Bread: Misinformation Alert!

You have been denied mission critical, need to know, information.  The recipe post had a flaw!

I screwed up royally Some idiot (who is totally not me) typed the wrong temperature for the oven.  The mistake has been rectified and those responsible have been executed.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread VIII: Tips

Some tips about cooking:

  • A grain mill to grind wheat into flour seems weird but if you can hack the price it’ll make your food taste better.
  • It takes X minutes to prepare a four loaf / four pound dough batch. It takes much less than 2X to prepare two batches. I make eight loaves at a time and it’s only a little more work. Get what I’m hinting at?
  • If you are really careful about cleaning you’ll get it done in a fraction of the time a less organized person would take.
  • Leave the kitchen in better shape than you found it. Just do it.
  • You don’t need many ingredients or utensils but keep them segregated from the general kitchen population or you’ll waste time looking for things.
  • If one batch of bread dough sits around an extra half hour because the oven is full with a different batch, it doesn’t seem to matter.
  • According to the book, the bread dough can sit in the fridge for several days. I haven’t tested it. I make dough one day, bake it the next, and forget it the rest of the week.

Tips about the bread:

  • Your bread will have the size and shape of an actual loaf of bread. This is how bread has looked for thousands of years. Naturally it’s alien to folks who think “Wonderbread” is “tasty”. Get used to weird looks when your peanut butter sandwich is narrow.
  • Store excess bread in the freezer. Stuff a loaf in a plastic bag and jam it in the freezer as soon as it’s cool (not earlier). It seems to taste perfect when thawed out.
  • Don’t try to cut a frozen loaf…let it thaw. Don’t ask how I know this.
  • This bread will go stale faster than the crap you buy at a store. After about the third day it’s time to throw it to the chickens. (Frozen bread excepted.)

Last few notes:

  • Bread made this way is rediculosly cheap. Every loaf you or your family consumes is money in the bank.
  • I’m not a doctor but I’m convinced this is just about the healthiest food this side of things I shoot with a rifle.
  • If low carb diet nuts give you crap about this bread give ‘em a good smack. Yes, it’s carbs but it is pretty much all simple stuff and in a world full of Doritos and PopRocks nobody should get crap about homemade wheat bread.
  • If any hippies visit your house tell them the bread was bought at great expense from Laotian Monks. They’ll never believe you made it yourself.
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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread VII: Paydirt

The title of the book that is my bread bible is called “Bread In Five Minutes A Day”. This is because you can (in theory) use the goop you’ve stored in your fridge to form a bread loaf in under five minutes. While technically true it’s a lot like calling a reduction in the projected rate of spending a “tax cut”. That shit won’t fly on my blog!

I differ from the basic plan by baking all of the dough in one shot. Why? Because I’ve got a damn day job and can’t sit on my ass baby sitting an oven every day. Harrumph!

Today’s baking day. Go to the kitchen table that was spotless yesterday and use a pitchfork to heave everyone’s crap off of it again. How does clutter grow so fast; it’s like kudzu on crack! Wipe down the table and get out your bucket of dough out of the fridge.

Chilling it overnight (or longer) has made it stiffer and easier to handle. Also the dough (which has never been kneaded has a strange structure that looks like wood cellulose that’s been microwaved on Jupiter. Analogies fail me…just go with it.

You’re going to need some more equipment:

  • A flat thing (to put the dough on while not baking).
  • A flat scoopy thing (to maneuver the dough into the oven).
  • A basting brush.
  • Cornmeal (to keep the dough from sticking to the flat thing.)
  • A bread knife (for installing expansion joints).
  • Poppy seeds (for bragging rights and to screw up drug tests).
  • Some flour.
  • Scissors.

Get a flat surfaced object, like a cookie sheet, pizza peel, or an Barry Manilow LP record and sprinkle cornmeal on it. Cornmeal is cheap, don’t scrimp. The cornmeal isn’t really part of the food, it’s there to keep the dough from sticking. (For those of you who don’t know what an LP or 33 RPM record happens to be, Google “life before iPods took over the universe”; you’ll be fascinated.)

Now put some flour on your hands, this is to keep the dough from sticking to your hands. Plunge one hand into the bowl and come up with a grapefruit sized glob of the dough. It’ll stretch and won’t break free from the mother glob. You’re aiming for ¼ of the total volume in the bucket. Cut it off with the shears.

What happens next is hard to describe. Use your hands (coated with flour) to grab the bottom of the glob and wrap it over the top. You’re trying to make a “smoothish” surfaced bread glob that’s without resorting to a “patting motion” like you’d use when making a snowball. Make it roughly football shaped and don’t try for perfection. I’m not sure of the exact biology here but the gluten is elastic and wants to stretch “around” the loaf you’re forming but it doesn’t like being separated and squished back in. (That’s my understanding…for all I know it’s caused by magic refrigerator Smurfs.) Don’t over think it. You’ll know when you’ve done it right. Allocate 30 seconds or less of screwing around and if you haven’t made the shape you want just give up and go with what you’ve got. You’ve almost certainly made something good enough.

Do the same thing three more times. You should have four loaves. You should have done it in a couple of minutes. They look roughly like flattish dinosaur eggs to me. If they look like that to you…everything’s shiny.

Wash your bread bucket and put it in the strainer. Crack a beer. Repeat.

The loaves will rise slightly. As far as I can tell it’s not a big deal how much they rise. Focus on the beer. You have very little to do for 90 minutes. Enjoy it.

Warning: you do not have enough time to change the oil in the car, reshingle the roof, or split wood. Park your ass and relax. See? Baking is fun!

After 60 minutes start preheating the oven. 450 degrees. Shove the baking stone in there. Check that you’ve got a broiler pan to add water for steam but don’t add water yet.

At 90 minutes it’s show time!

Just before show time you’ve got to do a few minor things. First use a basting brush to coat the outside of each loaf with water. Don’t screw with the underside…just the top.

Then sprinkle poppy seeds on it. The purpose of this is to make it look awesome and taste as good as it looks. You don’t need poppy seeds but if you don’t add them it’s like ripping the supercharger off a racecar’s engine. I’ve tried sesame seeds, sunflower seeds, etc… they’re all sub-optimal. In the end poppy seeds are best and if I leave them out I regret it.

The last task is to cut a few slashes in the top of the bread. I call these expansion joints. They actually serve that purpose…they also make the bread look cool. Do this after the poppy seeds are on for maximum coolness of appearance.

At 90 minutes (give or take…there’s no rush now) it’s oven time. Shove the loaves onto the baking stone one at a time. They’ll expand slightly and might merge into each other. It won’t ruin the bread any more than the same effect when your pancakes run together. At the last minute dump a cup of warm water in the baking pan (to make steam) and quickly close the door.

Do nothing for a half hour. Don’t sweat it…the bread knows what to do. it should smell delicious by now.

At a half hour take the loaves out and put them on a cooling rack (the cooling rack is probably optional). Household members will come out of the woodwork as they smell the bread. It’s easier to cut after a few minutes of cooling.

If your bread tastes like mine you’ll have the first loaf half gone within fifteen minutes. All it’ll need is butter. (Margarine sucks…invest in butter.) Homemade jelly will turn the dial to eleven.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread VI: Mixin’ Stuff

You’re finally ready to make some bread! Make some coffee first. Why? Because it’s coffee. You can’t have beer until the coffee phase is over. I’ll explain later.

Kick everyone out of the kitchen and bask in the glory of what you have accomplished; a clean kitchen, a clean workspace, all your measuring cups and stuff ready, all your ingredients at hand… you may never see this level of organization again. Sip your coffee. Smile.

Now a word about dry ingredients like flour. They’re essentially a powder. They’re easy to handle when they’re dry but become a hassle to clean up when wet and a stone cold misery they get wet and are allowed to dry. Use physics to help things stay clean. Keep your powder dry!

This is why you can drink hot coffee but not cold beer. No condensate during dry materials mode!

Measure 5 1/2 cups of whole wheat flour into the bucket. (You know the recipe because you bought the book right?)  Measure each cup carefully. Scoop up a heap with your measuring cup, use a butter knife to carefully push all the excess off the cup, and dump it into the bucket. Do it carefully. You may be a creative genius. Possibly you like to cook. Possibly you like to apply your creativity to the measurement of flour. Possibly you’re an idiot. Shut up and stick with the recipe.

Inevitably you’ll be interrupted while counting cups. If you’re looking at the bucket wondering if you’ve added four or five cups don’t leave it to chance. Shoo whomever interrupted you out of the kitchen (especially if it’s the damn cat). Then dump the flour and do it again. The goal here is to not bake a brick.

Now comes the white (or “evil”) flour. Measure 2 cups into the same bucket.  (If you didn’t buy the book I’m gonna’ feel guilty.)

Add 1 tablespoon salt.  (As instructed by the book.)

Add 1/4 cup gluten flour.  (Have I mentioned that I’m terrified of lawyers?  This is “fair  use” as far as I can tell but you should buy the book anyway.)

Add 1 1/2 tablespoons yeast.  (Lawyers are evil.  The book is good.)

Be extra special uptight about the measurements. Have you been measuring as if you were handling a mix of uranium and smokeless powder? Good. Have you been measuring like an incompetent slob? If so you suck and you deserve the disaster you’re about to bake.
Incidentally, you can measure as if you were defusing a bomb and still get the job done in less than ten minutes.

(Throughout the entire bread manufacturing process the most time consuming part is cleaning the kitchen. Regardless of the mess you start with you should end with a clean workspace.)

Sip more coffee. Did you add whiskey? It’s entirely acceptable to bake bread while drunk. I encourage it. Don’t spill the coffee…you’re still in ultra dry powder mode.

Now grab the whisk or a big ass spoon and mix the living shit out of the dry ingredients in your bucket. Don’t slouch. Right now everything is a powder so you can easily create a homogeneous mix. Once you add water the die is cast.

Mix like you damn well mean it. You can play Metallica while doing this. (Heavy metal seems to keep skilled cooks from showing up and messing with your manufacturing process. It also keeps the cat away.)

You do not need power tools to do the mixing. Put that idea right out of your head.

A homogenous mix of "good" and "evil" flour and a few other ingredients.

Now it’s time to switch from “dry powder mode” to “wet goo mode”. Before you pull the trigger on “goo mode”, clean up everything that’s powder dry. Wipe down the table where you spilled the flour. (Of course you spilled some flour. Don’t deny it. I know.) Then rinse (wash!) all your measuring cups and stuff. Since it’s just dry powder you should be able to wash it sparkling clean in seconds. Go ahead and feel smug about it. (Studies show that people who don’t immediately wash the cups and stuff are 86% more likely to live in their mother’s house.)

You may now switch from coffee to beer. No need to thank me; I’m here to help.

I needlessly fret about the temperature of bread water. I try for the temperature to which you’d heat a baby’s bottle. Learning the proper temperature of a baby’s bottle is an incredibly expensive proposition so you can wing it if you don’t know. I’m not sure if this recipe is temperature sensitive but some are.

Measure four cups water carefully. Hold it to the horizon, adjust for parallax, and endeavor for accuracy. At this point I think it might not be too important but do it anyway.

Pour it all in the bucket. Don’t try anything fancy like adding it a little at a time. If the bucket you choose was too small you deserve what happens next.

The flour/water mix will assume a consistency I call “zombie brain”. Grab a big ass spoon and start mixing. It’s your job to mix every molecule of the dry stuff into the wet stuff and make an utterly homogeneous mix. Any dry stuff that doesn’t get mixed in will become a clod of flour in the loaf. It’s not rocket science. You should be able to do this in five minutes or less. Don’t knead, just stir.

Most of the glob will stick to itself and form a strange texture I call “Yak flem”. Once you’ve attained “Yak flem”there are no stray pockets of unmixed flour. You’ll know when you’re done.

Yak flem; ready to be ignored for a couple of hours.

Quit for the day. Drink more beer. Wash the one spoon that’s still dirty, wipe down the table again, and put away the water measuring cup. You should have about four pounds of “Yak flem” in a food grade bucket sitting on a spotless table.

Trust me on this, if you were efficient you did this all in 15 minutes or so and still had plenty of time to drink beer. Most people spend more time looking for their measuring cups and cleaning the kitchen than they’ll ever spend actually “cooking”.

Loosely cover the bucket (not tight…there’s fermentation going on). Loudly announce to everyone in the household that “phase one of the bread project is proceeding according to plan and that you’re winning the war against bread hegemony”. (This means nothing but it’s fun to say.) Then go split some wood.

Two hours later the bread mix will have risen into a material that appears to be the love child of a marshmallow and a Nerf football. The timing isn’t important. At least two hours is probably close enough. All you needed to do was let it rise a while at room temperature before sticking it in the fridge. Ideally the beer you’ve drank will have freed just the right amount of space in the fridge.

Two hours later; it has ballooned like the national debt.

Don’t mess with it, knead it, or discuss politics with it. Just shove it in the fridge and ignore it until tomorrow. After several hours in the fridge the concoction will have reduces in volume.

The volume reduces considerably but never as low as it's initial state. A lot like a spike in gasoline prices.

In the meantime the formerly empty kitchen table is already collecting stuff…how does that happen?

Tomorrow is D-day. Good luck.

A.C.

P.S.  I sincerely think this article is OK under fair use but I’m going to cower under my table until everyone buys the book.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread V: Flour

My bread books have many chapters about flour. Cookbooks bore me. I look at the pictures and ignore the words because who in their right mind wants to read about cooking? Except, of course, my blog which is riveting dammit!

Flour is the victim of historic oddities which have made something simple into something complex. I blame the whole thing on Wonder Bread and early 20th century urbanisation. (I told you it was boring!)

Here’s what you really need to know about flour:

  1. For our purposes flour comes in two varieties; white (or “evil”) and 100% whole wheat (or “good”).
  2. Like the force; “good” (wheat flour) and “evil” (white flour) must be kept in balance. Cooking entirely with wheat flour is a hassle. You’ll need gluten and other stuff. It’ll take more cooking skill. Possibly even a bit of luck. I don’t do luck! (Note: If you’re thinking of commenting about how you always use only whole wheat just like grandma did in 1820 and you never have a bad loaf…buzz off.) Cooking entirely with white flour is much easier but it will lead your soul to the dark side. First it’s dull boring tasteless bread and then it’s Twinkies and Mountain Dew. Soon you’ll give up on homemade foods! You’ll wind up freebasing pop rocks and turning tricks to buy a Big Mac. Heed my warning; the best breads for a homesteader type with a day job and a modest level of baking skill have some of both sides. Go for a mix of white and wheat flours…it’s the middle path that leads to enlightenment.
  3. “Evil” (white) flour must be bought at the grocery store. There are a zillion different brands which annoy me equally. This is because white flour has been designed specifically for purposes other than making food taste awesome. White flour is basically ground wheat with everything sucked out of it until it’s a listless sad lonely failure that does nothing but sit around and watch TV. Then various unnatural things are done to it to make it super extra ultra mega white which is probably bad for it’s self-esteem and made it drop out of community college and quit it’s job. Then some “good” stuff is pumped back into it (“enriched”) which is like adding vitamins to sawdust. (The smart thing to do would have been to leave the good stuff alone in the first place but that would have affected it’s unnaturally long shelf life.)
  4. Special “bread flour” has additional voodoo that isn’t necessary to the recipe I’m discussing. It might be wise to avoid it unless your recipe calls for it.
  5. Within reason, try to buy fresher flour. In my limited experience, corporate behemoth brands haven’t made as good bread. I’m not sure precisely why.
  6. White (“evil”) flour, despite my complaints, has several advantages; it’s cheap, it’s incredibly uniform, and it lasts a long time. All are handy traits which might apply to a spark plug as well as a food component.
  7. White (“evil”) flour has an impressive shelf life but it doesn’t last forever. When it gets old, chuck it. If you have doubts, chuck it. If you’re bored and need something to do, chuck it. Don’t jeopardize future bread glory to save on cheap white flour. In case you’re wondering, chickens won’t eat stale leftover flour. Scary eh?
  8. “Good” (wheat) flour at the store usually has descriptors on the front of the package. Like a politician’s speech, most of the words are meaningless drivel and you can’t trust a damn thing. The way I (in my infinite wisdom) define whole wheat flour is as follows: “put the wheat kernel in the top of a choppy machine thingy and every goddamn molecule of it had better come out the bottom in the flour”. That is the only definition of whole wheat that matters. Marketers hate me.
  9. The way I make 100% whole wheat (“good”) flour is with a grain mill. (Or as I like to call it “Thor’s hammer of wheat kernel smiting”.) Mills are expensive and it’s a little weird to buy a machine to create something a cheap as flour. So be it. Some of my readers reload ammo even though they can buy it at the store. Draw your own parallels. I bought an electric mill. I have no regrets. Grain mills (at least mine) are about as complex to operate as a toaster. Unless there’s a portal to another dimension inside the machine, grain mills make 100% whole wheat flour. Smart people can probably make white flour out of a grain mill but I’m lazy and buy the white (“evil”) stuff.
  10. Unlike white (“evil”) flour, which is a miracle of industrialized chemistry, whole wheat (“good”) flour from your mill wont last as long. Store bought wheat flour is somewhere in between; assume a pro-rated lifespan.
  11. Just for the record I’ve been milling Hard Red Spring Wheat kernels. It’s not easy to find wheat kernels and shipping will kill you. Buy in bulk. Buy in person. To get mine I drove to an “organic” wheat mill in the middle of nowhere surrounded by (you guessed it) wheat fields. A pretty lady in a full length dress who probably knows both hymnals and how to drive a combine sold it to me. It was cheap enough that I bought a two year’s supply and still forgot the price. A 50 pound bag is a whole lot of future bread. Buy extra and keep it in your car to improve traction (or go ahead and stock your bunker). Wheat, properly stored, will outlast us all. Get the idea? Store wheat kernels (or “berries”) and grind it to flour (which has a lesser shelf life) as needed. If you don’t have a mill, the pretty lady had excellent wheat and white flour for sale too…all you need to do is burn a tank of gas driving to the middle of nowhere to buy a $6 bag of flour.

At the end of all this you should have bag of “evil” flour and a couple pounds of “good” flour (either from the store or home ground from your Bert Gummer approved mill).

Secure the two flour supplies so the cat won’t knock them over and call it a day. The next article is when you finally get to make a mess.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread IV: Consumables

Remember this is Curmudgeonly advice so don’t say “you’re going shopping for groceries”. I hate shopping and consider groceries the inferior backup alternative to food which should be out running around the forest where I can gun for it. Try to spin this terrible association with grocery stores; loudly state that you’re “stockpiling ingredients” for your “bread project”. The other household members with whom I live expect this sort of thing. Your family is probably used to it from you too.

You’re going to need salt, yeast, flour, and gluten. Each of these things is so earth-shatteringly cheap that you should buy a lot of them. Why? Because they store forever (almost) and it sucks to go to grocery stores. Also you might want to make bread during the zombie apocalypse.

As far as I can tell, all salt is the same.

Lets start with salt. I was astounded to find out that salt comes in eleventy zillion varieties. Not bad for a chemical compound. I’ve tried several kinds of salt and I can’t actually taste the difference in bread. If anyone can it’s probably the placebo effect. However, even the most yuppified artisan hippie macrobiotic organic free range salt costs less than a six pack of beer so knock yourself out. The photo shows what I bought. It works. Remember, if you keep salt dry it will store for millennia and a pound is enough to bake many loaves, so don’t short change yourself. Buy plenty and keep it for your “bread project”. If you miscalculate and wind up sneaking salt from the shaker like a mouse stealing crumbs you’ve failed.

Don't buy yeast in packets.

Next comes yeast. Yeast stores for a long time but it doesn’t last forever. If the yeast in the fridge is questionable, toss it. There are ways to gather yeast from the wild. Screw that! We live in a modern era and don’t need to be fretting over exotic sourdoughs…at least not yet. Buy it. Yeast is like good leadership, it’s more important to the final product than it’s diminutive percentage suggests. Don’t buy yeast in packets. It’s the same stuff and costs more so buying it by the packet means you’re a loser. Keep yeast in the fridge. I have bought expensive yuppified gourmet yeasts but the cheap stuff in a jar seems to work better. Go figure.

This stuff keeps the bread trolls at bay.

Gluten flour is discussed at length in all of my bread books. Apparently it’s important. I’ve never stayed awake for an entire chapter on gluten so I don’t know the precise mechanics. However I’ve learned plenty through experience. Here’s what you need to know; if you’re using 100% whole wheat flour (as opposed to the white stuff) you’ll need some of this magic gluten. If you don’t add it, the bread trolls get mad and turn your loaf into a brick. I’ve tried many variants of 100% wheat recipes and I’ll tell ya’ now that gluten is serious big time key important. Skip it and you’ll rue your foolishness. Gluten stores a long time but not forever. If it’s stale…chuck it. A pound or two of the stuff goes a long way.

Now comes the material that makes 99% of your bread; flour. Flour is important and subject to far too much bullshit misinformation. Thus I’ll cover flour in my next article.

Incidentally you’ll also need water.
Unless you live in Chernobyl just use what comes out of the tap. I suppose it could theoretically affect the bread’s flavor but I haven’t noticed anything. Here’s the test for water quality. Drink some. If you don’t die, it’s fine for the yeast in the bread.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread III: Equipment

The day has dawned and your freshly cleaned kitchen awaits. No it doesn’t. It has been trashed!

Luckily you saw this coming. Consult the deer cam you set up last night and identify the culprit.

If the kitchen was trashed by raccoons you can legally shoot them. Was it trashed by your kids? Are they minors or unemployed young adult louts? Technically you’re not allowed to shoot them but they definitely have it coming.  If they’re over 20 it’s possible that jury nullification will exonerate you. If you did it yourself…you deserve your fate. No more bacon for you!

Now go buy the implements you’ll need. Your kitchen almost certainly already has everything you need but buy new stuff anyway. You’re a man, you’ve got sixteen dozen socket sets, do you really need encouragement to do the same for your cooking endeavors?

Get a set of measuring cups and measuring spoons. It’s my theory that metal cups are better than plastic. There is no reason why this should be true but isn’t metal always more awesome? Don’t buy any “wonder devices” that measure multiple units. Don’t buy cups any bigger than 1 cup (too much volume is bad for measuring flour). Adjustable wrenches are inferior and so are adjustable measuring spoons. Cups and spoons will probably cost less than $10. A garage sale is a perfectly good place to shop.

Get a liquid measuring cup with 4 cup capacity. Liquid measuring cups are the things that look like you can drink out of them. They’re made of heat resistant glass. Yes, you can drink out of them…but don’t. Use the glasses that you just washed…duh. You can use a graduated cylinder if you happen to be a rogue chemist.

You’ll need a pastry brush. It looks like a cheap paintbrush. Do not try to use a paintbrush. I can’t believe I had to actually type that. They’re cheap. Buy two.

You’ll need a whisk and a big ass spoon. Nothing special but they’re part of the process.

Don’t get anything metric unless you live in France. If you live in France you should already know how to make bread. Duh.

Don’t let these objects commingle with the rest of the measuring devices in the kitchen. These are yours. These are for your full assault on the bread monopoly that’s keeping it’s boot heel on our collective neck. Like weaponry, your bread tools are now mission critical implements which should be properly stored where you and only you can access them.

This is most of what you'll need. If you let it mix with the general kitchen riff raff you'll add 2 hours labor to every bread batch. This is because magic pixies sneak in at night and make your stuff dirty and personally hide it in nooks and crannies you'd never think to look. (I base this on empirical observation.) Moral? Keep your shit organized and separate...even if this means a secret cache in the nearby forest.

Here’s where things get hairy. You need a few specialized items. You may have to venture into a mall to get them. Doesn’t that suck? I hate malls! Slam a few shots of liquor if needed. It’s perfectly reasonable to order these things on-line or beg your wife to get them on your behalf.

You will need a baking stone. A baking stone is a device that looks suspiciously like an overpriced flat brick. The bread is baked right on the stone so I don’t think a brick will work. If you try it and it works I want to know. The baking stone serves as a thermal mass that will regulate the heat of your oven. I believe the root cause of this are ovens made of cheap Chinese steel instead of the 500 pound behemoth that is the way an oven should be constructed. The baking stone probably does other stuff that is terribly important but I skipped that part of the book. Just get one.

We’ve owned two of them. One cost $30 and the other cost $10. In my eyes $30 is not cheap. Life is cruel that way. You are allowed to borrow this device from your wife but if she doesn’t approve just go out and buy the most expensive damn one you can find. Why not? It’s a tool right? Do you want the bread companies to win? I thought so.

You should seek a rectangular baking stone. I don’t have a rectangular baking stone because I haven’t found such a thing for sale. Apparently I live in the heathen frontier of Twinkie eaters and frozen pizza. Who knew? I presume my wife’s circular baking stone was meant for making pizza (though I can’t recall ever seeing a pizza on it). The circular shape causes minor hassles when I try to cram too much bread on it. I originally wrote that a baking stone should last forever but during the lag time of editing this article the stone broke for no apparent reason. This is why editing sucks and you should just post whatever fool thing comes into your head.

This is not a pizza peel. It's a big honkin' spatula from my BBQ grill. It 'aint elegant but it does the job.

The book I’m using suggests a pizza peel. A pizza peel is a wooden thing that looks like a canoe paddle. All the expensive pizza places make a show of using this device to shove pizza into their really awesome wood fired brick oven. I don’t have a pizza peel. I can’t find one for sale. I’ve been using a big spatula from my BBQ. It works OK. I’m considering attacking a small canoe paddle with a belt sander and making my own. (If this works I’ll tell you.)

You’ll need a special bucket. Actually you don’t need one but you’ll be happy you bought one. All the cool kids have them. If you don’t get new ones just for your bread you’ll waste hours looking around for the kitchen for the perfect piece of Tupperwear and then find out that your wife doesn’t want a Neanderthal like you using it because that piece of Tupperwear is totally different than the other pieces of Tupperwear. Don’t try to understand…just go with it.

My wife, who is a genius, kindly bought me a set of two 6 quart Cambro round food storage containers. They’re well built and work just right. I don’t get a dime if you buy them so don’t chalk me up as a corporate shill. If you need to justify the expense, use a sharpie to write the word “tactical” on the lid and it’ll seem like a better deal. I have no idea why this works but trust me, it does.

The next post will cover ingredients. Don’t fret, most of the stuff you’ll buy lasts for a long time. One shopping trip should cover several dozen loaves of bread. (Also, it’s cheap!)

A.C.

Update 1: I have managed to break two baking stones.  Both snapped while I was in a different room and not touching them.  This pisses me off.  Apparently a baking stone can be broken thought thermal expansion and contraction…which makes as much sense as the first generation of iPhones being really good at everything but telephone calls.  When I have a solution to the baking stone conundrum I’ll post it.

Update 2: I ordered a pizza peel from the Internet, it was reasonably cheap.

Now that I own this I feel like one of those food snobs that can pronounce "arugula". Yes, it is demonstrably superior to a monster spatula.

Many reviews of many different brands of pizza peel warned that the wood might crack (delaminate). They were correct; mine arrived cracked. It works fine despite the crack.

2012 marks the era when society can make an iPod disposably cheap but can't produce a flat chunk of wood.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread II: Workspace

Any project of merit requires a good workspace. For example; your success fixing a car will be related to your garage (though I have empirically demonstrated that a good garage is necessary but not sufficient to produce a repaired tractor).

You cannot bake a good bread without a good workspace. Don’t try.

Here’s what you do. Clean off the kitchen table. All of it. No bullshit. Don’t leave the pile of bills that always resides on on end. Don’t leave the kid’s Legos and undone homework in your way. Remove the doily that inexplicably sits in the center and take the opportunity to dispose of the ridiculous scented candle that sits on the doily. (Toss it in the trash and blame the cat.)

Now make some bacon. Why? Because it’s bacon. Do you need a reason to enjoy bacon? If so, why are you reading this blog?

When in doubt, make bacon.

There is a second purpose to this exercise (though bacon alone should be sufficient). This activity will familiarize the average male with the location and functioning of the oven. That’s the metal box that makes food and which is not the microwave.

Sit at your clean table eating bacon and ponder the following:

1.What utensils did I use to make this bacon?
2.What is the condition of the kitchen?

Lets address #1 first. If you used the microwave for the bacon you cannot be saved. Sorry but you’re doomed. For the rest of us, bacon requires a pan, a fork, and a plate. If you used more than one pan for the bacon you’re the kind of dipshit that’ll trash the whole kitchen to make a loaf of bread. You’re inefficient and stupid. Either resolve to make bread in the most efficient manner possible or take up another hobby which won’t annoy other members of the household; possibly interpretive dance or politics. If you’re eating the bacon out of the pan…you’re going to be a huge success.

Now lets’ address #2. Is the kitchen clean and sparkling?

Really? It is? Wow! Did you do that? I didn’t think so! Did your wife do it? Ah ha! Does she maintain the kitchen in a pristine and spotless condition? If so, it’s time to rethink your objectives. Drive to the nearest jewelry store and pick up a nice diamond necklace. Then set it down and pick up one that costs 10% more. Repeat. Do it again you cheap bastard! Now buy it and deliver it with a smile for a clean kitchen is akin to God. Solemnly promise that you’ll stay out of her clean and beautiful kitchen. Then go out and buy a deer camp, fishing hut, or RV. Do your cooking there.

Of course the previous paragraph didn’t apply to your house did it? Your kitchen is heaped with unwashed forks and the trash bin is overflowing. Don’t lie to me; I know the truth. Everyone’s kitchen is trashed. Aren’t you glad you’ve saved the cost of a diamond?

After you’ve finished your bacon it’s time to begin the first task. Clean the kitchen.

Clean everything. Don’t pull bullshit like moving the crap from one area to the next. Look in the oven. Studies show that 8% of all ovens have dirty dishes in them. Modern science cannot explain this. Clean the stove top. You won’t be needing the stove top but it needs to be cleaned anyway. You slob! Then wash the dishes, including the silverware and the yucky pots that have been “soaking” for far too long. Suck it up and wash that undefined object you use to scoop spaghetti. Just do it all.

You’ve not merely cleaned the kitchen; you’ve “detailed” it.

This will take 1,483% longer than you expect. When you’re done you’ll be in no mood for cooking. No worries. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Luckily you’ll have already eaten bacon.

Your final step is to announce loudly to everyone in the building (even if it’s just the dog) that the kitchen is clean and you’re going to bake bread tomorrow and the place had better be just as clean tomorrow or there will be hell to pay. Like a declaration of war, this announcement is legally required as part of the male bread baking process.

Then, because you will be ignored, set up a deer cam to record the identity of the perpetrator when the kitchen gets trashed overnight.

On to part III.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread I: Motivation

Some folks, in what will eventually be understood as a colossal mistake, have asked for recipes and advice about baking bread. You asked for it! You’re the one who opened the cage. What comes next is all your fault, you have brought it upon yourselves, and nothing can save you now.

Also I have written this is advice for men who like to eat and maybe even kill stuff so they can eat it but who aren’t really into cooking for it’s own pleasure. Experienced cooks, macrobiotic pioneers, poets, paleos, and punk rockers had better find advice elsewhere. You’ve been warned.

The first step is to explore your motivation. Make a firm commitment to bake bread. This isn’t cooking… it’s a stand against the crumbling firmament of society. This is a line in the sand. The point where you stick your head out the window and howl at the moon.

Don’t think “I shall make a loaf of bread”…that’s too wimpy. Think manly; “I’m gonna’ bake the shit out of a loaf of bread!” Closer but not enough. Try this “Those son of a bitches at corporate bread are never going to see another damn penny of my money!” Yeah, that’s it!

A man needs to approach a project with the feeling associated with carrying the most powerful weapon in existence to the heart of evil and throwing that bastard into the volcano. It’s a war and you’re going to win! The goal here is to make bread so damn good you’ll never (or rarely) buy it again. You’re going all in on the bread front. Are you ready to rumble? Good!

Now on to part II.

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Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread 0: Class Prerequisite

Soon I’m going to launch into a multi-part series of essays that expound on recent bread baking successes at Curmudgeon compound. You were warned. There’s a prerequisite for this free lecture series / class / ramble / rant / unexpected shouting. I implore you to buy (or steal) the book I’ve recommended. Trust me…it’s worth it.

Some background: I think bread from the store is overpriced tasteless sawdust unfit for the likes of man nor beast but I don’t cook or bake…I manufacture. None of this makes me a fan of cookbooks. I’ll stock rations and maybe grill a fish when I catch one but cooking anything better than food to keep alive is above my pay grade. Food manufacture is where I’m happiest. Forget crème broule and think steak and eggs (including killing the deer and raising the chickens). Glossy cookbook recipes involve too many pans and dishes. Based on my biases I’ve muddled through several years with a few old bread machines. It worked.

Then my wife (who is probably sick of bread machine loaves) got me a book. Somehow it clicked and I’ve been churning out awesome bread. Go figure.

This is the book you need. Take it into the kitchen and trash it. (BTW: I couldn't smile that brightly if I was sitting on an arc welder...but that doesn't reflect on the recipe.)

I heartily suggest you buy Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day. Why? Because bread was invented several thousand years ago but this book was the first since Gutenberg to provide instructions that don’t annoy me. Sure there are other cook books (my wife has hundreds of ’em) but the only two I’ll ever use are as follows: the lame little pamphlet that came OEM with your bread machine and Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day for when you are ready to free yourself of the machine. Also, it’s Grandma approved and that’s important.

Specifically I’m using the recipe from page 53 through 58. That’s the “base” recipe. There are chapters and chapters of additional great ideas for people who care. I don’t. I flipped through them and decided that if someone wants to air lift such food to my house I’d love to have it but other than that the “base” does the job.

Am I really suggesting that you buy a 324 page book just to get the information on five pages? Yes. Many times I’ve bought a Chilton Manual to fix my car and only used the section relevant to replacing whatever just fell off. (Ironically I had more luck with mid-70’s rear wheel drive American rustbuckets than my much simpler older tractor. There’s probably something important in that observation…but it doesn’t involve bread.)

For the paranoid people out there; I don’t get a dime from recommending the book. I don’t know the authors and really don’t care if they live in a solid gold house or a shoebox. But you should pry open your wallets and do the deed, get creative and check it out from the library, or whatever you’ve got to do. You can just lie to me and tell me you paid even though you didn’t…how would I know? My point view is that any book that makes me look like a good cook is an investment…like a good chainsaw. More to the point, I’m going to feel guilt if the authors of the book don’t get at least some scratch from people that use it. Buy the damn book. It’s worth it.

Oh yeah…the same authors also wrote Artisan Bread In Five Minutes A Day. It’s on my shelf (did I mention that my wife likes cookbooks?). I’m sure it’s awesome and filled with really brilliant stuff. Someday I’ll read it. It works great as a coaster too. As for me I’ll pound their “base” recipe into the ground and be thankful for it.

A.C.

P.S. I realize now that they have a whole web site. I’m sure it’s exciting to someone. I slipped into a coma at the thought of it. Maybe the recipe is there somewhere.

P.S. 2. I apologize for the image on the cover. I’m sure they’re nice people and even handsome; but the zillion megawatt smiles freak me out. It’s like a televangelist on speed standing next to a Clark Kent / Labrador hybrid. I’m sure they both mean well and are just ecstatic to meet you. Still freaks me out though. I can’t smile like that. If I ever do you’ll know I’ve gone off the deep end and someone is about to get thrown into my own personal shark moat. This why I prefer repair manuals with something mellow like a drum brake assembly on the cover. Don’t panic.

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