feel the twang.

This next trick is best done with a pair of abestos hands.

The normal way to check if a loaf of bread is done is to whack the base of the loaf and listen for a hollow sound.

The cooler way to check is to balance the loaf vertically on the palm of your hand and give the side a whack. The loaf should vibrate like a tuning fork. This is because the gluten would have stretched and set at its maximum. If the bread is underdone, there will be no tension inside for the trick to work.

Feel it, baby, feel it.

Balance the loaf in the centre of your palm.

"I'm picking up good vibrations, 

She's giving me excitations,

Good, good, good, good vibrations..."

bready bunch.

Just to give a sense of the kind of breads I've been making. I'm quite good at shaping and slashing these by now. There are lots more, these are just the ones I managed to take pictures of.

Sourdough Batards.

Normal Multigrain.

White and Poppyseed Bloomers.

Walnut.

Pugliese

Country Crust

Multigrain with carrot, hazelnut, raisins and kibbled rye.

Walnut.

Farmhouses and Oatgrains.

Seeded Sourdough.

go the whole hog.

People say if you want to do something, go all out.  This was the t-shirt that set me on a life decision - I will only buy t-shirts that have some thing to do with food.

In the context of all the badly thought out decisions and impossible to keep rules I have made, this is simple and easy enough to stick to. (Aside : Small life decisions - another example of how oxymorons are not impossibilities.)

It and the t-shirt paid off when we were selling Hog Roast Rolls at a festival. The pigs were first rubbed well with salt then roasted over a spit for about 5-6 hours or so. During which the tough skin transforms into crackling, there is a delicious pool of dripping caught in the pan below and meat over the tender parts of the pig become so moist I can easily pull it apart with my hands.

If you have just seen some version of handpulled meat on a menu, let me tell you again it does not taste any different. It just looks different because a natural set of implements have been used. The reality is, chefs use their hands all the time. So all the restaurant have done is to state a fact on their menu and attempt to charge you a bit more for it.  It's not hog wash.

A pig on a spit is a showstopper. First, the smell leads people towards it. When they are within sight, they are amazed by what sits in front of them.

It's grand - not many people have seen any more of a pig than a giant sausage or a leg of ham in the supermarket. The hard crackling is formidable and looks like bronze armour.

And it's brown crackling just makes you want to seek out a corner to enjoy the taste and almighty crunch in solitude...reverence.  

tied up in knots.

I can make these!

Usually they are made as a mixed bag of 4, each with different toppings - cheese, sesame, poppyseed and one with mixed seeds.

But thanks to the festivals, we have to make over a hundred of these each time. That is when a spare set of hands come in. 

The thing to remember is, to flour the long strip of dough well before it is knotted up. Otherwise when it proofs, the dough expands and comes out as one big blob without any definition or pattern. 

death row.

This is the green mile of the bakery, the end for both bacteria and yeast.

It's called a setter, upon which the loaves are laid out and sent into the oven. Time taken - no more than 2 minutes, sometimes much less. 

In the short time, there are moments that seem fast, mechanical, unthinking - the baskets are placed quickly onto the setter, dough is turned out of the baskets.

Yet, sometimes each of the dough is lovingly brushed with the hand, almost like brushing a wisp of hair off, making sure it goes in looking dignified. Be well and see you soon, when you come out the other end.

When it emerges, it would have changed status. In goes dough, out comes loaves.

I can't decide if this is the beginning or the end of a good thing. 

Taking their place on the setter.

Dough being tipped out of their baskets in which they have been proofing.

The brief moment before they are sent into a scorching oven.

The last push.

pork. chop.

I cut up a pig!

Very lucky for me....not so lucky for piggy.

This little piggy weighed much more than I did, about 1.5 times. It came from the abbatoir in halves, Stuart showed me how to cut it up on one side and I did the other. So technically I struggled with 30 odd kilos worth of dead weight pig which, still, wasn't easy.

And I got to do the half with the head attached, so it was way more than cool.

We did this after the dinner service rush at the restaurant but still the instructions and demo came thick and fast : 

"Use the saw for bone; knife for flesh.

First, take the trotters off with the saw.

Measure the width of 2 fingers from the end of the spine. Stick a knife in, cut around it. Use the saw for bone. When this comes off, it's a leg of ham.

Then go back up to the top of the pig, count 5 ribs down, stick a knife in, cut all the way around. That becomes the shoulder."

That was all the instructions I got for the primal cut which is taking half a side of pig and separating it into the shoulder, middle and leg.

Had to trim some flare fat off which got made into some crackling. 

Stuart in the background - left me alone with a sharp knife, a hack saw and a world of possibilities.

We made some head cheese out of this.
Didn't see the end result but we are going to make another one again.

For a job where I could have hacked it more to death, it turned out alright in the end. The edges were a bit rough but I did manage to get it in 3 parts rather than more.

'O I got you Babe....'

look ma, two hands

Oh what a great day it was when I could round with both hands.

But I can only do it with foccacia rolls which are small enough to fit into my hands and not the great big lumps of dough. The difference is 100g and 950g. Still, very pleased.

Skin tightening on a focaccia roll as it is rounded.

And I did it on a busy day when things had to go fast. I think we had to make over a hundred of the rolls and it just kicked in.

Sink or swim.

I swam with both hands.

earning a place at the round table

Finally, I am able to round a piece of dough.

Before this, I waited at the bench as they are being rounded. I could only shape and slash them thereafter.

Rounding is hard and impressive work. The bakers can do them with a piece in each hand, without checking to see if the skin has tightened, and chat at the same time. It's like doing knife work just by feel.

Rounding shares the same principles and limits as winding someone up. You'd push it to the extent just before the person snaps, let them relax a little, let their guard down and then have a go again. Always stopping just before it all gets overboard and it all ends in tears.

The only difference is, in the case of dough, it's the fucker rather than the sucker who will be the one crying.

The whole point of this stage is to strengthen and condition the gluten since it is elastic, stretching it a bit at a time to get bigger loaf volume. If the gluten strands break, there goes the structure.

Wholemeal.

What did it take for me to get there?

A lot of staring at Gyorgy's hands,
... a bit of sneaking a piece of dough and thinking stupidly no one has noticed, 
... quite of chunk of bearing through the shame of trying,
... an overdose of insisting I can do it,
... a little monkey-see-monkey-do,
... getting a better feel each time
... and a little something through osmosis.

Country Cob.

Malted Brown.

Before I got here, I was known as the Dough Killer. I'd overdo it and ruin the dough. When it gets to this stage, the dough is no longer wrapped in a nice tight sheet of gluten. The gluten strands break and shred. Imagine a cat has run its claws through a ball of string.

When done right, it looks like the dough has been given a facelift and everything is taut and springy.

focaccia

Next to slashing bread, one of the first things I got very good at was making focaccia. 

It is a very wet light dough which means it is easier and more delicate to handle. 

Individual focaccia rolls sitting on olive oil. Each weighs about 100g.

They have about a 10min rest and then is flattened out.
Fresh rosemary and rock salt is sprinkled on top.

We make trays and trays of this on Thursdays and Fridays.
The record was about 10 trays.

 We also make huge trays of focaccia that gets cut up into 8 big book size slices.

After.

getting me some lip action

Batards are more difficult to cut than baguettes.

With the baguettes, the trick is to start where each slash ends. After they are shaped, baguettes sit tightly in linen cloths in the fridge to intentionally retard proofing. This means they will have very little chance to expand. Until they meet their fate in the oven. Don't let them to be spent before their time.

When in the oven, high heat speeds up the rest of the fermentation in a fairly quick burst. They widen quite significantly (it's easier for them to get wider than longer), opening up the slashes that have been made. For the baking lot, this is oven spring.

This and the angle of the slash (this need to run more parallel than perpendicular than I first thought),  give them the illusion that they have been twisted at some point. How the blade enters the dough and the angle of the blade does not make a difference.

Batards are a different story.

Instead of the twists that curve around its body, batards get more - for a bit of spring, they get a bit of lip. Batards call out with crusty waves that burst from the middle of the loaf. This is called the lip and this is where seduction takes place.

The lip gives a sneak peek of what holds inside the loaf. Strands of stretched and browned gluten lay visibly as the dough expanded and set in the oven. The slit promises airiness and perhaps even the last of the steam trapped. At the very least, some warm moisture still caught within.

An eruptive burst that yet has visible strands of delicate gluten. 

A great lip is one that lifts and cracks open from the loaf almost fissure like,
giving it another dimension from what is otherwise just a torpedo shape. 

If you should find little resistance towards a batard and its shapely lips, it's because there is more to it than eye candy. The lip that peels away is thin enough for it to be caramelised and browned more than the rest of the loaf.  More colour, more flavour. Say hello to Sweet Lips.

To get lip action, the angle of the blade makes all the difference. The blade has to go in at about a 30 degree angle to help it lift and peel open from the rest of the loaf.

If you can, look for a sourdough batard. Regular white bread made in the shape of a batard will be artificially sweetened to begin with. With a sourdough, it is easier to taste the sweeter crust from the sourness of the main loaf.

But be sure to look for one whose full suggestive lip stirs your palate and proximate glands with its tri-coloured pout. One that teases your senses with it and whose deep chocolatey tip and shades of brown makes you want to take it home as ready as you would a very tanned and fit person.

(Oh, stop your tenuous efforts of a clever pun,
I'd much rather there be none.
If you're thinking a chick or bird,
Your goldmine is actually a pile of turd.
If you have to Google for some clever Cockney,
Don't even claim that you know me.)

Rip a batard open when it is still warm or ask for it to be popped back into a hot oven. Pull it apart at its middle. Stick your nose into it. Be brave, go deep. Breathe in the sweet sourdough.  Handpull a chunk of it yourself rather than be duped by any fancy restaurants' menu - handpulled either means they used their hand rather than be bothered to pick up a knife or rather be clever to change its taste, they changed how it appears.

The folds to get your head in.

Take a bite of the bread and its sweet crust. The only experience that matches the sweet and sour headiness is smelling a baby right after it has nursed.

That's how smells like to me, anyways. I don't know where your nose has been and I don't want to know. This is a food blog, people. Keep it clean.

i am a cutter

It was a difficult one, trying to decide if it was better to be called Slash or a Cutter.

Lucky for me , they both have the same dramatic effect.

Between the baguettes being laid on the setter and them being loaded into the oven, there is about 45secs. In which time, up to 20 baguettes need to be cut. It has to be done fast and it has to be done right.

Even though they are worlds apart, I postulate some similarities between me slashing the dough as a wannabe baker and a have-to-be cutter : 

Pre-task, there is shaking involved no matter how many times this has been done.
Step up, you can do this.

Find a clean corner of the blade.  Please don't snag.
A swift and determined move is required.
One hit.
Precision.
Doubling back is not an option.
Focus, focus, focus. 
Blade meets skin.
Are you ready? / What are you doing? 
Go away. Don't rush me / I'm busy.
Please God, let no one be watching. 
Go, go, go.
That's it. That's how it's supposed to feel. Remember this feeling.
Can't stop now. Keep going.
There is satisfaction in feeling some resistance on the blade.
Snap out of the trance. It's real time.
Blood rushes.
Vision circle widens.
See the whole picture.
Stand back in wonderment. 
Is that what I just did?

I suspect this is the closest I will ever get to being a cutter.

Probably a very good thing.

Baguettes sitting in dusted linen, keeping their shape.

Right after they have been cut on the setter.

Twisted reality.
Or more like twisted imagination for thinking I am anything close to being a cutter.