Guide To Misadventures in Bread Baking

In the 1960’s, during the height of American Wonder Bread, Julia Child said, “How can a nation be great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?” Mass-produced packaged bread was expensive, convenient, and represented by cute cartoon commercials… it was a symbol of stability and privilege. Oh Julia, how we’ve changed. Artisan bakeries and fresh-baked bread are all the rage in America now… how many café’s do you see advertising a turkey and swiss on Sunbeam? Nope, focaccia and ciabatta are the buzzwords of today. The advent of homemade bread goes right along with organics and farm to table… but the reason I gravitate toward it has nothing to do with saving the environment.

Imagine a foot long loaf of warm, yeasty, crusty bread 2 hours out of the oven… then imagine the loaf being portioned in half by a mother, who watched in horror as the grubby fist of her 8 year old tore through the soft, chewy crumb just to feel the texture of the bread as it squished from airiness into a dense lump. That obnoxious little kid was me… and the horror of my mother had more to do with the mangling of a precious loaf than the proximity of my arm to the knife. Yes, the flavor, the smell, the impossibly crisp crust of homemade bread makes it more attractive than the plastic baggie version in the store. But the texture — the chewy, moist bite — is what makes homemade bread irresistible.

My latest culinary adventure has not really been an adventure at all — I neither am experimenting with spices or textures, nor tinkering with a cooking technique. I’m merely trying to produce an edible version of something that humans have been making for thousands of years. Somehow, my great-great grandmother was able to bake massive, puffy loaves without the benefit of commercially produced yeast, and my dough won’t rise even after a jaunt in the fancy new mixer. After years of failed attempts and piles of misshapen pseudo-loaves, I could write volumes on what to avoid while baking bread. While it may not turn you into an artisan baker, these tips will at least save you from a pitiful mistake:

Proof the Yeast
Proofing is, technically, an optional process that involves mixing yeast with warm water between 110-115 degrees Fahrenheit to activate fermentation. Yeast converts sugars in bread into carbon dioxide, creating air bubbles that lend both form and texture to bread. Dead yeast? No bread. Experienced bakers can get away with dry mixes or sourdough starters pinched from years, even generations, of loaves. But novices should stick to proofing even when using dry yeast — better to ensure your yeast is alive before investing hours into raising dense, lifeless dough.

To proof: mix 2 packages yeast with 1 tblsp sugar in a small bowl. Add 3 tblsp warm water. “Warm” as in bath water from the tap, not like recently cooled boiling water… boiling water kills yeast. Cover with plastic wrap for 30 minutes in a warm place — if the mixture is foamy and puffy, then voila — active yeast. If the mixture is still a liquid, then throw it away… trust me, it will not pop back to life in the flour, and at 30 cents a pack, it’s worth your time and sanity.

Rise Until Doubled — Not Longer
Bread rising is not a contest to create the largest dough mass. Oven-risen dough equals over-stretched gluten threads, which decrease elasticity and reduces the size of air pockets that create puffy loaves during the final step. Take a lesson from the girl who has left bread rising during entire afternoons of errands, only to return home to overgrown blobs that eventually become meager ½ inch thick loaves… double it and no more.

Do Not Touch Your Proofed Loaf
Is your foolhardy attempt at free-form bread failing, as the dough rose outward and off the baking sheet? This result is probably due to the former issue of over-rising, but do not propagate the problem by shoving the dough back onto said sheet and re-shaping. The dough will not rise again, nor will it save itself in the oven. At this point, try to not touch the growing mass, and carefully slide the baking sheet into the oven — the dough will not drip between the racks. At worst, you may need to use a spatula to remove the bread with oblong air pockets from the oven — but at least you won’t have a 4-pound dumpling to dispose.

These instructions probably won’t result in a perfect French or honey oat bread — I still haven’t figured that one out yet — but at least now, novice bakers, you will have a fighting chance at a decent loaf.

Anna Fishman
www.thesaltedlemon.blogspot.com