Tag: bread

  • Start a new sourdough starter with me

    Start a new sourdough starter with me

    There’s something special about new beginnings. A clean jar, a fresh bag of flour, the quiet anticipation of what’s to come.

    A sourdough – flour and water, mixed together and left to rest. At first, nothing much happens. Then, after a couple of days, tiny bubbles appear, a sign that wild yeasts and bacteria are waking up. The smell shifts – sweet and slightly tangy, reminiscent of yoghurt and apple cider vinegar.

    I’ve made many starters over the years. Some I’ve carried with me across kitchens, feeding them daily. Others I’ve left too long in the back of the fridge, until they turned greyish, then still. But now, in the quiet of winter, I feel like starting again.

    I’m doing as I always have – a 100% hydration starter, equal parts flour and water. It’s familiar, reliable, and the foundation of so many loaves I’ve loved. But I’ve been reading about stiff starters – not unlike a sourdough biga – and I’m curious. Perhaps next time! 

    For now, it’s just organic wheat flour, full of natural yeasts, and lukewarm water. 

    If you’ve never made a sourdough starter before, now is as good a time as any. The process is slow, but that’s part of the charm. Stir, wait, feed, repeat.

    Are you starting one too?

    There are as many ways to start a starter as there are bakers – really, you could talk to two hundred people and get two hundred different processes. I like to keep things simple, because it shouldn’t have to be complicated.

    I’ve written down my method, the one I follow loosely. Twenty-two hours instead of twenty-four? That IS okay. The “recipe” is in grams, though I’m mostly partial to my Swedish decilitermått [measuring cups that fit 1dl = 100ml]. And while I write 50g/50g on paper, in practice it’s usually a little over ½ dl water (about 60g) and 1dl flour (scooped and scraped, around 60–65g) – especially once the starter is established and I’m discarding or baking, and feeding daily.

    DAY ONE

    In a clean jar, mix 50g of lukewarm water (30°C and filtered if needed) and 50g ORGANIC plain flour. Stir well, cover with a lid, and place somewhere warm-ish – 22-24°C. You might want to write the time on your starter jar for future reference.

    Notes: When mixing water and flour, I ALWAYS start with the water to avoid pockets of flour at the bottom of my mixing container/bowl.

    DAY TWO

    Timeline: 24 hours after you first mixed the starter.

    Add 50g lukewarm water and 50g of flour. Mix well, cover with a lid, and leave to rest. The starter now weighs 200g.

    Our feeding ratio for day 2 is 2:1:1 (starter:flour:water) – the first couple of days is possibly the only time I would have more starter than water/flour.

    Notes: No discard on the second day!

    DAY THREE

    Timeline: 24 hours after the last feed. Keep in mind that depending on whether you started your starter in the morning or evening, your next feed will be 12 hours after this step.

    You might have started seeing some activity in your starter – totally normal for it to smell slightly cheesy at this stage. This comes from lactic acid bacteria, which are also found in yogurt and cheese.

    Stir your starter, then place onto scales and tare. Discard starter so that you get -125g on the scales – we’re saving 75g starter. Now, add 50g lukewarm water and 50g of flour. Mix well, cover with a lid, and leave to rest. The starter now weighs 175g.

    Our feeding ratio for day 3 is 3:2:2. Depending on whether you starter you starter in the morning or in the evening, you’re going to have to next feed it 12 hours after this step.

    Notes: I like to stir my sourdough starter before discarding and feeding. This ensures the wild yeasts and bacteria are evenly distributed, promoting consistent fermentation.

    DAY FOUR & FIVE

    Timeline: We’re going to do two feeds today – one 12 hours after the last feed and another one 12 hours later.
    I, of course, forgot to feed my starter after 12 hours last night, so it ended up being closer to 20. I couldn’t help myself and added some rye to the mix today. To keep things consistent, I usually mix 350g organic flour with 150g coarse rye flour, which I’ll use for feeding my starter from now on.

    On Day 4, you’ll follow the instructions for both the first and second feed. After that – Day 5 and so on – you’ll only perform the second feed but TWICE a day – discarding 100g of starter and feeding as follows.

    First feed:

    Stir your starter, then place onto scales and tare. Discard starter so that you get -150g on the scales – we’re saving 25g starter. Now, add 50g lukewarm water and 50g of rye flour mix (read note above). Mix well, cover with a lid, and leave to rest. The starter now weighs 125g.

    Second feed:

    Stir your starter, then place onto scales and tare. Discard starter so that you get -100g on the scales – we’re saving 25g starter. Now, add 50g lukewarm water and 50g of rye flour. Mix well, cover with a lid, and leave to rest. The starter weighs again 125g.

    Our feeding ratio for day 4 & 5 is 1:2:2.

     

    DAY SIX & more

    Is your starter ready to bake with?

    Look for consistent fermentation patterns: it should reliably double in size within 4–6 hours of feeding and have a pleasantly tangy smell. If not, keep repeating the process from Day 5 : discard 100g, feed with 50g lukewarm water and 50g flour mix, twice a day, until it gains strength

    If your starter is ready, you can now bake with it – simply mix a levain as written in your bread recipe. Keep in mind that a starter strengthens over time; it typically takes around one month to become fully developed.
    Now is also the time to transition to a maintenance feeding schedule: save 6g of starter and feed using 60g lukewarm water and 60g flour mix. 

     

    ON FEEDING RATIOS

    Feeding ratios are written as starter:flour:water. For example, 1:2:2 means 1 part starter, 2 parts flour, and 2 parts water, all measured by weight. Keeping a consistent ratio helps maintain a healthy, active starter.

    Adjusting the ratio changes how your starter ferments. Higher ratios (e.g. 1:5:5) provide more food, slowing fermentation and extending the time before it peaks. Lower ratios (e.g. 1:1:1) speed things up, making the starter ready sooner. The right ratio depends on your room temperature, how quickly you need your starter, and your baking schedule.

    Common feeding ratios:

    – 1:1:1  A quick feed. Good if you plan to bake within a few hours, as the starter becomes active in 4-5 hours at room temperature.

    – 1:2:2 or 1:3:3  A longer fermentation, ready in 8-12 hours.

    – 1:5:5 or 1:6:6  A slow, steady feed, great for strengthening your starter. I love using this for overnight feeds or even maintenance (10g starter:50–60g both water and flour), so that my starter is ready to bake with first thing in the morning. It’s also a great way to increase the total weight of your starter, especially if your recipe calls for 200–300g of starter or levain.

    – 1:10:10 The ultimate maintenance feed!

    More than a strict and unmovable rule to follow, adjusting the feeding ratio is a way to make sourdough work for you – fitting baking into your timeline rather than the other way around.

  • Simple focaccia

    Simple focaccia

    The Easter weekend arrived like a much-needed balm for our souls. A few days off with no plans; just the three of us enjoying sunny skies, walks through the snow, and, of course, good food.

    Our holiday began on skärtorsdag [Holy Thursday] with a dinner that I had had in mind for days. Nutty coppa, served alongside a creamy burrata, roasted Marcona almonds, and blanched white asparagus. The combination was wonderful, with the savory notes of the coppa balancing out the mild sweetness of the almonds and the delicate flavor of the asparagus. I couldn’t help but think something pickled would have made it even better – perhaps some tangy cornichons, capers, or pickled baby onions.

    On the side, a focaccia, which had no other choice than to be quick-to-make, as it was very much not planned.

    As with most thing bread, I turned to baker-extraordinaire Dan Lepard, of which I’ve already shared a fantastic focaccia recipe. And while it is everything I want and more, it unfortunately takes many hours to prepare. So I looked through my notebooks and found one of his recipes for a simple focaccia that happened to be gloriously pillowy, and the perfect complement to our dinner.

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    Quick and simple focaccia

    The recipe that is on its way to becoming my go-to!
    A little more hydration and yeast makes for a quick and simple focaccia- 2 hours-ish from the cupboard to the table.
    And by adding a bit of old dough or some sourdough discard, the flavour is just as wonderful!

    Notes

    – My favourite flour for focaccia comes from a Swedish mill. It is a high-protein organic flour made with a spring-wheat sort, called Quarna. A must try if you ever find your way to Sweden. You can order their flours and grains here.
    – I like to use a bit of old dough, or even some sourdough discard, when making bread that only relies on yeast as leavening agent. I find that it adds complexity to the bread, creating a unique flavor profile that is not possible with just yeast. The longer the old dough or sourdough discard has been fermenting, the more complex the flavour will be. I also think that it helps to improve the texture of the dough, making it more elastic. And of course, it is a wonderful way to use your discard and reduce waste in your kitchen.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time30 minutes
    Cook Time30 minutes
    Total Time2 hours 30 minutes

    Ingredients

    • 500 g Italian 00 or strong white flour read note above
    • 400 mL warm water
    • 21 g fresh yeast or 7 g instant yeast
    • 2 tsp sea salt
    • 125 g old bread dough/starter discard optional, read note above
    • olive oil
    • flaky sea salt to sprinkle

    Instructions

    • In a large bowl, stir all the ingredients to a very soft dough. I like to add a bit of old bread dough from the restaurant for added sourness, but you could leave it out or use a sourdough starter/discard.
    • Give the dough a vigorous beating with your hand for 30 seconds. Cover and leave for 30 minutes.
    • Drizzle a few tablespoons of olive oil over the top of the dough and on top of your workbench, and rub liberally.Flip the dough on to it, using a scraper to gently pull the dough away from the bowl. Pull the dough into a 30cm or so rectangle, fold in by thirds and then a second time. Return to the bowl for 30 minutes.
    • Line a baking tray with nonstick paper and rub a little olive oil over it.
    • Heat the oven to 225°C/fan 200°C.
    • Place the dough at the centre of the prepared tray, and repeat the stretch and fold of the dough. With the tips of your fingers pointing straight down, dimple the dough about a dozen times, then leave for 30 minutes.
    • Stretch out the dough again to cover the tray. Sprinkle flaky sea salt over the top. reduce the oven temperature to 200°C/fan 180°C and bake for 25-35 minutes, until golden.
    • Allow to cool on a wire-rack.
  • Fullkornsskorpor

    Fullkornsskorpor

    [Wholewheat rusks, a Swedish twice-baked bread]

    Skorpor are a traditional twice-baked bread from Sweden. And although I haven’t had time to do much research, I can only imagine that, like many other rusks, they originated from the need to either use old loaves or to conserve bread over an extended period of time.

    Often made with white flour and cardamom, you can now find many different kinds of skorpor on the shelves at the supermarket. I’ve even seen people make them out of leftover kanelbullar; which is something I might try but we rarely have uneaten bullar and when we do, they almost always end up as a French toast.

    Here in Sweden, skorpor are eaten as a mellanmål [afternoon tea], with butter and cheese, perhaps a spoonful of orange marmalade. Sometimes even dipped in warm rosehip soup.

    I must admit I’m partial to butter and marmalade. And the slight nuttiness of wholewheat flour. Perhaps it was the breakfasts made of Krisprolls and thé au lait [milk tea] that I fondly remember from my childhood.
    And yet, it took me almost thirty years to make skorpor in my kitchen. I think I started a couple of years ago. It was the end of blood orange season.
    That day, I took out the old Swedish baking books I had collected and went through every skorpa recipe I could find. I made blood orange marmalade too.

    I wrote weights down and calculated bakers’ percentages. I compared, and tasted, and made notes. And from them came the recipe that now sits in my notebook, the one I’m sharing with you today.
    I didn’t really consider doing so. But then, the other morning, a week or so ago, as I kneaded butter into the dough of my monthly batch, I thought that perhaps you’d like to make your own too.

    Notes

    – If graham flour isn’t available where you live, you can use 300 g wholewheat flour and 60 g wheatgerm.

    – All the recipes I’ve found use around 60 g of fresh yeast for each kilogram of flour; and while it may seem like a lot, it does reduce proofing times tremendously.
    You could get away with using half the yeast and allowing a longer proof. I have however decided to stay true to the recipes I’ve used to develop this formula and the amount of yeast did not cause any noticeable shortcomings.

    – I think it is fundamental to use a fork to make deep indents in each bread around its entire perimeter before breaking it in half; and I wouldn’t recommend slicing with a knife, no matter how much faster it would be.
    It is precisely the rugged surface created by the fork that makes for an interesting texture and flavour, due to the uneven browning.

    Fullkornsskorpor

    Makes around 80 pieces.

    485 g milk
    420 g plain flour
    360 g graham flour
    40 g fresh yeast
    14 g salt
    100 g butter, thinly sliced

    Place all the ingredients aside from the butter in the bowl of a stand-mixer fitted with the dough hook.

    Mix on medium speed for 10 minutes, or until medium gluten development. Add the butter, one slice at a time and knead for a further 10 minutes or so until the dough is smooth and elastic.

    Cover with clingfilm, and leave to proof at room temperature until doubled in size, around 30 minutes.

    Line 2 baking trays with baking paper.

    Place the dough onto a lightly floured work bench. Press to get rid of the gases, and divide in 40 pieces, at approximately 35g each.
    Ball each piece and place onto the prepared baking trays. Flatten each ball to 5-6cm in diameter using the palm of your hand.

    Cover with clingfilm and proof until doubled in size, around 45-60 minutes.
    While the bread if proofing, preheat the oven to 250°C/fan 230°C.

    When ready to bake, reduce the oven temperature to 225°C/fan 200°C. And bake, one tray at a time for 14 minutes, rotating halfway through baking if needed.

    Allow to cool down slightly, and using a fork, make deep indents in each bread around its entire perimeter; then break in half.

    Arrange the halves on the baking trays, and return to the oven for 8 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 120°C/fan 100°C and bake for a further hour, or until fully dried.

    The skorpor will keep beautifully in an airtight jar for well over a month.


  • Kavring, the Swedish summer classic

    Kavring, the Swedish summer classic

    As written on June 20th, 2017:

    I didn’t mean to be gone for so long; from the winter solstice to the summer one. Yes, now a few days shy of midsommar, half a year has gone.

    Can we pretend that winter is barely over?

    In many ways it is. At least for us in the North. Snow has creeped into our sky way into June, and it’s only been a couple of weeks since the birches’ foliage flourished into the lush mantle that now covers every forest. We celebrated the first summer rain a few days ago; and sometimes, I can’t help but wonder how something so mundane can cause such thrill, if it wasn’t for the fact that we almost skipped spring this year, or that our winters are most silent, with the world around us resonating in a felted echo.

    I come to you today with a Swedish summer classic: kavring. A soft, slightly sweet bread, traditionally eaten over Midsommar with sill [pickled herring] or gravlax, and even for Easter and Christmas. Yes, in Sweden, the holiday table stays rather unchanged throughout the annual festivities, with only slight variations, like a stronger focus on meat (köttbullar [meat balls], game, julskinka [Christmas ham]) for Christmas, while Easter and Midsummer are all about herring.

    I would love to delve into kavring‘s origin and history, but then I would probably have to wait for a year or two before I’d be able to share this recipe with you. One that I’ve worked on for the past few weeks as we changed the menu at the café.

    A good starting point, however, is the etymology, which I find especially helpful when it comes to the Nordic countries, where different languages and cultures have inextricably intertwined over the past centuries.

    From Svensk etymologisk ordbok, Elof Hellquist (1922)

    In E. Hellquist’s 1922 Swedish etymology dictionary (Svensk etymologisk ordbok), the origin of the word kavring is a complex one, dating from the early 1500 with the Russian kovríga that became the Danish kavring, which the Swedes embraced with a minor orthographical variation until recent times: kafring.

    “Kavring (in the southern Sweden folk dialect), a sort of twice-baked sourdough rye bread or an oven-dried loaf. Kafring, in early modern Swedish, dated from 1544, possibly originating from Norwegian, while the word kavring was first encountered in the early 16th century in the Danish language from the Russian kovríga, a round bread, literally ring or circle in old Russian.”
    ー Svensk etymologisk ordbok, Elof Hellquist (1922)

    The etymology tells us more than the origin of the word itself, it tells us the story of a bread that travelled through the Nordic countries. Originally a crisp rye bread (which it still is in Norway), kavring then morphed into the soft, sweet and fragrant loaf in the late 1800, mostly in southern Sweden according to Å. Campbell’s The Swedish bread (Det svenska brödet, 1950), a wonderful read that gives an insight into the cultural contrasts in pre-industrial Sweden through bread traditions in its regions.

    While I’m not surprised to see two spellings that eventually became one, I find it interesting to note that the Norwegian-originated spelling kafring was used in Swedish as late as 1915, like in this issue of the Idun newspaper where “Folket stegade till drängstugan för att öppna sina byttor och korgar och förtära sin enkla måltid, surmjölk, kafring och smör.” The people hurried towards the workman’s hut to open their boxes and baskets before consuming their simple meal made of sour milk, kavring and butter.

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    Kavring

    My recipe makes two loaves of this delicious Swedish classic bread, because trust me, you'll want to have one on your counter and one well-wrapped in clingfilm in your fridge where it will keep for up to two weeks.
    A few ways to eat kavring in the morning: butter and thinly sliced cheese (comté is a favourite). Butter and a seven-minute boiled egg. Butter and orange marmalade. Butter. You get it!

    Notes

    While extremely easy to make, this recipe necessitates a few ingredients specific to the Nordic countries, namely: rågsikt [sifted rye], brödsirap [bread syrup], and filmjölk [sour milk].
    However, I can only think that these can be substituted as follows.
    – Rågsikt is a blend of plain flour and sifted rye flour, usually 60% plain flour and 40% rye flour.
    – Brödsirap is a mix of 80% molasses and 20% malt syrup, with a little salt thrown in. The closest I could think of is to mix 40% golden syrup, 40% black treacle and 20% malt extract.
    Back when I lived in London, my favourite malt extract came from Hollands and Barretts, a small jar with a mustard yellow label.
    – Filmjölk, a cultured milk that is usually eaten for breakfast or mellanmål [literally “a medium meal”, snacks], can be replaced by cultured buttermilk, kefir, or even a runny yoghurt, unsweetened of course.
    I’ll write both recipes down, in case you live as close to the polar circle as we do. If you try the “Anglicised” recipe, please let me know how it turns out <3
    For the spices I decided stayed close to the classic trio of fennel, caraway and anis, only leaving the anis out, although I’ve seen recipes that call for cloves, ground ginger and even bitter orange zest, so it would be interesting to experiment with different flavours. I’m thinking an orange and lingon limpa [loaf] would be wonderful on our Christmas table.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time20 minutes
    Cook Time1 hour 30 minutes
    Makes 2 loaves.

    Ingredients

    Kavring with Swedish ingredients

    • 25 g fennel seeds
    • 25 g caraway seeds
    • 500 g rågsikt
    • 360 g plain flour
    • 20 g bicarbonate soda
    • 20 g salt
    • 275 g brödsirap
    • 1200 g filmjölk
    • coarse rye flour to sprinkle

    Kavring with English ingredients

    • 25 g fennel seeds
    • 25 g caraway seeds
    • 660 g plain flour
    • 200 g rye flour
    • 20 g bicarbonate soda
    • 24 g salt
    • 110 g treacle
    • 110 g golden syrup
    • 55 g malt extract
    • 1200 g filmjölk subsitute read more above
    • coarse rye flour to sprinkle

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 155°C. Butter and line two 1.5L loaf tins with baking paper.
    • Crush the seeds in a mortar and set aside.
    • In a large bowl, combine the flours, crushed seeds, bicarbonate and salt. Whisk together to combine. In another bowl, mix the syrup(s) and filmjölk; pour over the flour mixture and mix using a silicon spatula until barely smooth.
    • Divide between the two prepared tins and generously sprinkle with coarse rye flour.
    • Bake in the preheated oven for 1h30, at which point the core temperature of the loaf should read 96-98°C.
    • Allow to cool down in its tin for 10 minutes, then unmould onto a rack and leave to cool down completely to room temperature. Wrap in clingfilm.
    • The loaves will keep in the fridge for up to two weeks, or in the freezer for a month or two, although the latter tends to make the crumb slightly drier.
  • Chasing rugbrød, part one

    Chasing rugbrød, part one

    We waked, in the two cabins in those happy days, just before the sun came up, when the birds were in their loudest clamor of morning joy. Wrapped each in a blanket, George and I stepped out from our doors, each trying to call the other, and often meeting on the grass between. We ran to the river and plunged in,—oh, how cold it was!—laughed and screamed like boys, rubbed ourselves aglow, and ran home to build Polly’s fire beneath the open chimney which stood beside my cabin. The bread had risen in the night. The water soon boiled above the logs. The children came laughing out upon the grass, barefoot, and fearless of the dew. Then Polly appeared with her gridiron and bear-steak, or with her griddle and eggs, and, in fewer minutes than this page has cost me, the breakfast was ready for Alice to carry, dish by dish, to the white-clad table on the piazza. Not Raphael and Adam more enjoyed their watermelons, fox-grapes, and late blueberries! And, in the long croon of the breakfast, we revenged ourselves for the haste with which it had been prepared.

    Edward Everett Hale (1869), The Brick Moon, and Other Stories

    If I came to you today with the perfect recipe for rugbrød – which I’ve come to know as danskt rågbröd, literally, Danish rye bread – then I think this story would have no point in being told.

    It might have started on our way to Lövnas. We stopped in the closest town, an hour or so away from the cabin, at the small supermarket facing the gas station. And although I was still dozy from our trip, I remember – with an unusual crispness – picking a small bag, much heavier than it looked, dark and packed with seeds, with five or six thin slices of danskt rågbröd.
    I didn’t think much about it then. Not that it would send me into a relentless search for my favourite homemade rugbrød or that it would be the start of many months (and possibly years, although it’s something I can’t say just yet) of breakfast tartines.

    I also remember Kalle putting two yoghurt cartons in our basket. Perhaps, because they read körsbär [cherry], but more plausibly, because they were called fjäll [mountain], a word I’d heard – and not quite understood – when Kalle spoke it. “Vi ska åka till fjällen”.

    The next morning, we had our first breakfast at the cabin. And while everyone else could only think about what they’d top their bread with, I was studying my deep-dark slice of rågbröd.

    Yes, nobody talks about the bread. The foundation of a tartine, really.
    That one had the colour of wood bark and the smell of roasted pumpkin and sunflower seeds. Whole rye berries barely held together with a sour rye dough. And linseeds dotted throughout.
    The very same that created the obsession I have for rågbröd.

    Danish rye bread #1
    Adapted from Baktips.

    As I’ve told you earlier, I’m not coming today with a perfect recipe. More of the first part of a long study. Eventually, I’d love to be able to make a danskt rågbröd that’s packed with more rye berries than dough, feels moist yet crunchy and has lovely dark-brown undertone.

    Today’s experiment was delicious. In fact, I could only take a picture a few days after I’d baked it and right before it had been devoured.
    I’m not quite happy with how light the crumb came but I made the very stupid decision to bake mine at 150°C (a wrong educated guess as I assumed the baking would be the same as for a filmjölksbröd – my favourite! but I digress) – so I think I’ll definitely have to try the same recipe again with a higher temperature and perhaps a longer baking time as since then, I’ve read tales of breads baked for as long as twelve hours.

    PS. Maman si tu lis cet article, je pense que tu aimerais ce pain!

    Danish rye bread #1

    Makes one loaf.

    For the soaker

    215 g cracked rye
    100 g sunflower seeds
    20 g linseeds
    200 g water
    50 g sourdough

    For the dough

    All of the soaker (above)
    100 g sourdough
    170 g water
    10 g fresh yeast
    130 g pumpkin seeds
    10 g salt
    160 g plain flour
    40 g rågsikt or rye flour

    On the night before the day you’re planning to bake your bread, combine all the ingredients for the soaker; cover losely with clingfilm and allow to rest overnight at room temperature.

    The next morning, butter and line a 1.5L loaf tin with baking paper.

    Add the remaining ingredients (making sure to dissolve the yeast into the water, as the dough doesn’t get kneaded) to the soaker and mix well until smooth. Depending on your flour you might need to add a little more water (or less). The dough will have the consistence of a runny batter, almost like a cake batter with oats inside.

    Scrape the dough into the prepared loaf tin and proof at room temperature for 2 hours.

    About an hour into the proofing, preheat your oven to 250°C/ fan 225°C (and now, it will differ from what I did – bake at fan 150°C, which was silly and really, don’t do it! – I’m leaving the original baking instructions even though I haven’t tried for myself).

    After 2 hours, brush the top of your loaf with water and bake at 250°C/ fan 225°C for 10 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 200°C/ fan 180°C and bake for a further 50 minutes or until dark-brown and a probe inserted into the centre of the loaf reads 98°C.

    As soon as the loaf comes out from the oven, place inside a plastic bag or wrap in clingfilm and let it cool down for at least 6 hours before cutting the loaf into thin slices. My topping of choice is butter, flaky sea salt and radis!

    The recipe.

    As this is a straightforward dough and all I want to highlight for personal reference is the ratio of ingredients, the percentages shown below are not bakers’ percentages, but composition percentages.
    I had to add an extra 70g of water (in reference to the recipe linked above) as the finished dough seemed on the drier side. And I also left out the raisins (might want them next time) and walnuts – as I didn’t have any at home then.

    Danish rye bread #1, overall formula

    WeightIngredientPercentages
    215gcracked rye18%
    100gsunflower seeds8%
    20glinseeds2%
    370gwater31%
    150gsourdough12%
    10gfresh yeast1%
    130gpumpkin seeds11%
    10gsalt1%
    160gplain flour13%
    40grågsikt3%
    Total
    1205g

    Just a few numbers for keepsake:
    – 22.8% flour (16.6% unfermented + 6.2% fermented flour)
    – 18% cracked rye
    – 12% sourdough
    – 19% seeds (without linseeds)
    – 2% linseeds

    The ingredients.

    The recipe calls for ingredients that might be slightly hard to come across outside of Scandinavia (really, I have no idea, let me know in the comments if you’ve ever seen it), like rågsikt [sifted rye flour], which is a flour blend made of 60% wheat flour and 40% finely milled and sifted rye flour.
    I used the ICA eco rågsikt and also ICA vetemjöl in place in plain flour.

    In case you don’t have any rågsikt available near you, I suggest using 100% rye flour – something I’m planning on trying next time I make this recipe.

    The timing.

    With the addition of yeast, this recipe is almost instant (if you don’t account for the soaker).

    Day minus 3: Two or three days before you want to bake, take out your sourdough from the fridge (if that’s where you keep it, in case you feed it/bake everyday, then jump to the next step!) and feed it twice a day at 12 hour-intervals.

    Day 1 (evening): Mix the ingredients for the soaker. Let to rest at room temperature overnight.

    Day 2 (morning):
    – Add the remaining ingredients and scrape the batter into a 1.5L loaf tin.
    – Fermentation = at room temperature, for around 2 hours.
    – Brush the top of the loaf with water.
    – Bake.

    Notes.

    – I need to find the “right” baking settings for this bread as I’d like its crumb to be darker and also perhaps slightly chewier. Maybe increase the amount of rye berries, add malt extract?
    – As mentioned above, I’d like to try this recipe again using rye flour instead of rågsikt. And raisins too!

    Ressources.

    – A video, which shows the texture of the finished dough and the process of making rugbrød in Denmark. I might try the recipe next time too – if you wanna join me in #chasingrugbrød!

    – The table of Danish rye bread elements.

    – About rye (wikipedia).

  • Kusmark sourdough

    Kusmark sourdough

    I thought it would be nice to start my weekend boulangerie posts with a book quote. You know, being the weekend and all. Perhaps, you’ll want to do what I’ve doing and explore forgotten books.

    Yes, I’ve had time. To bake, to draw, to read.
    And yes, I’m extremely happy.

    On this subject, a few nights ago, we watched a documentary – in Swedish – about what used to be Frantzén/Lindeberg. It was unusually accurate and very interesting. I could relate a lot; with both Frantzén and Lindeberg, who were in two – very – different phases which caused them to separate. But really, I especially liked the part where Lindeberg – after leaving the restaurant – says (and I’m about to very badly paraphrase/translate him) that once you leave that intense bubble created by the constant need to reach perfection, you start to soak in the beauty of life that has been around you all these years without you even noticed.
    And while I don’t want to leave that bubble behind just yet, it’s certainly refreshing to be able to live without being consumed by a limitless passion that restlessly occupies every of your thoughts.

    “It was a pleasant May morning in 1775, and the air was filled with the fragrance of the freshly cut pine logs that had been poled down the river in big rafts to be cut into planks and boards at the big sawmills. The river, unusually full with the spring rains, dashed against its banks as if inviting the little girls to play a game with it. Usually Anna and Rebecca were quite ready to linger at the small coves which crept in so near to the footpath, and sail boats made of pieces of birch-bark, with alder twigs for masts and broad oak leaves for sails. They named these boats Polly and Unity, after the two fine sloops which carried lumber from Machias to Boston and returned with cargoes of provisions for the little settlement.
    But this morning the girls hurried along without a thought for such pleasant games. They were both anxious to get to the lumber yard as soon as possible, not only to fill their basket with chips, as their mother had bidden them, but to hear if there were not some news of the Polly, the return of which was anxiously awaited; for provisions were getting scarce in this remote village, and not until the Polly should come sailing into harbor could there be any sugar cakes, or even bread made of wheat flour.”
    Alice Turner Curtis (1920), A Little Maid of Old Maine

    Kusmark sourdough
    Adapted from Jeffrey Hamelman’s Bread: A Baker’s Book of Techniques and Recipes.

    You know those times when you know you’re doing something wrong, but you decide to go ahead and do it anyway. When, this was me, all over this bread. And yet, it turned out beautifully.
    A lovely chewy crumb, with a wonderful sourdough aroma – yet not too strong – and a dark crisp crust.
    I had a slice with a little butter and that Swedish flaky salt I’ve fallen in love with; the bread still slightly warm and the butter oozing on my fingers.

    The dough felt quite dry and gluten development was very fast. I guess I’ve gotten too used to my usual 75% hydration sourdough and this one being only 65%, it was surprisingly easy to work with.
    Yes, I do think it’s one of those magic breads that can absorb mistakes. Perhaps, a new go-to.

    I’ve named it Kusmark sourdough as it is apparently custom to name your bread according to the geographical location of your starter. And really, I thought it sounded great.

    The recipe.

    Makes one boule.

    The recipe is based on Jeffrey’s Vermont sourdough, which seems to be loved by many.

    75gT55 flour100%
    95gwater125%
    15gstarter20%
    for the dough
    375gbread flour90%
    50gwhole rye flour10%
    231gwater65%
    169glevain
    9.5gsalt1.9%

    The ingredients.

    Jeffrey recommends to go for a 12% protein flour for his levain breads. So I went ahead and used my Kungsörnen vetemjöl special and the Saltå Kvarn rågmjöl that I’ve also been using to feed Surdeg these past few weeks.

    The latter seems to absorb slightly more water than what rye has gotten me used to, so if you’re using the same flour, you might need to adjust the hydration slightly.

    Starter used: Surdeg (19/03/2015), 14 days old.

    The timing.

    Mixing the dough & autolyse = 1 hour-ish.
    Bulk proofing = 3 hours, with one or two folds.
    Pre-shaping, bench rest & shaping = 35 minutes.
    Fermentation = at room temperature, for around 2-3 hours or 1 hours at 20°C then retarded overnight (for up to 16 hours according to Jeffrey) at 5°C.
    Baking = 45-60 minutes, depending on the size of your loaf.

    The process.

    While I’m a bit of a perfectionist when working, I must say that I’m way more laid-back when it comes to home baking. In my mind – perhaps because I’ve spent so much time being insanely precise – I really like the nonchalance of baking at home. Yes, the oven isn’t perfect. Yes, the dough temperature might be too high or low. Yes, you will fail. But I’ve learnt to appreciate all of these. Maybe that will change, but for now, I’m pretty happy to take it for what it is: trying to make the best things possible in a home kitchen environment.

    That means, I’m not going to lie, that:
    – I didn’t measure dough temperature, even though I know they’re important. I adjusted the water temperature slightly to have a dough slightly warmer than 23°C, which I measured with my hands. There you go probe.
    – I don’t have a banneton to prove my loaves, but a bowl lined with a floured kitchen towel.
    – I didn’t score my bread using a lame – but a small serrated knife.

    Other than that, here is the process I followed.

    Make the levain.
    In a bowl, mix your active starter and water. Add the flour and mix until smooth. Cover with clingfilm and allow to ferment overnight.

    Mix the dough & autolyse.
    In a large bowl, combine the levain, water, and flours until it just forms a dough. Leave covered for an hour.

    Bulk proofing.
    Add the salt and knead the dough to medium gluten development. The dough will feel elastic and smooth but slightly loose.
    If you’re feeling like it, Jeffrey tells us the dough should now be 24.4°C.
    Cover with clingfilm and leave at room temperature to proof for around three hours.

    Folds.
    My gluten development being a bit more than medium, I only gave the dough one fold. To give a fold, simply place the dough, “nice side” down on a slightly floured surface (I didn’t need any flour here) and pat with the palm of your hand into a rectangle. Then fold like a business letter. And again in the other direction. Place back into the bowl, and keep on proofing.

    From the very beginning till the end of the process, make sure to keep the “nice side” – or seamless – of your loaf as is. While the other side will always be the one with seams.

    Shaping.
    Place “nice side” down onto a lightly floured surface. Pat down with the palm of your hand to degas the dough. Pre-shape the dough into a rough ball. Then cover it with a cloth – leaving its “nice side” down so not to put any flour on the seams and leave for around 30 minutes. In the meantime, get your banneton – real or homemade – ready. Then shape the dough into a tight ball, on a clean surface; the sticky dough will pull the outer layers creating some surface tension.
    Place the dough seam-side up into your banneton if you intend on scoring the bread. Or for a more natural look, place the seam-side down to let the natural cracks bloom in the oven.

    Fermentation.
    You can either ferment your loaf at room temperature until doubled in size and a positive finger poke test, or proof for around an hour before wrapping it in clingfilm or placing it in a sealed bag, and retard it in your fridge for up to 16 hours.

    I went for the latter. But I think my fridge was too cold as barely any fermentation happened overnight and I had to leave my bread to proof outside for another two hours in the morning before it was ready to go in (slightly underproofed, but I had reached my patience limit).

    Scoring.
    Unmould your loaf onto a piece of baking paper, big enough for you to lift the bread to the cast-iron pot. And score into the pattern of your choice.
    Scoring weakens a portion of the outer dough layer, creating the perfect escape for steam during baking and the cuts will expand in the oven, making sure your bread gets to its full volume.

    Baking.
    Preheat the oven to 250°C for at least an hour before your bread is ready. You can preheat a cast iron pot as well, although I’ve baked bread in a cold pot before with great results. It’s really up to you, although I do think a hot pot will generate a better oven spring.

    I choose to bake in a cast-iron at home for two reasons:
    – it removes the need for a stone: cast iron will accumulate heat, just like a stone would. A hot cast-iron pot will prevent your bread from sticking and has amazing heat retention properties, which means it’ll keep your oven hotter and provide a real nice hot base for your bread to bake on.
    – the bread steams itself: by placing a lid on top of your pot, you allow the steam that comes out from the bread to stay in a closed environment, hence acting as a steamer.
    Yes, steam is essential for a good crusty bread that has a lovely oven spring. As the steam moisten the surface of the bread – retarding the gelatinisation of starch, a process which starts at around 60°C – it will increase the volume of your loaf and turn the crust into a shiny surface.

    I baked mine at 250°C for 20 minutes with the lid on and then 30 minutes without. A quick way to check if your bread is done is to probe its centre. It should read 96-98°C for a sourdough bread.

    Notes.

    Next time, I’ll increase the hydration to 70%, to – perhaps – get a more open crumb.
    I also need to check my fridge temperature to make sure it’s not too cold.

    Perhaps, I’ll use a lower protein flour, around 10.5-11% proteins.

    Vermont sourdough ressources.

    Jeffrey Hamelman’s Bread: A Baker’s Book of Techniques and Recipes

    The fresh loaf’s posts on Vermont sourdough.

    R.F. Tester & W.R. Morrison (1990), Swelling and gelatinisation of cereal starches.

  • Mastering focaccia, step by step

    Mastering focaccia, step by step

    By now, you guys should be aware that to me, Dan Lepard is to bread-making what Pierre Hermé is to pastry. My icon and absolute role model.

    I never really used to make bread, except for the occasional pizza dough; but since I’ve discovered Dan’s take on bread making I’ve literally been unstoppable. Fresh yeast has become a staple in my fridge and I’m known to run to the grocery store as soon as my flour stock approaches 2kg.

    So far, I had only made white loafs or buns; to which I regularly added ingredients such as herb butter, cheese or mashed potatoes.
    However, I needed a focaccia for the Christmas Eve dinner my sister and I were hosting. And while I firstly intended to make my reliable pizza dough, only slightly wetter; I quickly moved on Dan’s recipe. And boy, I’m glad I did!

    This focaccia is the best flat bread I’ve ever had and it’s a delight to make. Still, the whole process can seem a little daunting because of the different steps and resting times.

    Given that I really want you to make this focaccia and bite into a crusty yet moist square of this fragrant bread, I thought it would be great if we made some together. Get your aprons ready!

    Again, the mise-en-place is fundamental and will make you save precious time. Here, we’ll make a ferment then add water, oil, flour and salt.

    For the ferment, you’ll need:
    200g water at 20°C
    150g flour tipo 00 (French type 45 works well too)
    7g fresh yeast, finely crumbled

    To which you’ll add:
    150g water at 20°C
    15ml olive oil, plus extra for folding
    375g flour tipo 00
    10g fine salt

    01.

    Mix together the ingredients for the ferment in a large bowl. Cover the bowl with a cloth and leave at warm room temperature for 2 hours, giving the mixture a good stir after the first hour.
    After the resting time, the mixture should be all bubbly and have doubled in size.

    02.

    Whisk in the water and oil. Then mix in the flour and salt with a spoon, until roughly combined.
    Cover the bowl and allow to rest for 10 minutes.

    03.

    Rub your hands, the work surface and the dough with some oil and scrape the dough onto the work surface. Work the dough by gently stretching it with your right hand, keeping it in place with your left thumb. Then fold and rotate the dough. Repeat this kneading about 10 times, but make sure to stop before it starts sticking to the work surface.
    Knead again twice at 10-minute intervals. The dough will change from lumpy to smooth and elastic.
    Cover with a cloth and leave to rest for 40 minutes.

    04.

    It’s now time to do some serious stretching and folding. This will stretch and elongate the upcoming bubbles making for big and uneven holes in the final bread.
    Stretch the dough into a rectangle then fold it into thirds first in one direction then the other. Repeat this twice with 40-minute intervals.

    05.

    Once you’ve stretched-folded three times, allow the dough to rest for 30 minutes before going on with the shaping.

    06.

    Rub a baking tray with olive oil and place the dough onto it. Lightly flatten the dough using your fingers – it’s normal if it springs back. Cover with a cloth and leave in a warm place for 20 minutes.
    Preheat the oven to 220°C. Pick the corners of the dough and stretch them out until they reach the corners of the tray. Sprinkle with a little water and some oil.
    Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat to 200°C and bake for a further 15 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.