patience

so last time i left off talking about long term bread projects and an experience which has left me looking for a sort of yeasted holy grail, right? right. i think before i get fully into the swing of discussing said project, i should let you in on a little secret...

i am not a patient person. not in the slightest. i have never really had to be. i'm still in my early twenties, and have only very recently moved out of that phase of life where life feels as though it never slows down long enough for you to catch your breath; what with all the new opportunities and lifestyle changes that being in higher education flings at you every minute. i have never had to wait for anything simply because i've never had the time to do any waiting, always being busy with something or other. but since i quit education last year, the pace of life has changed considerably. my life's progression no longer relies upon me, my books, and how fast i can type. there are other people in the mix. there is money in the mix. i can no longer fast track myself simply by working longer hours; i have to wait for things. and it's something that, although previously i would have said i was good at, is slowly driving me round the bend. consequently, in my long-standing tradition of setting myself projects over the summer so as not to go crazy in the longer days, this summer's projects all have one thing in common. they require me to be, or at least learn to be, patient.

in cooking terms, this means a relatively hands-off project, something that requires regular maintenance but not too much faffing. given that i had already previously decided that 2011 would be the year of mastering bread baking; the idea of making and endeavouring t kep a sourdough starter seemed like a very good place to start on Operation Patience. so i did what i do best, and spent at least a week reading anything i could get my hands on regarding wild yeasts (and yes, you did read that right; i deviated from my beloved river cottage bread handbook).

it has been a week since i started my sourdough adventure; and while we're not yet at the stage where it's on an even keel enough to bake with, i feel i can now confidently start telling you the hows, whys, and whats of the process. given that i consulted several sources, this is merely the way i have gone about things, so i will issue here the proviso that i am by no means anywhere near the expert level. the title that best befits me is probably enthusiastic amateur; and therefore when i tell you about processes and techniques, bear in mind that this is as much about me learning as it is about me teaching in any way. i couldn't think of anything worse than coming across as a patronizing know-it-all, when it's patently obvious i am far from 'knowing it all' about a practice that has been going on worldwide for thousands of years.

anyway, enough wih the bullshit, and onto the bread.

the basics

okay, so, sourdough is basically bread made with wild yeasts. i guess we're all familiar with the idea that bread = flour + water + yeasts in some combination. and usually the yeasts will be added in some external form, fresh, or dried, right? well, sourdough uses naturally occuring yeasts in the air. yep, you heard me, there are yeasts in the air. anyone who has ever had the pleasure of working in the licenced trade in anything other than a casual pour-a-few-pints-on-a-saturday capacity will already know this. it's the reason you keep beer cellars scrupulously clean; otherwise you end up with all kinds of homes for these wild yeasts to come and hang out and wreak fermentation havoc on your beer. so with sourdough you have to create a good home for wild yeasts to come and hang out and anaerobically respirate themselves silly. which is easy. you just need warmth, moisture, and a starch that can be broken down into a sugar. this home is your starter, a batter of flour and water in which you establish a yeast fermentation, and then 'feed' fresh flour in order to maintain it. you use ladlefuls of this starter, in combination with flour and water, to bake with. it couldn't be simpler. oh, and why is it called sourdough? mostly cos this wild fermentation and feeding process creates and introduces various bacteria, including lactic acid, to the starter, which lend the dough a more complex, pleasingly sour taste.

so now we know about sourdough. here is how i have gone about mine:

day one:

so, day one is, obviously, where you begin with your starter. it is advised to start off with a wholegrain flour. i chose wholegrain wheat flour for mine, although you can use rye, spelt, whatever. this is just because although possible, it takes white flours longer to reach ferment. and while i'm learning patience here, i have my limits. i started with 150g of wholewheat flour, and 250ml of warm water, and whisked them together into a thick batter (you have to be quite vigorous with your whisking, you want air pockets in the batter. i put my starter into a large, airtight container (i used a 2l tupperware box). it has to be large to allow room for frothing, and because you will be adding more to this base you have created. this is what my mixture looked like before i sealed the container:

as you can see, nothing special. the bubbles that are there are just from the whisking. i put my container into the airing cupboard, so as to give it warmth begin it's fermentation process.

day two

on day 2, i pulled out my sourdough and it looked like this:

you can see small bubbles from fermentation beginning, although the starter has only had itself to feed on so far. it smelled different, as well. rather than the slightly gluey smell of just flour and water, the dough smelled vinegary, a kind of sour-sweet smell. day two was time for the first feeding, so in went 150g flour and about 200-250ml of warm water, whisked vigorously. on with the lid, and back in the airing cupboard (i feel at this moment i should point out that the airing cupboard in this house is in my little brother's room, and as a result i took great risk to my health going in there to stow this. the things i do for my art, honestly)

day three

okay guys, this is where the difference starts to get radical. i pulled out my sourdough on day three, and this is what i got:

vigorous fermentation, as you can see. it also smelled much stronger. the only way i can describe the smell, and this may not be any help to those of you who haven't worked in commercial kitchens, is the way a large quantity of either salad cream of marie rose sauce smells. a combination of sugar and vinegar, that smells overly sickly with an edge. it's not a displeasing smell, but it certainly catches your nose and doesn't let go. right, so day three is where you begin to stabilize your starter, so you get rid of half of it, whisk in another 150g flour, and 200-250ml water, put the lid back on, but this time, keep it at room temperature.

day 4

on day four, as we can see, the fermentation has begun to stabilize itself somewhat:

it's still fairly vigorous, but the bubbles are more uniform. the smell mellowed slightly, too, gaining a bit more depth and a bit less 'bite', as it were. you repeat the process of getting rid of half of it, and adding 150g flour and 200-250ml water, from now on this becomes the regular feeding pattern for your starter. obviously once your starter is stabilized in its activity, rather than discard the excess, you start to bake with it, for those who are starting to think this is a wasteful process. again, you just put the lid on, and leave it at room temperature.

day 5

so, on day five i was greeted with:

as you can see, it is beginning, almost, to look like a slice of bread or cake in cross section. the smell gained further complexity and began to take on an almost beery note. i continued on with the established feeding pattern, and will continue to do so.

okay, so, that is a sourdough starter, ladies and gentlemen. literally the easiest thing to do, unless you're as impatient and curiosity driven as i am. i am still in the patience stage, as weekends are a notoriously busy time for me at work, leaving me no time for slow rise baking. so i am continuing the feeding programme and will hopefully be making my first sourdough loaves on tuesday. even with the waiting, this is an interesting project for me. i like the idea of sourdough, not least because it will encourage me to bake near-daily, thus giving me a calm kitchen routine to distract me from all the major things i have to wait for. but there is also the from-scratch element of it; the idea that due to differences in temperature and atmosphere, no two sourdough starters will ever be the same, and neither will the resulting bread. i like the long term nature of it, too. my friend shane told me of the pleasure he had, working in a commercial kitchen, with a starter that was over twenty years old. i like the idea of a piece of cooking heritage to take through life with me. especially if i can one day tell the story of it being something that taught me patience at a time i was feeling particulaly uneasy about waiting around for formalities. next time you can expect a report from me on the results of baking with my creation, and i hope you're looking forward to it as much as i am.

oh, and p.s.

you didn't seriously think i wouldn't sneak in a little quick action baking did you? if you're craving a little quick fix while all this goes on, it's worth making a focaccia or two to satisfy your activity cravings. this is mine:

i made two of these, with black and green olives and rosemary from the garden. one of them got traded with my neighbours for six runner bean plants. i feel like i got the better end of that deal. making focaccia may even have encouraged me to get rid of my old oil-scorched silicone baking trays in favour of some new ones, as, as you can see from the picture, mine have been through four years of war now and are starting to look a little fire-eaten.