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

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.

A Soft Crust Surprise

Okay, this bread began as breakfast gone awry. But it turned out really well, and it achieved something difficult: a soft crust without adding any fat, egg, or other sneaky trick. It's not the right recipe if you're a complete beginner, but you don't need to be a gluten goddess, either.

There is one sneaky trick, with the salt, but I'll explain at the end.

The Gruel:
3/4 c. rolled oats (the 5 min. cook kind)
3 c. water

Boil the oats in the water till it's thickened, the oats are hardly distinct, and the volume somewhat reduced. When you think of Charles Dickens, you're there. Take it off the heat to cool to a yeast-friendly temperature.

The Poolish:
1/2 t. dry yeast (I like Red Star)
1 c. flour

Pour the warm gruel into your bread bowl. Scrape any papery film on the sides of the pot in, too; that's soluble fibre and will dissolve again easily. Add about half a teaspoon of dry yeast (NOT quick rise yeast, which is evil) and about a cup of flour. Mix together well, cover, and let it ferment all day and overnight.

In the morning, you will have an unlovely bowl of stinky, bubbly, swamp juice.

The Dough:
Flour
Salt

Add flour till it starts to come together well. Then add salt to the desired taste, and finish it to a soft, but not sticky, dough. (The sneaky salt trick is below.)

Yes, I ought to have quantities, but I hardly ever use them myself. The salt was about half a tablespoon, which is a bit more than I'd use for a French dough. A bland addition, like oatmeal, and sourness from a long poolish both need a bit more salt.

Oil your bread bowl, drop the dough in and then flip it to coat with oil. Cover and let double in bulk. In my winter kitchen (temp. mid-50s) that took about 3 hrs.--it's like having a fancy bread retarder for free several months of the year! The top picture is the doubled dough in an ordinary bread bowl.

Gently turn it out of the bowl and press out all the air bubbles. Divide it in half & shape each half into a boule; set on the baking pan. I use cornmeal on mine, but whatever you ordinarily use. Cover it, because it will dry easily.

Ideally, they would then double and be docked. But I didn't do that. After an hour, I docked them and put them in the 400F oven 'cause another couple of hours' rise was not in my schedule. I baked them for 40 minutes, which is about the minimum for that size. That's an electric oven, no steam.

The Surprise
The crust was soft when it came out of the oven. The crust was still soft after it cooled. The crust was still soft the next day! No oil, no egg, just a soft crust with pure grain taste.

The crumb was even throughout: no big bubbles saying,"Look at me! I'm so artisan!"

My kids think this is the perfect bread. It doesn't have any little oatmeal lumps in the crumb or crust, which happens if you make it with normal cooked oatmeal. It has a soft, dense crumb with the short second rise. The kids hate those big holes the jam falls through. And the crust is good for the weird little aliens who don't want a nice European crunchy crust. It's pretty much perfect with honey.

The Salt Trick
How to get the salt right when you're working without a recipe: know the taste of the dough. When I used to bake all the time, the bread I made most was a French poolish and we had tweaked the recipe till it was consistently just what we wanted. First step was to pour the measured salt into my palm, so I'd get an idea what a certain amount looked like in my hand. That way, I learned to get the right amount of salt for that recipe by eye. And I tasted the raw dough. That way I knew what the right amount of salt tasted like. Day after day, I measured by eye in my hand and tasted the dough.

Making bread at home, I'm usually working with approximately the same amount of dough, so I know roughly how much salt I need to begin with. But working without a recipe, like here, I always begin with a little less than I'll think I need. When it's well mixed but not yet kneaded, I pop a raisin-sized piece in my mouth. If it tastes right, I knead just a minute or two (kneading is vastly overrated if your flour's good quality). If the salt is lacking, I add a bit of salt as I start to knead and then check again.

Only you know what the right taste is for you. I prefer less salt than many recipes call for, but I'll try to describe it. When I put the bit of dough in my mouth, I should taste a little bit of salt immediately. After a few seconds, I should taste more salt as it dissolves. If I don't taste it till it's had time to dissolve, it's not enough. If it's so salty I notice it over the flour or it's sharp, that's too much salt and it needs more flour.

Once you've mastered the salt trick, you can experiment easily. If a dough has a sweetener, you might need a tiny bit more salt. If the dough has something more bland than wheat flour, like oatmeal or potato, it will need more salt. Fresh herbs and sun dried tomatoes need only a tiny bit extra. It'll give you a lot of confidence to play.

Bambini Jesu (panini)

Bambini Jesu: how to

Babies made of bread are an Italian custom at Christmas: Bambino. They're usually pretty big and tapered, a fairly complicated shape to make (especially if you only do it once a year). The eyes would be raisins on a traditional one. The goal isn't to make the face look realistic, but to make fancy swaddling bands.

I hardly bake bread at all now, so it's a big deal to the kids. They really wanted to do it themselves this year. So we made little ones with a basic mock braid.

The only sneaky trick here is the dough, which is a chilled challah. This is challah made with oil rather than butter, so it's pretty stiff without being brittle. Note in the pictures that there's no stray flour on the counter: you want it with just enough flour that it doesn't stick to the counter. I set it in the fridge at the end of the first rise. A couple of hours later it was chilled throughout and ready to shape.

Once it's in flat pieces it warms quickly as you handle it and gets too sticky and stretchy for little kids, so don't dawdle. I made the cuts with a bench knife and showed them how to do the mock braid. The only tricky part is to lay the dough strips gently, without stretching them, and that gets really difficult if the dough warms up. Again, they're on an unfloured surface.

Then they rise on the pan and go into the oven at normal challah temperature. The kids were in bed when the bambini came out of the oven, but they had them for breakfast Christmas morning. These two were each a quarter of a recipe of challah; the other half got braided and baked after the bambini for meatball sandwiches. Challah makes great French toast, too.

Bread trough

19th cent. bread trough: East Texas farm. Originally owned by a Choctaw Indian woman who married in 1853. She married into an extended family of Anglo settlers who'd come to Texas in a wagon train immediately following the Revolution of 1836. The Choctaw were peaceful agriculturalists on the Mississippi; it is not known how or where she met her husband.

The trough is extremely smooth. It has straight sides, inside and out, which is probably explains why they were called troughs rather than bowls. One could mix, knead, and rise dough in it without a table, an obvious advantage for a pioneering homesteader. The ends on the underside have shallow nicks that appear to be from a knife tip. I guess the bowl would have been turned over to cover rising dough on a counter and got the nicks that way.