So, I’ve finally found a rhythm that works in our home where I can keep the bread-eaters in bread. I find a satisfaction in this accomplishment that resounds in deeper tones than a usual fulfillment feeling. It’s similar to watching the pantry (and laundry room, and freezer) fill up with food from the season as security for the coming seasons. There’s nutrition. There’s life in the food that we expect to give us life. There’s love in it and sunshine in it. And lots of other things not in it.
And so I make bread. Sourdough mostly these days. (Which took so many tries over so many years to get something other than dense chewy too-sour-for-anyone-other-than-the-man-who-loves-me-so-much.) But I’ll make Challah soon, as I did as a child, to weave those feelings anew.
I have found, like with many things, that a first try is one thing. A second try is a time to play, to tweak, to let me instincts take a whirl. And I’ve been doing that with bread lately. So I’m going to start adding those tweaks here. Both for myself for repeatability. And for anyone who wants to see what happens with a recipe a first and a second (or seventh) time.
And as with most things, I am not one to fuss at or over it, but try and trust that it knows what it is doing much more than I do. So while sometimes I’ll add a step, or change a step, I also will drop entire parts of the process out and love the results.
Our latest bread, I tweaked from the beginning just a little. The original recipe is here, and likely delicious and amazing as-is: https://vanillaandbean.com/maple-oat-sourdough-sandwich-bread/
This is their photo and holy moly does that look tasty.
But again with trying to drop steps, think less, do less, and just be.
Tweak 1: I think the confidence to start off tweaking right away was the fact that I’d forgotten to feed my starter the hours-before-you-start that this and many recipes ask for. So I fed it in a giant mug, covered it with the same towel as my “soaker,” and left it for 30 minutes. This was at maybe 7pm.
Tweak 2: I only did the first stretch and fold, waited about 15 minutes, did a shake-you-thing-you-can-stretch-again-already! song and dance, and then left it in its tupperware in the oven with the light on overnight. It was late and I was tired. I honored that tired.
Tweak 3: For Step 5…I don’t have a bench scraper. So a cleaver was it. And the dough was much too wet to try any tea-towl-covering, so the same Tupperware simply went over the top like a hat. Or a turtle shell. Or a bubble cave. This was at maybe 8:30am.
Tweak 4: In Step 5 after the 1/3 fold situation, I could not parse what was going on with fluffing and tucking and such…so I just put my “football” into my greased loaf pan. I did not spritz or roll or moisten any spatulas.
Tweak 5: In Step 6…I don’t have a light enough tea towel (or maybe even an actual tea towel?) to dampen and lay on a loaf pan and have the loaf push it up AND not get stuck. So the beeswax cloth went on top until the bread almost touched it, and then I just let it rise a smidge more without a top. *gasp* I know. Rebellion. P.S. I had to leave and it wasn’t an inch above the edge of the loaf pan but I said it was done rising anyway. This was at 10:30am
Tweak 6: I wasn’t going to be home to rotate and tent after 25 minutes. I also just forgot to spritz with water and sprinkle oats. So I tented with tin foil from the start, set the timer for 40 minutes, and left him instructions that if he wanted it browner, add 5 minutes untented after the timer.
Assumed Tweak: I highly doubt he waited an hour before slicing.
We are neither of us photographers. But it has surpassed his previous favorite sandwich bread, and that’s all I need to know.
He has taken care of me in countless ways for a countable many years now. I am grateful to have another way to care for him in this literal bread labor. His body needs bread and, so long as they remains, I will make sure the bread he has is fine-tuned to his honed tastes and full of the life that his body needs.