I let a loaf go too long in primary fermentation and the dough got a little sloppy. The gluten was clearly starting to break down. The dough was very extensible and somewhat mushy. I was afraid it would be a total loss, but it still came up a bit in the oven and was actually quite good. I took most of it snowshoeing with Andy and Ryan, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. The long fermentation (overnight in the fridge, plus all day on the counter) but out a lot of dark color in the crust, and I pulled it out of the oven early (to make room for some nachos that were going in for dinner). I was afraid that the crumb would be gummy and underdone, but it was actually quite moist and tasty. More like the chewy quality of Great Harvest loaves than the dry crumb of most bakery hearth breads.
The rice flour is working quite well to prevent sticking in the willow proofing basket, and my zero bench flour policy (I use water instead—on the counter, on my hands, and on my bench knife) is holding up. I keep forgetting to dust the top of my shaped loaf with the rice flour before inverting it into the basket—I think that would minimize sticking even further.
My spreadsheet is working quite well, too. I should add a section that calculates varying percentages and admixtures of other flours, such as whole wheat and rye.
In today’s loaf, I cut down the proportion of barm in the final dough, and I noticed better gluten strength. That makes sense. The gluten in the ripe, wet barm is quite broken down and too much of that soupy material in the final dough ought to yield a weaker dough (and it appears to do so). I’m currently mixing about 25% barm into my final dough, with an overnight retard in the fridge and completing bulk fermentation at room temp on the counter on day 2. Still keeping the barm at 150% hydration.
Tonight I mixed a slightly stiffer dough, at 65% hydration. We’ll see what that yields tomorrow. I’m beginning to think about getting a couche and trying to make some baguettes or batards. Perhaps I’ll order one once my Cloche arrives.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Breakthrough! A Decent-Looking Top Crust!
Okay, this is a watershed moment in my bread baking career. I just removed from the oven the first boule I’ve ever made that actually looked like artisan bread, from a bakery. It’s rough and a little misshapen, but it sprung up in the oven, it has those beautiful spiral grooves from the willow banneton, and—this best of all—it has a golden top crust. Finally! A golden top crust. I almost can’t believe it. I’ve been “haunted” by a ghostly white and unattractive top crust since my very first loaf. I just hope this isn’t a fluke!
Now I feel confident in claiming that the attractive top crust is a function of steam—lots of it—and high heat early in the bake. I was able to get more steam this time through than ever before. So much that it literally escaped in a cloud around the seals of my oven’s door. (Hmm, perhaps I ought to think about replacing those seals, eh?) One of the keys to getting lots of steam is long preheating times. I preheated the oven for about 45 minutes, and many bakers suggest a minimum of 1 hour. You need to use a steam pan with a heat high capacity. I noticed a big difference in steam production when I switched from a brownie pan to a cast-iron frying pan. I haven’t yet tried lava rocks, as some have suggested. One final thought on steam creation: I think it’s best to add a moderate amount of water to the pan for the initial burst, but not so much that all the heat in the pan is dissipated. If some of the heat is retained, it may be possible to do another “steam injection” at, say, two minutes into the bake. Concerning spritzing: I don’t think it contributes much steam volume, as compared to the preheated-water-in-the-preheated-frypan method.
Today’s loaf was 70% hydration: 400g of 150% hydration barm mixed with 200g unbleached bread flour, 75g whole wheat flour, 25g rye flour, and 100g of water. I gave it a bulk rise in a cool kitchen overnight, then a quick fold and shape on the bench in the morning, followed by a three hour proof in a willow banneton dusted with rice flour. I turned the proofed loaf out onto parchment upon a peel and slid it into a 500-degree oven. The flavor is sweet, tangy, and complex. The crumb is moderately open, not dense like sandwich bread, and not wide open with gaping holes, like ciabatta.
Now I feel confident in claiming that the attractive top crust is a function of steam—lots of it—and high heat early in the bake. I was able to get more steam this time through than ever before. So much that it literally escaped in a cloud around the seals of my oven’s door. (Hmm, perhaps I ought to think about replacing those seals, eh?) One of the keys to getting lots of steam is long preheating times. I preheated the oven for about 45 minutes, and many bakers suggest a minimum of 1 hour. You need to use a steam pan with a heat high capacity. I noticed a big difference in steam production when I switched from a brownie pan to a cast-iron frying pan. I haven’t yet tried lava rocks, as some have suggested. One final thought on steam creation: I think it’s best to add a moderate amount of water to the pan for the initial burst, but not so much that all the heat in the pan is dissipated. If some of the heat is retained, it may be possible to do another “steam injection” at, say, two minutes into the bake. Concerning spritzing: I don’t think it contributes much steam volume, as compared to the preheated-water-in-the-preheated-frypan method.
Today’s loaf was 70% hydration: 400g of 150% hydration barm mixed with 200g unbleached bread flour, 75g whole wheat flour, 25g rye flour, and 100g of water. I gave it a bulk rise in a cool kitchen overnight, then a quick fold and shape on the bench in the morning, followed by a three hour proof in a willow banneton dusted with rice flour. I turned the proofed loaf out onto parchment upon a peel and slid it into a 500-degree oven. The flavor is sweet, tangy, and complex. The crumb is moderately open, not dense like sandwich bread, and not wide open with gaping holes, like ciabatta.
Wetter Dough; Bigger Holes; Other Improvements
Okay, so I ordered a Cloche from Amazon; it should arrive in a couple of days. There are reports of breakage during shipping, so my fingers are crossed.
I built a simple spreadsheet to calculate my builds and hydration percentages. It makes scaling doughs much easier.
I baked at high heat yesterday (500+) and still didn’t get the golden brown top crust that I want. So heat alone is not the answer. I also applied steam via a cast-iron frying pan on the oven floor. Some people use lava rocks for additional thermal mass in the frying pan. Not a bad idea—like a sauna. It does give a good burst of steam, although once the initial blast is through (from adding pre-boiled water to the frying pan from a tea kettle), the water just simmers in the pan. I also tried blocking the exhaust port for the first half of baking. Didn’t die of CO poisoning, but neither did I get the crust I wanted. It *is* difficult to retain the steam inside the oven; you have to open the door to pour the water into the pan, and some (if not most of the steam escapes). I did not spritz the loaves, nor did I spritz the oven walls this time.
I did not allow sufficient preheating time. The stone was not hot enough to caramelize the bottom of the loaf, so it ended up underdone. Just because the oven is up to temp doesn’t mean it’s ready to bake.
I think I’ve turned the corner with handling wet dough. I’ve successfully made a 70% and a 74% hydration white sourdough. Yesterday I accomplished this without any bench flour. I mist the countertop with water before I turn the dough out onto it, and I keep a bowl of water nearby for dipping my hands and bench knife. Folding is easily accomplished this way. Some bakers claim that as many as seven foldings during primary fermentation allow sufficient strength that the dough can proof on a peel without spreading too much. Perhaps. I am definitely getting larger holes and a more open crumb with the wetter doughs. That’s a big step forward in quality.
Some folks swear by rice flour for dusting bowls, benches, and bannetons. I got some brown rice flour at the co-op and it seems to work well, though the bloggers specified white rice flour. Others use semolina, or wheat bran. I don’t like having crunchy stuff on the outside of my finished breads, so I provisionally favor the rice flour.
I built a simple spreadsheet to calculate my builds and hydration percentages. It makes scaling doughs much easier.
I baked at high heat yesterday (500+) and still didn’t get the golden brown top crust that I want. So heat alone is not the answer. I also applied steam via a cast-iron frying pan on the oven floor. Some people use lava rocks for additional thermal mass in the frying pan. Not a bad idea—like a sauna. It does give a good burst of steam, although once the initial blast is through (from adding pre-boiled water to the frying pan from a tea kettle), the water just simmers in the pan. I also tried blocking the exhaust port for the first half of baking. Didn’t die of CO poisoning, but neither did I get the crust I wanted. It *is* difficult to retain the steam inside the oven; you have to open the door to pour the water into the pan, and some (if not most of the steam escapes). I did not spritz the loaves, nor did I spritz the oven walls this time.
I did not allow sufficient preheating time. The stone was not hot enough to caramelize the bottom of the loaf, so it ended up underdone. Just because the oven is up to temp doesn’t mean it’s ready to bake.
I think I’ve turned the corner with handling wet dough. I’ve successfully made a 70% and a 74% hydration white sourdough. Yesterday I accomplished this without any bench flour. I mist the countertop with water before I turn the dough out onto it, and I keep a bowl of water nearby for dipping my hands and bench knife. Folding is easily accomplished this way. Some bakers claim that as many as seven foldings during primary fermentation allow sufficient strength that the dough can proof on a peel without spreading too much. Perhaps. I am definitely getting larger holes and a more open crumb with the wetter doughs. That’s a big step forward in quality.
Some folks swear by rice flour for dusting bowls, benches, and bannetons. I got some brown rice flour at the co-op and it seems to work well, though the bloggers specified white rice flour. Others use semolina, or wheat bran. I don’t like having crunchy stuff on the outside of my finished breads, so I provisionally favor the rice flour.
Getting Back To Bread
I’ve recently begun baking bread again. I’ve forgotten a lot of what I’d learned with my hiatus of about one year. I thought I’d made some records, but I can’t find much in my files. This document will serve as a record of trials, errors, and grand successes. If anyone decides to read it, I’ll appreciate your tips and try to answer your questions.
I’ve traditionally kept my barm/mother starter at 100% hydration in the blue plastic pitcher. Today I’m trying a firm starter to run a side-by-side with the spongy barm. I’ll build identical doughs from the two pieces and see what differences are detectable in the final result. Although it now occurs to me that I added salt and sugar to the firm piece I made this morning, so it won’t really be good as a starter for the long term. Why don’t we want salt in the mother? What does the salt do, exactly?
The hydration calculations always cause me consternation when I’m building from anything other than a 100% (50-50) starter. I have a hard time figuring out the total flour weight, and only that can tell me how much water to add to achieve a given hydration percentage. I get mad at myself for not being able to do the algebra in my head (or on paper, for that matter). So I’ve resolved this morning to build a little Excel sheet that will run the calcs for me. It’s also interesting to note that when I think about the proportions of ingredients in terms of “natural frequencies” (ie. Out of 167 grams of dough, 100 is flour and 67 is water) ala Gerd Gigerenzer, it’s much easier to understand than when I try to construct an algebraic phrase.
I’ve had trouble getting an attractive exterior crust on my finished loaves. As was the case last year, I get a narrow band between the bottom of the boule, where it rests on the stone, and the upper curvature that is perfectly done—beautiful blistering, browning, and a caramelized sheen. I hypothesized that what lacked on the top curvature was the intense radiant heat from the nearby stone. I added a top stone on the rack above to correct for this, but I still got an unappealing whitish, pasty finished crust. I faintly remembered the baker from the Bread Store telling me last year that my problem was not enough steam. More steam! So next I tried using the evap tray on the oven floor with a dose of boiling water at the start of baking, plus misting the oven walls (I tried misting the stone, and it cracked!), and directly misting the proofed, slashed loaf just before putting on the hearth. This was a substantial improvement, but I still didn’t get caramelization. My new hypothesis is that the heat was too low to achieve caramelization, thus no sheen.
Several things to try: preparing the loaf as above, and additionally removing it after two minutes to remist the loaf directly, then reinserting it in the oven. I’m also curious to see if the caramelization could be achieved at the end of baking, rather than at the beginning. This is suggested to me by several pieces of evidence: first, the cook’s illustrated method for roasting beef is longer time with lower temperature, then a final kick at the end to high temperature to caramelize the crust; second, if I hit the loaf with high heat right off, isn’t it going to crust over and prevent much further oven spring?; more heat, more quickly will kill the yeast earlier in the baking process; and one other reason that I forget. Aha! Now I remember. Reinhart states that results from breads baked in La Cloche are outstanding. His method with La Cloche calls for proofing the bread on the bottom plate of the unit, spritzing the loaf and the interior of the unit, then placing the whole assembly, at room temp, into a preheated oven. That means that the oven heat reaches the bread slowly as the bake proceeds and that the caramelization occurs later in the bake.
I want a Cloche! Where’s my Cloche??
I’ve traditionally kept my barm/mother starter at 100% hydration in the blue plastic pitcher. Today I’m trying a firm starter to run a side-by-side with the spongy barm. I’ll build identical doughs from the two pieces and see what differences are detectable in the final result. Although it now occurs to me that I added salt and sugar to the firm piece I made this morning, so it won’t really be good as a starter for the long term. Why don’t we want salt in the mother? What does the salt do, exactly?
The hydration calculations always cause me consternation when I’m building from anything other than a 100% (50-50) starter. I have a hard time figuring out the total flour weight, and only that can tell me how much water to add to achieve a given hydration percentage. I get mad at myself for not being able to do the algebra in my head (or on paper, for that matter). So I’ve resolved this morning to build a little Excel sheet that will run the calcs for me. It’s also interesting to note that when I think about the proportions of ingredients in terms of “natural frequencies” (ie. Out of 167 grams of dough, 100 is flour and 67 is water) ala Gerd Gigerenzer, it’s much easier to understand than when I try to construct an algebraic phrase.
I’ve had trouble getting an attractive exterior crust on my finished loaves. As was the case last year, I get a narrow band between the bottom of the boule, where it rests on the stone, and the upper curvature that is perfectly done—beautiful blistering, browning, and a caramelized sheen. I hypothesized that what lacked on the top curvature was the intense radiant heat from the nearby stone. I added a top stone on the rack above to correct for this, but I still got an unappealing whitish, pasty finished crust. I faintly remembered the baker from the Bread Store telling me last year that my problem was not enough steam. More steam! So next I tried using the evap tray on the oven floor with a dose of boiling water at the start of baking, plus misting the oven walls (I tried misting the stone, and it cracked!), and directly misting the proofed, slashed loaf just before putting on the hearth. This was a substantial improvement, but I still didn’t get caramelization. My new hypothesis is that the heat was too low to achieve caramelization, thus no sheen.
Several things to try: preparing the loaf as above, and additionally removing it after two minutes to remist the loaf directly, then reinserting it in the oven. I’m also curious to see if the caramelization could be achieved at the end of baking, rather than at the beginning. This is suggested to me by several pieces of evidence: first, the cook’s illustrated method for roasting beef is longer time with lower temperature, then a final kick at the end to high temperature to caramelize the crust; second, if I hit the loaf with high heat right off, isn’t it going to crust over and prevent much further oven spring?; more heat, more quickly will kill the yeast earlier in the baking process; and one other reason that I forget. Aha! Now I remember. Reinhart states that results from breads baked in La Cloche are outstanding. His method with La Cloche calls for proofing the bread on the bottom plate of the unit, spritzing the loaf and the interior of the unit, then placing the whole assembly, at room temp, into a preheated oven. That means that the oven heat reaches the bread slowly as the bake proceeds and that the caramelization occurs later in the bake.
I want a Cloche! Where’s my Cloche??
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