Leavening our cold weather

Amidst the trials and tribulations transitioning from one year to the next, we pulled off a mitigated success. Our first loaf of Artisan Sourdough, using absolutely no yeast, turned out edible, and with decent crumb. The mitigated part of our success arises (see what we did there?) from the fact that we didn't follow directions carefully enough. The directions called for bread flour. We used all purpose flour. Our dough did not shape up, at least before it was about two-thirds baked. We also used too large a bowl for the overnight rise, making it difficult to see how much, if at all, the dough had risen.

first loaf of artisan sourdough

Photo by J. Harrington

But, for the first time ever, we baked sourdough without yeast! In the process, we also discovered a few other, a-hum, anomalies in baking artisan bread. The Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day formula calls for baking for about 30 minutes at 450℉. Artisan Sourdough calls for a total of an hour at 450℉. When we used the Five Minutes baking time with our gluten-free flour last week, the bread came out mostly unbaked with a nice golden crust.

So, one of our bottom lines are that we're having fun playing with following directions and learning in the process. Next time we bake some gluten-free artisan bread, we'll use the artisan sourdough technique and timing. We're also learning to pay more attention to adjustments that need to be made with flour substitutions. As some of the creative types we read from time to time declaim, if we never make mistakes, we're unlikely to learn anything new. Plus, as we were reviewing the Five Minutes contents, we rediscovered a Vermont cedar bread recipe we've been meaning to try. It had sort of fallen off of our radar screen. We'll get to it next week, since the forecast "January thaw" isn't likely to come close to putting a dent in our baking program. Winter baking warms the house as it fills the house with wonderful smells. That's almost enough to make us be more tolerant of temperatures well below zero. Almost!

       Aubade with Bread for the Sparrows

By Oliver de la Paz

The snow voids the distance of the road

and the first breath comes from the early morning

ghosts. The sparrows with their hard eyes

glisten in the difficult light. They preen

their feathers and chirp. It’s as though they were one

voice talking to God.

                                    Mornings are a sustained hymn

without the precision of faith. You’ve turned the bag

filled with molding bread inside out and watch

the old crusts fall to the ice. What’s left

but to watch the daylight halved by the glistening ground?

What’s left but an empty bag and the dust of bread

ravaged by songsters?

                                       There are ruins we witness

within the moment of the world’s first awakening

and the birds love you within that moment. They want

to eat the air and the stars they’ve hungered for, little razors.

Little urgent bells, the birds steal from each other’s mouths

which makes you hurt. Don’t ask for more bread.

The world is in haste to waken. Don’t ask for a name

you can surrender, for there are more ghosts to placate.

Don’t hurt for the sparrows, for they love you like a road.

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.