Crusty white Italian loaf - unplugged

MsG recently invested in copies of Yotam Ottolenghi's two books: The Cookbook and Plenty. Plenty is packed with recipes from his Guardian Weekend column, such as the smashing Shakshuka. Both MsG and I have made recipes from this book and have found ourselves enjoying a variety of ingredients and combinations we'd previously never tried (and in some cases, vociferously refused) to cook with or eat.

The Cookbook also includes a hefty baking section. I've already made a few of the recipes, including the semolina tart (see pic below; I heretically used strawberries instead of the prescribed raspberries) and focaccia.

One recipe that had to be tackled was the crusty white Italian loaf. A recipe by Dan Lepard, the loaf is described as "having dark crunchy crust, soft waxy centre with giant holes and giant flavour". Sounds very tempting but the recipes states: "To achieve this creation … you need a good mixer as the dough is very wet and sticky and takes a lot of kneading. Don't try to do it by hand or using an old weak machine." For an advocate of hand made bread this caveat had the soft plopping sound of a floury baking gauntlet being thrown down.

The first attempt was a minor disaster. I tried using Richard Bertinet's technique for hand mixing but the final loaf was flat, dense and doughy; just awful. However, I was still convinced the loaf could be made completely by hand and was sure that if I adopted Dan Lepard's mxing style it would work. MsG tweeted Dan about it, and brilliantly, he replied saying that, yes a slow or no knead technique would work.

And so the following Friday I made the loaf using Mr Lepard's slow knead technique and the loaf was a success (see the handsome devil in the first picture above). An almost Faustian have-your-cake-and-eat-it mix of the best bits of all your favourite bread: a rustic crunchy crust, a soft, chewy crumb and a brilliant intense flavour. Definately well worth the effort.

Mills and boon

Over the last few weekends MsG and I have visited some local mills. The Cambridge and Norfolk fens are littered with many remaining sites but only a handful are still complete, and even fewer are actually working.

The best we've seen so far has been the wonderful windmill in Denver. Thanks to the hard working owner, the mill is working well and producing ground flour.

If you should visit this delightful mill, please observe the following advice. Avoid shoving your arms or other appendages into anything that moves and clanks to avoid stomach churning mutilation; watch where your step so you don't plummet to your death; and avoid banging your noggin on the numerous head-height obstacles! Beware: danger! Do all of the above, buying a bag of freshly ground flour, relaxing and enjoying a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich (cake for the veggies!) in their lovely tea room and stop to chat with the owner and you'll have found yourself tucking away another fond memory.

A pint of bread please, Landlord!

This weekend marks the start of a run of beer-based bread antics…

Saturday, I travelled accross several counties to visit the old folks, armed with the gift of loaf: a handsome looking ale-poolish loaf I'd baked the night before.

Sunday: I baked a Guinness and rye flour loaf. It begins likes this: Guinness, flour and yeast are whisked together and left to ferment for a few hours, creating a kind of poolish. More flour and a little salt is added to it before being worked for about 5-10 minutes. Next? You know the score: rest, stretch, rest, shape, prove and bake.

The baked loaf was pretty good, the rye and Guinness imparting a strong malty almost aniseedy taste. With plenty of white flour added to the poolish style ferment the loaf is also surprisingly light. Guinness is generally for drinking in our house, though it it has been sloshed into sausage casseroles before, but it also makes a good sturdy ingredient in bread.

To the lads at Guinness: if want to send me a free keg or two to say, 'thanks for nod' then drop me a line.

Next weekend, I'm planning to make an ale barm loaf: live bottle-conditioned ale mixed with a little leaven. I'm excited. I really am.

Slasher horror

Friday. I made another sourdough loaf. And I forgot to slash it. AGAIN! And so another sourdough loaf was baked sans slash. Nevertheless, it did bake well and we all agreed it tasted pretty good. Slashes? We don't need no stinking slashes!

Sunday. I made another sourdough loaf. I slashed that mother!

It tasted just the same, baked just the same. But this time however, the loaf had a striking pattern of stripes accross it. It would've made a stunning dining table centre-piece for a dinner party with friends. Unfortunately, I wasn't hosting a dinner party. And I don't have any friends.

One slight eff-up: in the early stage of baking, the dough oozed* over the edge of the baking stone, which created a strange kind of loaf-claw* on the edge of the loaf.

*Genuine baking jargon.

Khorasan Klub

This weekend's star turns: Pizza dough! Khorasan loaf!

The pizza dough recipe was taken from Ciril Hitz's book, Handmade Breads. Not using Italian '00' grade flour I can't say for certain just how authentic the recipe was but it made a pair of very tasty pizzas. The addition of cornmeal to the mix gave a crunchiness and a generously fermented poolish added extra zing to the flavour.

The khorasan loaf recipe is a first for me, taken from the recently acquired Crust book. Principle ingredient is kamut khorasan flour (check out the link ) which gives a loaf a richer, sweeter, nutty taste and imparts a pleasant sandy colour to the crumb and a golden hue to the crust. Surprisingly easy to make we all agreed: lovely bread!

Soured DOH!

Over the weekend I made another attempt at a sourdough. The requisite stages all went well: the ferment nice and sour, the mix and kneading smooth, and the transfer from banetton to baking sheet by the book slick. I was thrusting the dough into the steamy oven, slamming the door shut when I realised: I hadn't slashed the loaf. The horror!

I didn't shout but I think I did say the f word approximately 20 times.

It might seem an overreaction but a sourdough loaf without slashes is just plain wrong. It's like Walk on the Wild Side without the sax solo, The Third Man without the Zither score, or E S Blofeld without his white cat. Just a simple, deceptively minor addition that adds so much.

Nevertheless, the final loaf did taste really, very good - even without slashes.

Ale Poolish Loaf

A loaf baked with ale? It sounds like madness, but it seems that if a potential ingredient is at least technically edible then you can put it in a loaf.

Read top bread boffin Dan Lepard's bread book and you'll see recipes that include ale, cider, wine, whey (or the water that mozzarella is packed in), cucumber pickle juice, lard, pork crackling to name a few (not all the same loaf). Yum, yum.

In this instance, ale is mixed with an equal weight of flour and a little yeast to create a poolish ferment. Left to bubble overnight it's added into the dough mix the next morning. The resulting dough has a wonderful, strong sweet aroma which stays with it throughout the whole process, right through to the final baked loaf.

The loaf had a distinct malty taste, with a nice golden crust and soft, sweet white crumb. Another tasty recipe from Crust.

East Anglian Secret Sourdough Society

The first recipe to be tackled from Crust had to be the sourdough loaf. Having made Dan Lepard's leaven loaves a few times I felt I was ready to take on Mr Bertinet's authentic sourdough method.

Using Bertinet's flour / water ratio for his sourdough ferment, I refreshed good old Cuthbert the Leaven. After a few days of cultivating I had nice sweet smelling ferment just like it said in the book.

Anyway I can hear your eyes glazing over: "Oh geez more boring baking tosh!" you rightly wimper. So I'll condense the tale into a few simple, yet thrilling facts.

Eight thrilling sourdough recipe facts: 
• Ingredients included spelt flour. Yes: SPELT!
• 18 hours to prove! (I used a banetton.)
• 35 minutes to bake.
• When baked it had a sweet and sour aroma.
• Thick crunchy, chewy crust.
• Soft, tasty sour crumb.
• Everyone who had a bit said it was nice.
• Makes the best toast ever.

It was a success. Hooray! I'll be making this again soon.