Bread Making Q and A

My oven is unreliable at best. Will tiles help?

Maybe, but the oven thermometer may help even more. I don't remember where I learned this, but self-cleaning ovens (the kind that burn all your spills to a small pile of ash that you wipe away) tend to be inaccurate. The first week I lived in CO I tried to cook a pan of brownies and 2 1/2 hours later they were still raw in the middle. I blamed the altitude. Several months later, I dusted off my thermometer and stuck it in the oven so I had more room in my gadget drawer. I noticed right away that my oven was off by 50-125 degrees.

The tiles are great for distributing, and maintaining heat. They take forever to preheat and forever to cool. If your recipe has lots of temp adjustments (cheesecake, roast beef, pie crust), you should pull the tiles out before you preheat.

Or, just blame the altitude.

I can never get bread to rise properly.

Define properly.

Is it too slow? Try turning your oven on for about 30 seconds and then turn it off. Let your dough rise in there. Does your dough have alcohol (usually beer) in it? That can slow things down (yeast don't like it much either). Is your yeast older? Did you proof it?

Even if your dough is slow, you might want to let it go at it's own pace. Some people keep their dough on the cooler side just so it takes longer to rise and develop good flavor.

Unexplainable: While I have had numerous instances of bread failing to rise, on two seperate occasions I have made bread that failed to rise AND later heard from other people that their dough failed to rise on THAT SAME DAY. Once was when I was at 8000 foot elevation and the other was at sea level. Wierd huh? I find the dough still makes decent pizza crust.

Can I use my bread machine?

I use a dishwasher, a treadmill, and premade piecrust and you're asking me if you can use a bread machine? Can I use your bread machine?

Bread Making Part 5: The Need to Knead--Results

No it didn't really take me a week to bake a loaf of bread.

*sigh*



Truth be told, I was a bit disappointed in the visual results of my two breads. With the exception that the kneaded loaf seemed to spread more (which is likely to be due to a small variation in the liquid content) the two loaves looked unremarkably similar. Even when I cut into them.



What was different was the texture. The unkneaded dough had a denser feel. It was the kind of thing you could choke down, but you'd want ample water to swill. The kneaded loaf was spongier. It felt like it had air in it.

What really struck me as strangely bizarre?

As the afternoon wore on into the evening, we were all taking slices and snacking. I sliced both loaves and no one in my family knew there was a difference between them. I assure you, no one in my household has any qualms about eating from a new loaf when there is a half-eaten loaf sitting next to it. This is supported by the eleven open boxes of cereal in my pantry.

By the end of the evening, the kneaded bread was gone, but the unkneaded bread, though picked at, was ignored.

Very interesting.

Anyway, we can safely assume kneading is important, because all the bread books tell us so. The next time you make bread, observe your dough. How does it feel when the dough comes together? How is it different after five minutes of kneading? Ten minutes? When it windowpanes?

My favorite bread, Ciabatta, makes a sticky dough that clings around the hook and leaves a three inch 'puddle' of dough in the bottom of the bowl. After a few minutes, the dough makes a vertical blob that travels around the side of the bowl and the puddle is a bit smaller. In another five minutes the dough forms a ball around the hook and makes 'arms' that slap the bowl a few times before incorporating themselves back into the ball.

Guess how many times I made Ciabatta before noticing?

Practice makes perfect.

You've had some questions regarding breadmaking. I'm not professional, and I'm not even that experienced, but I'll try to answer them soon.

Bread Making Part 5: The Need to Knead

Today's experiment involves the importance of kneading or, in my case, hiring your favorite thug kitchen appliance to abuse your dough.

My bread today is a simple wheat bread with both store-bought yeast and sourdough starter. Why? Because (for the experiment) I need the assurance of the quick rise, but I want the flavor of the sourdough.

Especially since, as I write this, I realize I forgot the salt. I always forget the salt. I think there is some synapse in my brain that makes it physically, mentally, and biochemically impossible for me to remember the salt.

It might explain my blood pressure of 106/60.

First I proofed the yeast. This is entirely optional but if you have had rising problems I recommend it. Plus it makes for a good experiment.

In 2 cups of (room temp to lukewarm) water I added 2 T of sugar and 1 T of active dry yeast. I swirled it to dissolve the sugar and I swirled again about 30 seconds later to dissolve the softened yeast.



After 5 minutes, there is a foam of bubbles on the top. If I let it sit a little longer there would be a froth of bubbles. Bubbles are the best way to know your yeast is alive. I've looked into teeny tiny heartrate monitors but apparently yeast doesn't have a heart.

Don't tell it that though.

Two balls of dough:


Each consists of:

1 cup bread flour
2 cups white whole wheat flour
3/4 cup sourdough starter
1 cup of your yeast mixture
1 t salt (if your synapses are fully firing)

The first batch I kneaded in my mixer just until the ingredients combined (about 3 minutes on level 3 speed)

The second ball I kneaded for 12 minutes on level 3. That's how long it took for the dough to windowpane.

Huh?

When I try to stretch batch #1 it pulls apart like playdough.



But when I stretch out batch #2:



It makes a windowpane. If I had used only bread flour (or white flour) I could stretch the pane so thin I could see through it. This bread has whole wheat in it. The bran tends to cut into the windowpane so it tears easily but it's still there.

What makes the windowpane? Anyone?

Correct! Gluten. Gluten, after being bullied around for 12 minutes, decides to unite with its friends and fights back. It makes dough springy and elastic and all those little windowpanes inflate like balloons when the yeast continues its little bubble making party.

Later, we'll compare the two different loaves.

Bread Making Part 4: Where's The Gluten?

Voila!



I'm waiting on a delivery (not the mother's) and then I'll wrap this puppy up, ship it out and call it done!

Today's bread lesson is about a protein in wheat called gluten. Gluten is an important feature of your bread dough. If you don't knead your dough enough, you won't activate the gluten and your dough won't rise well. I'm sure it's possible to knead dough too long, but I've never witnessed it. And I tend to leave my mixer running a while.

I realize not everyone is the closet chemist I am, therefore I'm going to do an experiment today, so you don't have to. I'm going to extract gluten from flour.

In my mixer, I added 1/2 cup water and 1 cup flour (I used bread flour, but regular white flour will work too). I let it ride for about ten minutes. Then I gradually added more water.



And it started looking like paper mache paste. Yum.

I kept mixing and adding more water (about three cups) until it was very runny. Then I plunged my hands into the glop and fished around for lumps:



And there it is. Stretchy, sticky, ugly gluten. Before motherhood, I would have been a little grossed out by this. Now I have children.

Boys.

And, actually, I buy gluten flour (called Vital Wheat Gluten) and use it to make vegan meat substitutes.

But don't you think it's kind of cool to see that flour is more than just flour?

Bread Making Part 3: Loving Your Starter

So now you have a lovely little starter percolating (or you will in a couple days). I don't know about you, but after all that work, I want this guy to stick around for a while.

Remember, this isn't scary. Your starter is simply a way to store and have a steady supply of yeast. Sure it's futzier than those packets of yeast, but it's just yeast.

Yeast that either needs to be fed constantly, or forced to take a nap.

Ideal situation: You use part of your starter to make bread, then you continue to feed the remaining starter until you make more bread (in a day or two).

or

You make up a batch of dough using all your starter and break off a lump of dough (before you shape your loaves but after the first rising) which you pet and love and call George and knead into tomorrow's bread. When I try to do this, I usually forget to pinch off my George and he ends up in the oven. One sure way to kill George is to bake him.

or

You make your bread using some of your starter. Feed the remaining starter and stick in a jar (I use a pint jar) in the fridge where it will gradually cover itself in grayish liquid and go dormant. You can keep it dormant for months this way, but when you need it again, it will take a couple days of room-temp feeding to wake up.

And for the adventurous among you: If you fiddle with your flour to water ratios, say two parts flour to one part water, your starter will become less sour. If you leave it as a dough, it will be even less sour.

The kitchen is all about chemistry experiments.

Tomorrow, or once I remember to take pictures, we will make our first loaf of sourdough bread.

Well...I already ate my first slice with dinner. Then I toasted some the next day. But you can make your first loaf.

Bread Making Part 2: A Sourdough Starter

I've finished the sleeves of the baby sweater and now I'm knitting the collar. It should be done in a week (or less...or more).

A starter is a good step for aspiring breadmakers to learn. Basically, it's a source of live yeast. The yeast you get in packets or in a jar is dormant--it needs a little moisture and food to activate. But a starter contains active, hungry yeast that need to be fed. You can keep a starter for months, years, decades. And I'm sure someone has one that dates back to 4897 BC.

Or you could be like me and, once again, kill off your starter (by freezing it over a year). Which simply means you have to start the start of a new starter.

Sourdough starter has yeast and other lively critters that give it it's pleasant tang. The acidity helps prevent less desirable critters from taking over. Every microclimate produces a slightly different flavor and ordering a starter from one locale is pointless, as your local microbes will make it what it should be for your location.

There are several ways to make starter, this one is my favorite because it's simple and sour.

My Sourdough Starter:

3/4 cup flour, preferably organic but not necessary (white, wheat, rye, anything that has starch)
3/4 cup water

Mix together in a medium bowl (you'll be adding to it as the days go on). Cover loosely. Note the general time of day (i.e. morning, evening, cocktail hour).

The next day, at about the same time, add 1/2 cup flour and 1/2 cup water. Mix thoroughly. Cover loosely.


After feeding. It's not pretty but it's alive.

Repeat the above feeding for 3-7 days until one of two things happens:

1. Your starter smells nasty, has a pinkish tinge, or just sits there. Throw it out and start over.
2. Your starter smells sour or beer-y (sniff all the sourdough bread at the grocery store next time you're there). It's bubbly and asks for it's daily meal.

On second thought, if your starter talks to you, you may want to step away from the breadmaking altogether and move on to homebrewing. Or hydroponic gardening.

Tips:

It happens faster if it's warmer.
It's okay if a little clear, grayish or brownish water separates out. If the water is pink (and smells rotten), toss it.
If you don't trust the process, add the tiniest pinch of yeast at the beginning (like 1-2 grains).

Next post, we'll discuss care and feeding of your new bundle of joy.

Bread Making Part 1: Equipment

Don't forget to vote (for my colorwork sweater) if you haven't yet.

I'm making sourdough bread as I type this. There is a heavenly, beery-yeasty-sour sort of smell eminating from my kitchen.

And it occured to me that I haven't really shared any of my bread making expertise with you.

A year and a half ago, I challenged myself to bake all our bread from scratch, including tortillas. I managed to go six weeks before tortillas broke me--they were awesome if they were eaten directly off the griddle, but became hardtack after about 23 seconds. I continued baking bread for another month or so, but the Businessman rebelled with a loaf of Wonder.

Besides (re)discovering that the Businessman is a simple, simple man who just wants squishy white bread that tastes like glue. I learned a lot.

My essential equipment:



Celeste, my KitchenAid Mixer-A huge thank you goes out to KH who convinced the Businessman, seven years ago, not to get me a microwave for Christmas. But hand-kneading is great if that's what you want.



Cheap clay tiles-from the hardware store. If they cost a buck each, they're pricey. I never remove them (unless I need the second rack). They do wonders for your oven temperature and simulate good old-fashioned clay ovens.



Oven thermometer-At the best of times my oven is horribly inaccurate (as most self-cleaning ovens are). The tiles effect the temp too so an oven thermometer is crucial.

Beyond that, all you need are flour and water. Oh yeah, and salt. I always forget the salt. Bread made without salt is sort of pointless. Unless you have a dungeon and are preparing prisoner's rations.

Tomorrow, we'll start by starting a starter.