things have been busy my end. i have been, in terms of small-town barmaid who doesn't really socialize in this town, living la vida loca. yesterday was the killer; i was on a 9-5 course about wine and spirits, then i had my best mate laura coming over for dinner so she could nick some of the clothes i was getting rid of (and bitch about our respective exes; not to get all candace bushnell on you here, but why can't women as talented and successful as us seem to do anything other than go out with complete chiefs? oh, cos life sucks, right.). the course was excellent, particularly on the wine front; although the guy who came from the spirits company (it's a big one, and they also own guinness, for those in the know) got a bad write up from me because his attitude was terrible; which is something i've yet to encounter from anyone in my company. still, i learned a lot of ridiculous facts about booze; and luke, our wine-trainer referred to me as a 'know-it-all' when grilling me on blended wines, so yet again i've managed, despite my approach to office dress (it can only be described as 'luminous') to dazzle in the world of corporate bartending. i know, right? check me out.
but the earlier half of my week was spent on affairs much more domestic and routine. i made me some more bread. i may have mentioned before that learning, to me, is a series of cautious and mindful repetitions under the authority of someone i respect (which made the spirits guy yesterday all the more jarring to me; i cannot respect somebody whose attitude to those lower than him is condescending and offensive). it will, then, come as no surprise really that again i have made loaves of plain white bread. i will, here, direct you to the original recipe i used, from daniel stevens' river cottage bread handbook. i used this recipe again this time, but there were a few variants, so i took some process pictures for you. i don't mean, in any way here, to set myself up as an authority on breadmaking, because, well, frankly, i'm not, having only three batches under my belt, this is more an exercise in 'teaching as i learn' or, as my company would put it, 'training as i train'.
this is my starting point. as you can see i have used dried yeast, the kind you activate in water. i have as yet, not used fresh yeast in my breadmaking, although i have previously used it in sweet baking (cinnamon buns and the like). dried yeast is actually recommended by the book, for it's behavioural consistency. you can get fresh yeast from supermarket bakeries if you ask, but given their irreverence in storing other produce, i personally am not going to advise it.
this is the dough once mixed together and given it's slug of olive oil. i am always amazed, when i use the method stevens espouses, mixing with two fingers of your right hand, clockwise, when it all comes together.
this is my dough post-kneading, oiled and ready to rise. oil is recommended as opposed to flouring, because it creates an airtight seal on the bread. god bless anabolic respiration (can you tell i just got off a wine course? god yeast is a fascinating thing).
and this is my dough post-rise. i pop a carrier bag over the bowl and let it have at it. cos it's the middle of winter, it tends to take about an hour and a half, but i anticipate similar problems in summer since i have what can only be described as a breeze-fetish, especially if i'm in the kitchen. it was actually really handy having a before picture so i could measure it's rising pace; i think that's a procedure i may implement in future. good old technology, helping cynics like me who shun faux nostalgia in their cooking.
this is two of my lumps of dough, shaped into rounds after knocking back. i had a third, which i left for a second rise, which stevens suggests gives a more airy, elastic dough, and consequently, a lighter crumb. more realistically it was a question of oven space. mum and bob were cooking sausage kebabs (i find it better not to ask about these things) so the top oven was off limits.
and here are my first two loaves proving. i don't know if you can tell, but the one on the right is proving with nowt more than a rucked up cloth to support it, and the one on the left is proving in my approximation of a proving basket (loaf tin plus linen tea towel). proving baskets provide additional support, but you put the shaped loaves into them upside down, so when it comes to time to bake you can literally just heft them out of the pan onto the tray you're using. i hadn't previously used one so i figured in the name of experiment it might be a good idea. i also proved my double-risen loaf in a basket.
okay, finished loaves = success. pictured here, in the front of the picture, is my freeform single-risen loaf. i must have got shaping pretty much down pat because it doesn't have that weird bigger-at-the-ends shape that happened last time (also always happens when i roll cigarettes). at the back is my double risen loaf.
and here, i think is the one i am most proud of. this one was the single-rise one i proved in a basket. i actually had to text ed when i took it out of the oven (no one else quite gets how much this kind of stuff affects me) and i think i used the phrase 'oh my god' about a hundred times. i like being able to see visible improvements in my technique, and this loaf kicked the crap out of last week's, so i'm a happy bunny.
and here is my bread served with a soup so good i took five minutes off being hormonal and teary to do it credit. parsnips spiced with chilli, garlic, mustard and turmeric, plus stock and cream, blended and poured over diced gruyere. it was (obviously) a nigel slater recipe from tender vol. I, and i genuinely think it is the best thing i've cooked this month, simple though it may be. made even better by the fact i served it with my amazing homemade bread. there's something so pleasing about a meal entirely made by your own hand, i have trouble understanding people who don't get satisfaction from cooking. that's not to say i don't let them get on with it, cos who am i to preach to anyone, but there's just no empathy there.
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