Recently, and perhaps because
I am now burdened with the millstone-like new year’s resolution to “update this
blog regularly”, I have become the baking equivalent of a new person at work.
I arrive on my first day at
the new office, feeling all positive and breezy (“Morning guys! Would you like
a coffee? I’ll photocopy that enormous file for you! No, of course I don’t
mind! Walking 2 miles in the rain to collect your bespoke £5 hot chocolate?
Absolutely! I love walking!") because compared to the
last shithole I worked at, this can't possibly be as bad!
Meanwhile, the existing, disenfranchised
employees all roll their eyes and patronise me. They’ve been here before but
are too polite to spoil it for me and of course they know that I'll soon realise
for myself that the job is shit and all the bosses are bastards.
But here I am, the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed dough
puncher, at the beginning of my breadmaking career! My mum, you see, is the disenfranchised
current employee because she knows that it’s
not worth the effort and she knows that you may as well just buy a loaf or use
the breadmaker. It comes out much better, so
just give up right now and admit defeat.
However, because she isn’t a
massive bitch like I would be in her situation (“STOP FUCKING AROUND AND BUY A
TIGER LOAF”, I say to my future daughter) she humours me and sits patiently,
answering my idiotic questions and demands: "I need a damp tea towel! A
clean one! Quickly! It’s time-sensitive!” and nurtures my new-found sense of
enthusiasm for something new.
Interestingly enough, the highlight of this bread was the crust and that, I think, is a huge accolade for the crust community because usually crusts are treated with nothing but contempt. They’re repeatedly slagged off, cut off and blitzed into a void to make way for their much more highly respected brothers, the breadcrumbs.
Interestingly enough, the highlight of this bread was the crust and that, I think, is a huge accolade for the crust community because usually crusts are treated with nothing but contempt. They’re repeatedly slagged off, cut off and blitzed into a void to make way for their much more highly respected brothers, the breadcrumbs.
The trick to having the best
crust in the world is a simple one. Firstly, don’t be too penny-wise by brushing
a thimble-full of milk over your dough prior to baking; instead, fork out for
an egg. You might even have a little left to make a tablespoon-full of
scrambled egg like I did!
Secondly, heat an empty
roasting tray in the oven, before putting your bread in. As soon as you do come
to put your bread in, fill the tray up with cold water and WATCH the steam
rise. Close the oven door as soon as possible. These are both tips taken from
the Great British Book of Baking but I dutifully employed them and they worked
a treat.
I have written out these
instructions for those of us who have access to a mixing machine and dough hook
(thanks mum!). I would have written the by-hand instructions too but I’m just
too lazy.
You will need…
675g strong white bread flour
1 ½ teaspoons sea salt
1 x 7g sachet easy-blend
dried yeast
400ml water, at room
temperature
1 egg, beaten, for brushing
- Mix the flour, salt and yeast in your food mixer bowl. Make a well in the middle and pour in the water. Use the dough hook attachment to gradually work into a firm dough.
- ‘Knead’ for a further 4 minutes in the bread mixer, on the lowest possible speed. The dough should be very smooth and workable.
- Take the bowl (with the dough in) to a warmish place and cover with a damp tea towel. It needs to double in size, which takes about 1 ½ hours. However, mine didn’t double in this time at all. It barely even changed!
- Punch out all the air from the dough (if there is any) and knead by hand for another minute. Chop off one third of the dough and shape both parts into balls. Place them onto a greased (with butter) baking tray.
- Cover the tray with a damp tea towel and put in a warmish place for about 40 minutes, so they double in size again. Mine did double in size at this point, hurrah!
- Preheat the oven to 230c. You can put your empty roasting tin into the oven at this point.
- Uncover your dough and gently flatten each ball. Put the smaller one on top of the larger one and use your index and third (what is that one called?) fingers to poke down in the top, to join the layers together. Leave for another 10 minutes.
- Brush with milk and score around the edge of each loaf, using a sharp knife. Quickly put the bread in the oven and fill up the roasting tin with cold water. Shut the oven door ASAP.
- Bake for 15 minutes before reducing the
temperature to 200c and bake for 20-25 minutes more. The loaf should sound
hollow when tapped on the bottom. Cool your loaf on a wire rack. Hey
presto!
 |
| Look at that STRUCTURE! |
No comments:
Post a Comment