First of all, it needs to be said that in preparation for this post I decided to peruse the Internet for some bread related puns. I’ve also decided to spare you the details but I did entertain myself for a good twenty minutes (that’s what happens when you’re overworked and underemployed: you seek out unusual ways to unwind).
Yesterday, while I was shop sitting my mother’s store, a dark car pulled up, a man jumped out, launched himself through the open gallery door, and pushed a yogurt container full of a watery, floury, substance into my hands with specific directions on how to “feed” it. After a brief moment of total confusion, I realized that this was the gentlemen who had stopped by my mother’s store the day before and who she had confided in, telling him that her daughter was home mixing up a batch of bread starter for what she feared would be another failed recipe attempt. This gentleman was so excited by my alleged novice bread-baking efforts that he insisted that he drop off his own, very tested, and very successful starter from the cookbook of Tartine Bakery in San Francisco. And that’s how the Tuesday afternoon event came to be when I was drive-by-yeasted with this beautiful starter. I was thrilled to have the bread recipe, but I was overjoyed (once I figured out just exactly what was going on) by this idea of sharing the recipe, passing on the starter, breading it forward, if you will (yeah, the phrasing needs work, but the thought is there).
I don’t bake bread. I’m sure you can guess at least one reason why –I harbor a not-so-secret contempt for recipes that require absurd amounts of waiting around time, and bread, rising for at least two hours, getting punched down and then rising again, and then needing even more resting time after it’s been shaped but before it ever actually enters the oven, definitely qualifies itself for this category. Then there’s the following directions issue. Bread is not an improvised dish – the proportions matter, crucially so. But I’m trying to change, really. I have now made several batches of cookies successfully for teatime at the inn, and each batch has been received with rave reviews (aka lip-smacking yummy noises). And mind you, these are guests that I am feeding the cookies to and who are, unlike my own family members, under no obligation to choke down botched cookie recipes to make me feel special. The cookie reviews are in, they’re real, and they’re good.
Finally, back to the bread issue, there is the kneading problem. I can’t knead bread. I imagine it’s the yeast that is the offender, triggering an allergic reaction that causes my hands to break out in eczema and hives, to become red and inflamed and raw by the time the dough is ready for the oven. I do believe that good food is a labor of love, but when the whole blood sweat and tears thing becomes shockingly real, you have to draw the line somewhere. That is the real reason that lead me to Jeff Hertzberg and Zoë François' book, Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day, (you may recognize it as a continuation of their other bestseller, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day). The beauty of this bread is that, like a sourdough, you mix up one big base batch, which is good for up to two weeks in the refrigerator (my current sketchy refrigerator issues aside), and then you just break off hunks of the starter, mix in other ingredients, and create several different breads with little preparation time throughout the weeks. And (drum roll please) kneading is not required. It’s a wetter dough using both active yeast and vital wheat gluten that you just quick mix together and then leave to do its thing. I’ll admit that I was nervous, but I am thrilled to report that my first loaf was a wonderful success. It’s a bit misshapen, and I don’t think it was actually supposed to be that small, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. I snuck down to the kitchen several times that evening just to stare at it in adoration. I am not going to reproduce the recipe here because although the ingredients are straight forward, the recipe's true charm lies in the specifics of the directions and the attention to detail provided by the authors that simply cannot be paraphrased. They literally answer all questions; never are you left hanging thinking, but I don’t have a baking stone, what now?! Just use parchment paper and a cookie sheet. The book is brilliant.
I will say that the five minutes a day thing is pure gimmick: it refers to the time it takes to tear off a chunk of dough and mix in the rest of the ingredients – herbs, seeds etc. The time spent preparing the initial base, the hours and hours of rest time, and then the actual baking time, do not seem to fit into these five minutes. I mean, let’s face it, your oven likely won’t even reach baking temperature in five minutes, so, if you purchased this book thinking you would actually have a beautiful loaf in less time than it takes for your morning coffee to percolate, well, you should probably keep that to yourself. But the good news is, you’ve purchased a great book filled with a lot of useful information – grain facts and nutrition, recipes for breads and meals that revolve around them, and some general baking tips as well, not to mention directions that are well written, and narrative that is a delight to read. Marketing gimmick or not, I was willing to give this approach to bread-making a try, and the results are heartily filling and fulfilling, and left me craving more. But the best part is, by making bread in bigger batches, there is plenty to pass on to friends. I’m thinking about starting a mail order bread service – Short of Dough Bakery, or maybe I Need a Raise Boulangerie. I’m still working on the title.
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