatient as I am, I can’t wait until they cool to taste it. (Another lesson to learn.) This version isn’t steamed, it’s baked, which makes it a touch easier to execute. I couldn’t get it out of the can in one piece – next time I’ll line the cans with parchment paper. That doesn’t deter me. As I slice into it, it’s still lovely and moist inside with a nice crispy crust on top. Overall, it’s quite like a muffin. The molasses flavor is mellow and just slightly sweet, and the mix of rye, corn, whole wheat and all-purpose flours give it a really hearty body.

That’s it for baking, books and Boston Brown Bread this morning. The tea is ready too, and I’m ready for breakfast!  

Now that's what I call breakfast.

The Search for Sustenance Begins

I’m going to make an earnest attempt at baking really good bread.

It’s not that I haven’t tried before.  But the loaves I’ve produced in the past have had more in common with pieces of sporting equipment than anything you’d want to ingest.  Truly – I can’t stress this enough – I’m an absolutely hideous baker.  Years ago, acknowledging this short coming led me to the conclusion that baking bread was best left to the experts. 

But an epiphany at the neighborhood supermarket six months ago has forced me to reconsider this position.  There in the bakery, surrounded by the best loaves the store had to offer, I felt bereft.  Where were the whole grains?  Where were the airy, soft interiors nestled inside of a chewy/crispy curst?  Where was the character?  And where – WHERE - was the lovely warm aroma? 

I looked around the store in alarm - had anyone else noticed what was missing?  No one seemed to notice anything amiss.  Perhaps I was overreacting.

But soon thereafter, I happened to have the pleasure of hearing Kim Boyce talk about her new whole grain baking book, Good to the Grain at a local culinary school. 

Ha!  I wasn’t alone! 

There were others that felt that something intrinsic is lost in the industrialization of bread.  (It’s not for lack of trying, but the truth is that bread in its most authentic form is something that simply doesn’t travel well through space or time.  It’s best produced locally and eaten quickly.) 

But back to that evening at the culinary school…the most important lesson I took away from that night was this:  after trying my hand with a few of the recipes, it felt remotely possible that I might one day produce a loaf of bread that I’d actually serve.  Emboldened by Kim’s confident assurances and inspired by her creativity with whole grains, I returned home that night determined to try again.

And thus, I began – and so I’ll continue…

I am going to attempt to learn to bake a variety of very good breads this year.  I think to do that to my satisfaction, I need to work on the craft daily.  So that’s what I’m going to do every morning, and I’ll document the experience here.

(Don’t worry.  I’m not going to bake my way through Peter Reinhart’s The Bread Baker’s Apprentice.)

Wish me luck.  Join me if you’d like and how you’d like.  I’d love have some company for the trip.