baking

My friend Kate helped introduce me to the world of old-world food. The daughter of two gourmands (in the food-loving sense, not in the gluttonous one), she met the quality foods in life–raw cheeses, first-press olive oil, paper-thin slices of cured meat–early and has been playing in the kitchen with them, since.

She’s spent the past years focusing on baking, specifically sourdough bread baked from locally grown, freshly milled grains. I was “blessed” enough to try a loaf or two when she was the driving force behind a kind of single origin bakery in Lompoc, California. Now Kate’s created her own venture–Leo’s Breads–in New Orleans, Louisiana.

And while I’m lucky enough to live in a place where there is no lack of out-of-sight bread, having lived in a couple bad-bread-zones these last years, I understand all too well the need to have a good-bread recipe in your back pocket.

This flat-bread recipe is it: it’s a bread that mimics the complexity of a sourdough bread without the fuss of a sourdough starter, one that uses up left-over grains and takes just a few minutes to cook in a cast-iron pan right on the stove.

Admittedly, I found the dough a bit difficult to work with (I think I added a bit more yeast than the recipe called for and things got kind of sticky), but the results were way, way better (in taste and texture) than my previous attempts at sourdough flat-bread, for example.

Thank ye Kate (& Leo) for making me feel like a baker!

Alright, so here is a recipe for what I think is a delicious and very versatile dough. I had been experimenting, trying to come up with a bread dough that would incorporate a hefty amount of cooked Louisiana corn grits (I love corn). After throwing some leftover dough in the fridge I found that it was just as good (better?) cooked on a hot skillet as a flat-bread the next day.

I think that this dough is great for the home.. It is yeasted, but the small amount of yeast, two lengthy rises and ample amounts of water create a bread with lots of flavor and without the time and labor that sourdough starter maintenance sometimes entails (I do love and make mostly naturally leavened breads). This dough is also very versatile.. The flour can be a blend of your choice (I used a blend of almost whole grain, sifted wheat and a lighter bread flour) and the cooked corn grits could be substituted for another grain or seed (oats, barley…). Just make sure to fully cook (in unsalted water) and cool your grains before adding to the dough.

Two days before you wish to eat your bread-

make your Biga:

In a container, measure 250 grams warm water (110 degrees F) and sprinkle on 1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast. Cover container and let yeast rehydrate for 10 minutes.

After 10 minutes, briefly mix up the water to make sure yeast have dissolved and add 250 grams flour. Mix the flour and water together well, until blended, somewhere between a batter and a dough. Cover. It’s best to let this mixture sit out on counter for 45-60 minutes before putting in fridge overnight (giving the yeast a head start).

cook your Grits (or other grains)

If making grits, I have found that a ratio of 4 cups water to 1 cup grits works well.

Bring water to boil, add grits and whisk vigorously. Lower to medium heat. Will have to attend and whisk periodically- sometimes they want to stick to bottom of the pot. Done in 25-40 minutes, when water has been absorbed and grits are no longer crunchy. Let cool in fridge overnight.

One day before you wish to eat your bread-

Take your Biga out of fridge to let warm a little while starting to measure and mix.

Make your final dough:

Add 3/4 teaspoon active dry yeast to 150 grams warm water (110 degrees F) water. Let hydrate for 10 minutes.

To this add 620 grams luke warm water and your 500 grams of Biga. Squeeze the Biga into water to help break up and mix together. When blended, add in 1 kg flour. Mix in flour until a dough has formed. Let rest half hour.

After half hour, sprinkle 27 grams of salt on top of dough and squeeze/fold in. After salt is blended add 240 grams of your cooked and cooled grains (grits? Oats?). Squeeze/fold in until well blended.

Let this dough rest on a warm counter, covered, for about 3 hours, folding or giving a light+ quick knead every hour. Dough should become fairly active after three hours, bubbling and developing strength and character over this few hour fermentation. After 3 hours place in fridge overnight.

Bake day-

Break off a few pieces of dough from container in fridge. Let pieces warm on floured cutting board while heating a cast iron skillet on stove. Get skillet quite hot, and no need to grease it. Once skillet is ready, gently stretch each flatbread (thick or thin is up to you) and place onto ungreased skillet. Will bubble as it cooks. Once skillet side is golden brown, flip to cook other side. These will cook quite quickly, depending on size and thickness, anywhere from 2-5 minutes. I wonder if this would be a good pizza dough, I bet it would be… Instead top and bake in a hot oven? I wonder…(Lauren’s Note: We drizzled the bread with olive-oil, sprinkled with z’aatar and added olives and sun-dried tomatoes. Not quite a pizza, but close and delicious!)

Text and recipe by Kate P. Heller of Leo’s Breads. Contact her here for more information.

I like baking, but baking doesn’t always like me. Soups like me, braised meats love me, roasted veggies and I would probably be engaged if I wasn’t already taken, but I just feel like breads and pastries don’t really get me. The me that prefers dashes and pinches to quantifiable units of measurement. The me that hasn’t faithfully followed a recipe since 2008. The me that is too laid-back (read: lazy) to ensure that I am adding exactly 1 and 1/4 cups of flour, to knead for exactly 15 (15!) minutes, to bake for no more and no less than 45 minutes at exactly 375 degrees F without opening the oven ever, not even once, just to check.

That’s not to say that baking and I haven’t had our moments. There were those two pumpkins pies for Thanksgiving in Oakland, that spelt chocolate birthday cake with raw-milk whipped-cream, those cardamom buns made outside of Stockholm (with a lot of help from a Swede).

Oh, and there have always been crumbles. That cherry crumble with Kasia and Annabel last July, the first blueberry crumble I ever made many Augusts ago in Maine, and this apple and pear crumble I’ve been making almost every couple of weeks this season.

Crumble gets me. In fact, I think it’s safe to say, crumble gets all of us. Unlike its other baked counterparts (I’m looking at you, pie), crumble is as unfussy, as forgiving as the most simple desserts–fresh strawberries and cream, raw-milk-yogurt and honey–and as satisfying. All you need are rolled oats, some butter, something sweet (honey, sugar, maple syrup), whatever fruit you have on hand, and an oven. You don’t even really need a plate.

Gleaning from Gleaning

A few weeks ago, while on a walk a bit outside of Geneva, L & I came across an apple field. The apple season had ended–the farmers had finished picking weeks ago–, but, still, many red and green delights hung from the branches. In Switzerland, as in much of Europe, there is a tradition of gleaning (See: Agnes Varda’s film Les glaneurs et la glaneuse, or this painting by Jean Francois Millet.), or free-range for all peoples on the odds & ends of a harvest. Historically, gleaning belonged to the peasant class, and was protected as their right to collect what was unwanted. A lot has changed since peasant-times, but gleaning remains a protected practice for those still wanting to make use of the unwanted, the “waste”. Those with a limited budget and a bit of free time. Those wishing to connect to the source of their food. And for those crumble-lovers on a Sunday stroll.

There are communities of dedicated gleaners here, folks who know the window for gleaning each local crop. I met one particularly spirited gleaner, or shall I say glaneuse, at our neighborhood farmer’s market. In her late 70s and towering over a card-table with few contents–a couple bags of dried herbs, five jam jars of various sizes and hues, a half-empty (half-full?) paper bag of some sad-looking quinces–this glaneuse, let’s call her Diana (Diana wants nothing to do with the internet, preferring to remain fully in the corporeal world), had produced all her table’s contents through gleaning. In fact, you could even say that she gleaned her place into the farmer’s market, an unofficial vendor of earthly delights who often disappears in the blink of an eye, or at the sight of the market patrol.

I had hopes to meet with Diana to find out more about her life, to learn the secret of her seabuckthorn jam, but the day we were supposed to meet (at an undisclosed location where she would build a fire for roasting chestnuts, if we brought the chestnuts) was too windy for fires and, well, for her, that was that.

I think the real reason baking and I don’t jive is because I’m often seeking immediate results, instant gratification. Mind you, this gratification is usually something like learning the best place to forage for Linden leaves, or being able to knit the perfect pair of socks on my first attempt, but it’s still the same emphasis on results, on future good as opposed to present process. I’m new to Switzerland, and it’s okay for me to get to know this place bit by bit, bird by bird, one gleaned apple, like one loaf of bread, one kind of pie, at a time.

Apple Pear Crumble

You don't really need to measure anything here. Crumble is one of those things, like pancakes, that once you get down the basic ratio, it's okay to eye it. If I have less butter, I use less butter. If I don't have butter, I use ghee. Experiment! And post your findings here.

Ingredients

Around 100grams or 1 stick of grass-fed butter, room temperature
Around 1/2 cup of Rapadura sugar
Around 1 cup rolled oats
Pinch salt
Two handfuls of small, tart apples, sliced thinly
Two sweet & soft pears, like Comice, sliced thinly

Directions

Heat oven to 350F. Mix butter and sugar together in a bowl and cream with a fork. This usually takes a few minutes. Add rolled oats and salt and mix well.
Line a pie plate, a cast-iron skillet, or a big sheet of tinfoil with the apples and pears, layering them alternately (one layer of apples, one of pears). The pears should be far juicer than the apples and will give them some moisture. You could grate some cinnamon over the fruit, or squeeze a bit of lemon, or add nothing at all.
Pour crumble mixture on top of fruits. Bake for 45 minutes, until crumble is golden brown.

Crumble will keep for 4 days if sealed.

Any other gleaners out there?

The Soaked Bean

Seeking Nourishment, Finding Traditions

Collaboration Celebration #3: Kate & Leo’s Flat-bread

Let’s Get Ready to (Apple/Pear) Crumble