I've mentioned my addiction to cookbooks. Tim thinks I need a self help group, but I have my obsession under control. I can stop at any time (although I never will). Besides he benefits as much as I do from each new and inspirational acquisition. However, I have something to admit... I've had a cookbook for over a dozen years that I never used. You'd think with all the purging I've done over the years with every move (which since undergrad has averaged every 2 years) that this book would have hit the donation pile long ago. It's not that I'm a hoarder, it's that I just wasn't ready to cook this way. The book is Bread Alone.
First a needless explanation. I like to categorize everything. There is not a friend on my Facebook that doesn't belong to a list that reminds me how we know each other. My scrapbook sticker collection is bagged by their theme. My beads are sorted by color, shape and size. I recall people's faces by matching them in a category with others faces that have similar features or shape to allow for easy recall (I know that one is weird). It's that sort of mind set that leads me to purchase cookbooks that are have a strong theme. I only have two bread baking books, in my mind. Even though over 60% of my cookbooks have a bread section, I will always reach for those two that are exclusively bread books first. So knowing this... what took me so long to use this book?
Well I categorize everything for a reason. It satisfies my need for instant gratification. Was that a big leap in logic, stay with me here? This wonderful resource, Bread Alone, is full of stories and old world techniques yet has not a single loaf of bread that can be assembled and baked in the same day. Not one. They all must start with a poolish, biga, or chef before they become a sourdough starter, before they rest, ferment, shaped and rise... and THEN are baked. So I just never took the time to try it. But I knew one day I would. So I saved this precious book from the purge time and time again. And I'm so glad I did.
In all honesty, the techniques aren't hard at all and require very little effort. They just require patience and a bit of forethought. In making the Rye chef all I did was this:
- Day 1 - combine 2/3 C (3 oz) stone ground Rye flour with 1/2 C filtered water (4 oz) and a pinch of yeast
- Stir, cover tightly, and let sit at room temperature for 24 hours
- Stir again if you think about it, or not. But stirring every once in a while gives the developing yeast something to munch on.
- Day 2 - add to the above, another 2/3 C stone ground Rye and 1/2 C filtered water
- Stir, cover tightly, and let sit at room temperature for 24 hours
- Stir again if you think about it, or not.
- Day 3 - Repeat Day 2
- Day 4 - Repeat Day 3
Now you have a ripe and wonderful 125% hydration (more water than flour) chef. A portion of which will become the starter which will grow to become dough which will one day be baked into bread. My starter after nurturing and harvesting eventually made 6 loaves. I could have kept it going for months or years by storing in the fridge and reducing the feedings to once a week. However, eventually you'd need to bake off some of the loaves, or share the chef with a friend or just waste it. I've read you can freeze the chef, but I figured I'd just use it up and have Rubens for a while and give a loaf or three to my father-in-law.
The fantastic thing about this method is everything. This being a rye bread it's hard to imagine more intensity in the flavor, but you can believe it. I had a half loaf of sliced rye from the bakers at our local Giant Eagle. I've never had a complaint about their bread and in the past purchased their multi-grain Tuscany bread when I just didn't feel like baking and yet wanted to take sandwiches to work for lunch. A bit before Christmas, Tim had a hankering for patty melts and my Rye chef was not yet mature so I brought home some rye, made the melts and everything was fine. The rye chef matures and I bake two loaves. I was able to compare your standard bakery rye with this more old-world rye and was totally surprised by the difference.
The flavor in the old-world rye is much deeper and with significantly more personality with a subtle tang that lingers long after. The color was more rich in my bread than in Giant Eagle's. Their bread was pale and anemic in comparison to the deep almost nutmeg color. In Giant Eagle's bread I could pick out the caraway seeds with a quick glance. In the old-world bread the seeds were camouflaged by the hearty crumb. The crusts were also diametrically opposed. I used steam to create a chewy coat while the dry heat on the Giant Eagle rye produced a more simple and shallow crust. And then there was the smell which was just as evocative as the taste.
I say this freely admitting that I am not an especially skilled baker and therefore am not slathering myself with conceited compliments. I followed the directions with excitement and enthusiasm, but didn't deviate. So there was no personal influence on my part; this is just a fantastic way to coax a lot of flavor and character out of simple ingredients. I also mean nothing against Giant Eagle's bread. When I have a need and yet little desire to bake, I am happy to have them close by.
Now I am in the process of creating a Levain which is a traditional sourdough chef. I have nurtured this for three days and stuck it in the fridge as I am not yet ready for the starter phase. But this additional time allowed to ferment in the fridge will only deepen its flavor. And when it comes to sourdough I like a LOT of flavor. I want big tangy notes and a seriously chewy crust. I want to eat this bread with nothing more than a thin slice of soft butter and be completely satisfied.
I'll post the recipe and photos soon!
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