sourdough: one rise or two?

With a new sourdough, you can't assume it will be strong enough for two rises and still have some oven spring left. Some do and some don't, and is it worth the trouble? I like to compare one rise to two, which is what you see below.

This is one batch of dough. It had sponge of about 8 hrs.+, and then mixed to include about a tablespoon of oil and a teaspoon of ground flax seed. The first rise was in the 'fridge overnight and then at room temperature until doubled (about 3 hrs. on the kitchen counter). At that point, one loaf was docked and baked, the rectangular loaf.


The other half of the dough was punched down and shaped into an oval, and had a second rise on the counter, at 73F. After almost doubling, it was then docked and baked. Both loaves were baked for 35 minutes in a 400F oven without steam.



The flavor is only slightly more sour in the oval loaf. The size of the holes in the crumb is the same. The big difference is in the crust. After a single rise, the crust is pale and soft, like most Americans (and my kids) like bread. After two rises, it's darker and crunchy, in a more European style crust.

In this one experiment, I learned 3 useful things: 1) this sourdough is strong enough for a sponge and two rises, 2) a second rise = more crunch, and 3) if I want to make it dramatically more sour or get big bubbles, I'm going to have to work hard at it. And for #3, I probably won't bother because my kids hate real sour with holes the jelly can fall through, and I'm okay with that. It tastes great, and I'll probably only do a second rise if that's more convenient to the schedule of the rest of my life.

Sourdough: sleeper awakes

fungi

sunny woods

tired butterfly

Jimsom Weed

pleated fairy mushrooms

Iowa grapes

New Sourdough

Despite having a less than ideal summer, in early August something wonderful happened: I captured a new wild sourdough. The combination of wild yeast and symbiont bacteria is unique to a place, so the sourdough from my backyard is quite literally the taste of home.

In the photo is the first loaf of bread from the new sourdough, sliced up and about to be part of a backyard picnic. Not shown: my kids circling like sharks.

The River, floodstage

For a lot of people in Siouxland, this was The Summer That Did Not Go As Planned. The Missouri River flooded and many people in S. Dakota, Nebraska, and Iowa had to evacuate their houses on less than a week's notice at the end of May. Before the flood, there was a very wet spring, and the high waters in July and August were accompanied by drought. Hard times for many people, from ranchers to casino workers. People are now returning to their homes, only to find them unlivable.

Our house didn't flood, but it didn't sell, either. My camera had a mechanical failure and hasn't been fixed yet, because the washer, dryer, bathroom vent wiring, and 'fridge have all needed professional help. So I've borrowed the camera of my oldest child to resume blogging--please bear with me as the blog comes back.

The photo shows the Missouri about 3 feet above flood stage, in NW Iowa. The water's normally on the far side of the trees. It's lower water than was predicted, but it's estimated the fast-moving water scoured about 8 feet off the river bed, silt that was dumped downstream.

spring?!

This morning.

sprouts 3

sprouts 4

sprouts 2

sprouts 1

Selling & illusion

After several years in one house, we're trying to sell it and move into another.

We've done all the things we're supposed to do: dutifully watched the makeovers of much more expensive houses online, courtesy HGTV; gotten realtors' advice and mostly taken it; painted and arranged and emptied. Compressing my kitchen is pushing the boundaries of physics, because either it's bigger on the inside than on the outside or black holes are NOT formed by too great a density of matter causing a collapse.

So the kids' stuff is all supposed to be tidy as only an adult can make it, and adults are supposed to have small wardrobes, few books, and no hobbies. Except yardwork is supposed to be our hobby--our yard is supposed to look perfect at all times, perfect as only petrochemical toxins can make it. I've always had a private peace with the Dandelion Nation, but we're supposed to be at war.

The kitchen ought to look like no one cooks in it, and the only permitted smells are cookies, cinnamon rolls, or bread. It was recommended that I keep individual blobs of cookie dough and cinnamon roll dough in the freezer, to pop one in the oven just before a scheduled showing. The smells of bacon or frying garlic are specifically to be avoided. Riiiiiiiiiight.

Oh, and my house is to be show ready in an hour at all times: dry and polished sinks, spotless bathroom, clean floors and vacuumed carpet, authorized smells only!

That's not even the start of most house staging advice, where the unwritten rule seems to be: sell your children on ebay to buy small modern furniture.

The express purpose of all this is to make a subjective appeal to the buyer's fantasies. It's supposed to be clutter-free to create the illusion of space. It's supposed to be free of photos, religious images of any kind, and any flamboyant decor so the buyers can imagines it as their house, not mine. It's supposed to be calm, neutral, and warm to allow the buyer to imagine themselves living there stress-free. The perfect yard work is supposed to show how meticulously the house has been cared for. And the smell of baking in the kitchen....

...no one is willing to say.

Don't get me wrong. I kinda like my house with more than half my stuff taken out of it and resting comfortably in storage. There is something to be said for light fixtures younger than I. Thinking about my house in terms of obvious purpose, clear traffic flow, and enhancing the best feature of each room I don't mind.

But gosh, does anyone but me think this is SO 1952? As in, Father comes home from work and does lots of lawn care every evening, and Mother devotes every moment to care of the house and making cookies. Or the help does it. Children are few, tidy, and invisible.

I don't know quite what the alternatives are. But it's weird. Good thing I'm too busy polishing sinks to get to the bottom of all this fantasy.

camoflage

Still Here

Hi! So, yes, I fell off the earth a while. Sorry about that.

I'd like to regale you with tales of my adventures, but then my real life already has too many I-couldn't-make-it-up-if-I-tried elements for me to start making things up.

The unglamourous fact is that I got really sick the day after my last post & then got a job. And not the kind of job that will impress people, either. No, my new job is to get my house ready to show/sell and it has eclipsed the rest of my interests. My camera is languishing. I haven't written a thing, and Not Making a Huge Mess has become a cooking goal.

There are women who blog this sort of thing, but I don't expect to. For one thing, prepping a house to sell means making it conventional, and why would you want to see that? And I don't want to photograph the process, because my primary job hasn't gone away: I already have to worry about not getting paint on my toddler & trying to do 2 things at once will not be improved by adding a third.

Am I learning new things? Yes.
Do I have tangible results? Yes.
Does it give me stress? Yes.
Is it empowering? I'd rather feel empowered by spending time with my rifle.

Still, painting gives me time to think & I often find myself doing story analysis while I paint. I hope that will later pay off.

Baby Bok Choy

point & shoot pretties