Soak It To Me

There's a new technique sweeping the nation, and I'm surprised that it took us this long to talk about it on our blog. And no, I'm not talking about No-Knead Bread.

The technique I'm referring to involves the use of "soakers" (and their cousins the "mashes") as part of bread doughs, to dramatically improve flavour. We have used soakers in some of the formulas on this blog, but we never really explained what they are. Very simply put, the method consists in soaking part of a formula's flour in water "over-night" (or more generally put, for 12 to 24 hours) before mixing the dough. The percentage of flour to be soaked can vary quite significantly, but for reasons of maintaining some dough strength, I personally never soak more than 30% of my flour.

When we mix our dough, and all "components" come together and all the dry ingredients get hydrated, there are a few processes that start taking place concurrently. The two most important of these are:

1. The yeast organisms are awakened and start looking for food. Their food of choice are simple sugars (or monosacharrides), mainly fructose and glucose. Initially, the amount of simple sugars in the developing dough are quite small (assuming sugar is not one of the ingredients).
2. The enzymes present (mostly) in the flour, start working their magic on the carbohydrates (mostly starches) that make up the largest part of the flour. These carbohydrates are very large molecules of complex sugars, and through their action, the enzymes start to break them down into much simpler molecules (or simple sugars). The resulting simple sugars will end up serving as food for the yeast; will contribute to flavour; and will help give the crust it's characteristic golden-brown colour (through caramelization that occurs during baking).

By pre-soaking some of the flour, we give the enzymes a head start, allowing them to initiate the production of simple sugars well in advance of the actual dough preparation. This ensures that there will be plenty of simple sugars to go around as food for the yeast, as flavour producers, and for caramelization.

Similarly, by using boiling water to scold grains or whole grain flours, one ends up with "mashes" that have very high enzyme activity, and thus contribute a lot of natural sweetness to the dough. The process, of course, is a little more elaborate than that, and I'm not going to go into all the details, but it is covered and very well explained in a book by Peter Reinhart called Whole Grain Breads.

There is a little experiment that we would encourage everyone to do. Next time you will bake your favourite/staple/classic loaf, try soaking some of your flour beforehand and observe how that changes the results. Not only should it improve the flavour, but you might also notice differences in the way the dough handles, in the volume of your loaf, in the colour of your crust, etc.

But let us change gears here for a moment and get into how it all came about.

If this seems like an overly long and rambling post: You ain't seen nothing yet. But bear with us, the story is going to get better.

The credit for bringing the soaking method into the mainstream of artisan baking goes to Peter Reinhart, who has encountered the use of a similar technique in France, and then spent a couple of years trying to understand and to explain (in a very well written book) the science involved in this process.

The story of how he ran into this technique (as told by Reinhart in his ground-braking The Bread Baker's Apprentice) is quite interesting. Reinhart had won the James Beard National Bread Competition in 1995, and the first prize was supposed to consist in a five-day stage with the Parisian baker of his choice. In 1996 when he went to France to collect on his prize, he decided instead to try to spend a day each with five different bakers; clearly a much better proposition. Luckily, it all worked out. And that is how he got to meet Philippe Gosselin (among other titans) and learned how to make pain à l'ancienne. According to Reinhart, learning that technique (in fact, a delayed-fermentation method) was the single most important bread thing that happened to him on that trip.

Reinhart was fascinated by this method and by the superior flavour it produced when applied to any formula, but in particular to whole grain breads. He dedicated a lot of time and effort to studying it, and decided to write a new book to popularize both whole grain based baking and the new techniques he was so fascinated with. By the late summer of 2005 he had a manuscript that was pretty much ready to be sent to the publishers.

And here is where I entered the stage ...

Yes, that's true: Here is where I entered the stage. But, alas, I was not a protagonist in this story, only a mere observer. But what a show it was!

In early September of 2005 the first Camp Bread took place in San Francisco, at the headquarters of the San Francisco Baking Institute (or SFBI, as we, the people in the know, like to call it). It was an event the likes of which we hadn't seen before. It was organized by the Bread Bakers Guild of America (BBGA), it took a tremendous effort to piece together, but it was spectacular in every respect and ran smoother than everybody could have imagined. Camp Bread had been envisioned as a three-day event where artisan bakers from all over America would gather to meet, commune, party, and learn from each other.

We all descended on San Francisco on September 10. All two hundred and sixteen of us. I was one of only six Canadians present at this event. The first evening we assembled at Boudin's Bakery Museum for a grand tour, drinks, food, and a good time. The atmosphere was electric: we got to meet old friends, new people, and got a glimpse of some of the legendary figures we knew only from photographs and videos, or who's books adorn every serious baker's shelves. As for myself, I got to have a little chat with Peter Reinhart on the subject of Orthodox Christianity! After the party, we all went to our sleeping quarters, eager for an early morning start to what was already shaping up to be an unforgettable event.

There were a tremendous number of classes and workshops for everybody; so many in fact, that they were overlapping, and people had a hard time choosing which ones to take.Would you take Didier Rosada's Techniques in Sourdough Production or Jeffrey Hamelman's Techniques in Rye and German Bread Production? And if you were going for Rosada, you were sure to also miss out on Peter Reinhart's Cold Fermentation class. We are talking tough choices here. I opted for the power duo: Hamelman (with Jory Downer as a TA!) and Reinhart.

So, to get back to our original story, here we were, a bunch of wide-eyed kids listening to the master's every word. Reinhart was explaining the technique of cold fermentation and how the dough is mixed the night before using very cold water (ice water really) and then right away refrigerated, to ensure enzyme activity, on one hand, but no yeast activity, on the other. Then, the next morning, the dough comes out of the cooler and, when it reaches room temperature, the yeast comes back to life and the whole baking process is set in motion.

At that point, one of the attendees, one Allen Cohn, who I later came to appreciate as an extremely knowledgeable and passionate home baker, and a very active guild member, put up his hand to ask the question that would change baking forever. He was wondering, why we needed to add the yeast, if we were only looking for enzyme activity, but not leavening. Why not just add the yeast to the dough the next morning, remix, and continue from there. In fact, he added, why even bother with refrigeration; does refrigeration benefit enzyme activity in any way? Other than Peter Reinhart himself, I don't think anyone in the room realized the enormous impact these questions would have on Reinhart's understanding of the method and on bread baking in general. He ended up having to revise and, in effect, to rewrite the entire manuscript upon his return from Camp Bread, a process that pushed back the publishing of his book by almost two years.

As for me, I had tons of fun in San Francisco: I took some pretty awesome classes and workshops, I made some new friends, and even got to know a little bit of San Francisco, a city that is one of my favourites. Camp Bread came and went; we all had a blast and we took home some good stories, new knowledge (to be tested in our bakeries ASAP), and fond memories. There were some very inspiring moments (Jeffrey Hamelman's "We are lucky to be bakers" speech as he accepted the 2005 Golden Baguette Award comes to mind) and some sad ones as well (as when we all took a moment to remember Professor Raymond Calvel, who had just passed away a couple of days before in Paris). In the end, the one thing that will always stay with me after all this is: "Boy, are we lucky to be bakers."

Baker's math

To paraphrase a famous political commentator: "I got into baking bread because I was told there would be no math. Boy, was I misled."

I'm joking, of course. I happen to think math is beautiful and that using math in baking enables us to achieve high quality, consistent results time and again. One of the best tools we have for writing and/or communicating recipes and formulas is what is generally known as "baker's math" or "baker's percentages."

Before I start glossing about baker's math, here's Rule no.1: Baker's math only works when measuring ingredients "by weight," rather than "by volume." Serious bakers generally prefer measuring by weight, because this method is a lot more accurate than measuring by volume. After all, everybody has a different way of measuring a cup of flour. Not to mention that not all cups are created equal.

So, there's an extra incentive for measuring by weight: you get to use baker's math! And by using it, you can better communicate with other fellow bakers half a world away. A 68% hydration baguette should be the same no matter where one happens to be in the world.

Baker's math expresses each ingredient in a formula as a percentage of that ingredient's mass to the total flour mass. Which means, the total amount of flour in the formula will be expressed as 100%, while all the other ingredients will represent fractions (or percentages) of the total amount of flour. A simple example should make it even easier to understand. Here's a very basic baguette formula: 1000 g all-purpose flour, 680 g water, 5 g instant yeast, 20 g salt. Using baker's math, this formula would look something like:

Basic Baguette Dough

1000 g all-purpose flour (100%)
680 g water (68%)
5 g instant yeast (0.5%)
20 g salt (2%)

Please note that with a formula written in this way, one can easily scale a batch up or down to suit one's needs. One can start by deciding what amount of dough/number of loaves one wants to produce, and easily figure out the amounts of all the ingredients necessary; or one can do the opposite, determine how much flour one has available and from there figure out the amounts for all other ingredients and how much dough will result in the end. The possibilities and variations are endless, and quite fun to play with. In other words, here we have a method of writing our bread formulas that is simple, intuitive, and elegant.

Or is it?

It can all get a little bit more complicated and even confusing at times when the formulas are more complex, particularly when we start using pre-ferments, soakers, and mashes. In fact, I have seen the same formula written in three different ways; all of them correct!

Let's take the above formula as an example and assume we are planning to produce it by pre-fermenting and soaking part of our flour. Let's say we'll do a 6-hour sponge, a 12-hour poolish, and a 12- to 24-hour soaker as part of our final dough. We might have something that looks like this:

Sponge (6 hours at room temperature):

150 g all-purpose flour (100%)
93 g water (62%)
1 g instant yeast (0.66%)

Poolish (12 hours at room temperature):

200 g all-purpose flour (100%)
200 g water (100%)
1 g instant yeast (0.5%)

Soaker (12–24 hours at room temperature):

150 g all-purpose flour (100%)
105 g water (70%)

As we assemble everything into our final dough, the formula will look like this:

Final Dough:

500 g all-purpose flour (100%)
282 g water (56.4%)
3 g instant yeast (0.6%)
20 g salt (4%)
244 g sponge (48.8%)
401 g poolish (80%)
255 g soaker (51%)

All of a sudden, this type of formula isn't that straight forward and easy to read, nor is it as simple as before to scale your batches up or down. No matter; this is still a valid way to communicate formulas and a very useful tool indeed for any baker.

And what is the point of all this little exercise, you might wonder.

The point of it is that in the past we've had "consistency issues" in the way we've written our recipes, not just on this blog, but also when developing new formulas for ourselves, or for our workshops. So this was something that was nagging us and didn't let us sleep at night. I'm not sure if this whole rant is completely intelligible, but if you have questions, don't hesitate to give us a shout.

And to end this: I've always found it very useful to have a recipe expressed both in "Total Formula" form, as well as in "Final Dough" form. Something similar to the example bellow:

The Twelve Steps

We have a little hand-out that we ... hand out every time we do one of our bread baking workshops. It outlines the twelve steps of baking, and over the course of three hours we go over and explain every one of the twelve steps. At the end of it all, everyone should have a better understanding of how it's all done.

I didn't come up with this concept; I have seen the "12 steps" treatment done in quite a few really good baking books, most notably "The Pastry Chef's Companion" by Glenn Rinsky and Laura Halpin Rinsky (the original inspiration for this hand-out), "The Bread Baker's Apprentice" by Peter Reinhart, and "Bread" by Jeffrey Hamelman.

I thought I might add my little list to this blog for all of you out there who might want to look at it. It can be found here. Hope that it all makes sense. Enjoy.

So Who Is This Autolyse Anyway

It has been pointed out to me that throughout our blog we use the term "autolyse" quite a bit without ever explaining its meaning. We also use the autolyse technique in pretty much all our baking. Let me try then to explain my own understanding of what autolyse is and what kind of benefits we get from using this technique.

The term itself is of Greek origin and literally means "self digestion". In biology, it refers to the destruction of a cell through the action of its own enzymes. In bread baking, it has to do with the transformation of flour due to the action of enzymes present in the flour itself.

For the purpose of bread baking, the term "autolyse" was coined by the late professor Raymond Calvel. Calvel is credited with developing or improving many of the bread baking techniques used nowadays by artisan bakers all over the world. He also had a large contribution in reviving French-style bread baking ... in France. Yes indeed, it's hard to believe, but good quality bread baking was all but extinct in France, following almost a century of decline in quality.

In the process of dough mixing, the autolyse technique consists in an initial mixing of flour and water (without the other ingredients), followed by a rest period. After the rest period, the yeast, salt, and all other ingredients are added and the dough is mixed to the desired level of gluten development. In a variation of the above process, only the salt is held back and added after the resting period. Either way, the main benefit of the autolyse is a better hydration of flour (by not having to "compete" for water with the salt and other dry ingredients), as well as a head-start for enzyme activity and faster gluten development. Doughs produced with the autolyse method result in loaves that are easier to shape, have more volume, and improved structure.

Try this technique on your favourite bread formula and you should see dramatic improvement. Also, if you get a chance, check out Raymond Calvel's ground-braking book The Taste of Bread. It's very hard to come by these days, but it's quite an eye-opener.

Happy baking!

Wild Yeast

May we introduce? These are our little babies, two quite different individuals; both are exceptional and one of a kind. And both are very much alive! To keep them active and happy at all times, we use them in our baking on a regular basis. The two sourdough cultures go back to Florin's time as a baker. The rye culture he started himself from scratch, while he got the white flour culture from a friend. 

If baking with sourdough is something that interests you, but you don't have a source for the culture, just start your own. It's easy and fun. All you need is water, flour and a little bit of patience.

How it all works

In a sourdough culture there are two kinds of micro-organisms: the flavour-producing bacteria (lactobacilli) and some sort of leavening agent (in this case, wild yeasts). A sourdough culture (or starter), used in bread baking, is a symbiosis of these two types of micro-organisms. 

While the particular species may vary from culture to culture, the basic mechanism is always the same: The lactobacillus is what gives sourdough bread its characteristic flavour. It makes the culture acidic, and is responsible for keeping the culture healthy and "clean", while fighting other compeating micro-organisms and pathogens. The yeast is what makes the dough rise. In the process of fermentation, the carbon dioxide that is produced, will create the air pockets that give bread its characteristic structure.

Once you started a sourdough culture you need to feed it on a regular basis. If you decide to keep your culture at room temperature you will have to feed it quite frequently, approximately every 12–24 hours (depending on the ambient temperature and on how active your culture is). If  that sounds too intense for you, you might consider refrigerating your culture right after feeding it. You can keep it in the fridge for about week. To use it in baking, remember to take it out of the fridge the day before you actually want to use it. Let it come to room temperature, then replenish it once and give it time to ferment. Now it should be ready to go. 

Feeding your culture involves removing parts of it, to get rid of its waste products (so that the environment doesn't become hostile to your pet microbes), then replenishing the remainder with fresh water and the type of flour of your choice. Make sure that all of the flour is hydrated. 

Day 1

To get started, take a clean container and mix about 200 grams of flour (wheat or rye) with 200 grams of water. Close the container and have it sitting at room temperature. 

Day 2

Feed your mixture after 24 hours by discarding half of it and adding again 200 grams of flour and 200 grams of water. Make sure that everything is mixed well and all of the flour is hydrated.  

Day 3

At this point there will probably be some signs of fermentation, your water-flour mixture might start to show bubbles and might have risen a little bit. Keep feeding your starter following the same schedule as before. 

Day 4

Today you should see a lot of rising. The starter might have doubled in size, or even more. If that is not the case let it sit for another 12 to 24 hours. Feed it the same way as before. It is ready, when it expands in only a few hours after feeding. It might also take another day or two, to get to that point.  If you decide to make a stiffer starter, add some extra flour.

There you go, you have helped your own sourdough culture come alive!