This was supposed to be a do over of bread #74, but the do over crossed the line of what could conceivably be considered the same recipe. First, I ran out of spelt and did not think to replace it, instead buying other whole grain flours this week. Second, I warmed the beer before mixing it with the flour, which, by itself, would come within a do over. Third, I did not even think to add the flaxseed meal again. Then, I added an autolyse phase. Though my lines are without fixed standards and therefore arbitrary, even I had to think of this as a different bread. Still would like to go back and redo bread #74, but that will wait for at least another trip to the grocery store and probably a while until I want to make another beer bread.
Snail's pace kind of slow
The problem I have experienced with the beer breads has been incredibly long bulk fermentation periods with amazingly slow expansion of the doughs. Two possibilities came to mind: (1) The beer's cold temperature slowed down the first rise by several hours, perhaps inhibiting the reaching of a peak rise state, and (2) maybe it wasn't the beer - maybe my starter had gotten a bit lackluster in energy.
I fed my starter last night and by this morning it seemed happy and lively. This leads me to the tentative conclusion that the problem was not with my starter.
This time around, I warmed the beer. I took the frigid cold, full bottle of beer - Stella Artois, by the way - and put it in a pot of very warm water (did not measure the temperature, but not hot). Within a few minutes, the beer bottle was no longer cold. The bulk fermentation was still slow, possibly also due to the relatively small amount of starter I added, given the room temperatures of cool (but not cold) nights. However, the slowness of the dough expansion was not extreme this time. There was nice expansion within 24 hours, quite the contrast from the snail's pace rising of the previous beer breads.
What I put in this time
330g beer (one bottle of Stella Artois)
70g starter (100 percent hydration)
200g whole wheat flour
200g bread flour
50g cornmeal (stoneground, white)
9g salt
Autolyse before mixing dough
I combined the beer, the flours, and the cornmeal - okay, everything but the starter and the salt - and let sit for 30 minutes. I then added the starter and the salt. I added twice as much starter as in the last bread due to the spring temperatures of warm days and cool nights. No heat yet and no humidity. Still, only 70 grams of starter is not too much for nights with temperatures in the 50s, which stops dough from rising, and days reaching maybe 70 indoors, even with sunlight and heat.
After thoroughly mixing the dough (and, of course, covering it), I did three stretch and folds, each 15 minutes apart. I was cautiously optimistic because the dough had a nice feel and strengthened over the course of the three stretch and folds. By the way, I did them only 15 minutes apart because it was late.
I let the dough rise for 21.5 hours, overnight in a very cool kitchen and then, over the course of the next day, in whatever rooms were warmest at different times, being my closet (small, walk-in, with its own heat source) and the kitchen. Frankly, I would have allowed the dough to rise for a few more hours, but it was evening already and I suspected I would not get to baking if I waited any longer. Also the spouse said he would rather eat a crappy one of my breads than anything from Au Bon Pain. You would know what he meant if you have ever eaten one of their bagels.
My luck, thus far, being mediocre with the beer breads, I said what the heck and prepared for baking.
Baking preparation
I did a stretch and fold and let the dough rest on a well-floured cutting board for 15 minutes, covered, of course. Putting more flour on the board, I quickly shaped the dough into a boule and placed it on a well-floured kitchen towel that was lining a small wicker basket. That's a good thing to make ready during the 15-minute window.
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees so that the oven has at least an hour to heat up. Inside the oven to also preheat were the baking stone and the top of the la cloche, with its two hairline cracks up the sides.
I did a dent test of the dough at one hour and it popped back way too quickly. At 1.25 hours, it seemed ready, or, at the least, readier.
In the oven
Total baking time was 42 minutes, though I looked in at 35 and took the bread's temperature at 41. Nice golden and dark brown color. Nice oven spring.
I was pleasantly surprised because I wondered whether prioritizing my personal timing needs - such as going to bed early on a Sunday evening and having time, post bread making, to read - had made for a mediocre bread. But no, my laziness was rewarded with a really good result. Very nice taste and not nearly as sour as last week's beer bread. I cannot say I actually taste the beer, though there is a different flavor that lingers at the end of a chewing a bite. That could be my imagination.
Others tell me that beer bread dough rises the same way and with the same timing as their other doughs. I must be living in the twilight zone then because each time I use beer, the bread takes three days to rise. Now even if the coldness of the beer slows down the process, the beer is certainly warm a couple of hours later.
This time the starter was lively, there was a nice mix of flours, the hydration percentage was 78, and yet the dough rising time was already at 38 hours when I left home this morning. What's another day?
I used 50 percent whole grains because I ran out of whole wheat and spelt flours. I also added about 40 grams of cornmeal. Plus, of course, the bottle of beer. Stella Artois. My husband thought it would be the right lightness to go well in a bread.
Two days later
Now, on baking day, the dough will have been in the fridge for 54 hours. Not much hope for this one. Already contemplating a re-do.
Results were not the disaster expected. Despite a dough that rose somewhat, but was flat, at the end of a long - patient on my part - bulk fermentation, there was respectable oven spring. Perhaps due to the extended four-day fermentation, with two days on the counter and two in the fridge, the bread had a decidedly sour taste. I liked it, but it did go overboard.
Definitely will do this one again this weekend. This time, I plan to let the beer get to room temperature before mixing it with the other dough ingredients. Hoping the spouse is willing to donate another beer to the effort. Otherwise I will be compelled to actually purchase some for the first time.
Recipe after the do over
I will write up the recipe after trying this one again. Starting to think that my kitchen is located in a no-beer-baking zone.
In other news, I am researching storage times for whole grain flours. Nothing much for storage except to keep the flours in dry, cool, places. I put mine in ziplock bags in the freezer. What I am curious about is whether there is data on average times that whole grain flours, whether in bulk or from small producers, sit on grocery store and supermarket shelves.
Update - the recipe
Because I ended up making a new bread instead of a do over of this bread, I wanted to add the recipe to this post.
330g beer
35g starter
100g whole wheat flour
100g spelt flour
200g bread flour
10g flaxseed meal
9g salt
Mixed, covered, and let sit for 38 hours. Refrigerated for 51 hours. So many hours = very sour taste. Baked at 475 degrees for 45 minutes with dutch oven. Boy that thing gets hot. Needed oven mitts AND pot holders.
A pre-Passover enjoyment of soon-to-be forbidden tastes of bread and beer, though just for the week of the holiday. Somehow correct that the making of this beer bread coincided with reading the fermentation section, indeed both the bread and beer chapters, of Cooked. Felt like Michael Pollan himself should have visited my kitchen, though he is definitely a creature of the West Coast and I am decidedly East Coast, if not more specifically the exiled New Yorker.
A four-day, ever so lethargic rise, that finally arrived at the stage of finishing a bulk fermentation. Not sure whether that was the beer or the relatively small amount of starter, taken right from the fridge and not exactly ripe. Still, I like a good sour taste and a slightly burnt crust, even if it was not to the liking of a significant other.
Day 1
Autolyse
350g beer - Snake Dog IPA
42g cornmeal
16g arrowroot flour
243g whole wheat flour
200g bread flour
Mixed well and covered. I let the autolyse sit for 35 minutes.
Dough
autolyse plus -
70g starter
10g salt
30g water
Mixed the autolyse and the other dough ingredients, including extra water for adequately hydrating the 60 percent whole grain dough.
I did three stretch and folds over the course of an hour and a half, the first at 20 minutes, the second 30 minutes later, and the third another 30 minutes later. Then I let the dough sit in various places due to temperature.
Evening of day 1 - day 4
I kept the dough in cool places for almost 24 hours. Overnight the dough was in the kitchen. During the entire workday, it sat in the basement. Back to the kitchen again, from day two to three, overnight. On day three, I decided that dough needed some warmth. I let it enjoy a full day in a warm kitchen, then at a proper boring bedtime of 9 p.m., I put it in the fridge. It was puffy, though not exuberant. There it was awakened on the morning of day four.
Day 4
Early in the morning, I took the dough out of the fridge and went into pre-baking mode. Since this dough had done so much time in cold environs, I decided it deserved a warm final rise. First a stretch and fold with a 15-minute rest afterward.
Preheated the oblong la cloche in the oven at a toasty 500 degrees.
I shaped the dough into an untrained oblong shape (the untrained entity being me, not the dough), shorter and fatter than a baguette, though nowhere approaching roundness. I let the dough sit, covered, for an hour. Due to fear of dreadful burns, I let the shaped dough sit on parchment paper and took the dough, on the parchment paper, directly into the now-burning hot oblong la cloche.
Maybe I got carried away with the timing
Immediately reduced oven temperature to 475 degrees and baked for about 48 minutes. (I tried to keep track, but I had to recalculate the timing due to a few minutes of forgetfulness.) The ends and the bottom were a bit burnt, but the bread had a proud, deep brown color, and a cragginess (not a word, really) that made it rustically attractive. And very respectable oven spring, indeed, especially for a dough that had never risen in an expected way.
Yummy! Loved it. Another opinion, however, was voiced in the household, so quite possible I will play around with ingredients and starter ripeness the next time I pour a bottle of beer into a dough bowl.
Just pour the bottle into the bowl
So weird to actually open the beer bottle, in this case, Brooklyn lager, and just empty it right into the dough bowl. Great smell.
Maybe it was the beer that explains why this dough rose so slowly, or perhaps, it was my unwise use of a just-fed starter instead of having the patience to wait to make the dough until the starter was ripe. Definitely, the cold winter temperatures contributed to the slow rise as well, a total of 27 hours. Mind-blowing, yes, and a testament to my ability to be patient, at least on occasion.
Beer is welcome as a fun way to experiment as I approach the final third of the 108-bread project. Will also taste good to eat the beer bread with beer. I drink about one to two beers a year. An exact level of thirstiness is necessary; somehow, wine requires no such limitations. Of course, for those for whom any beer will do, this might seem like an alien attitude.
Two more breads - number 72 - until I hit the two-thirds mark. My daughter tells me to plan a celebration for 108 and immediately a party at a bakery or a bakery tour come to mind, closely followed by the idea of a bread-maker gathering. Or maybe just a quiet breakfast of homemade bread, nice tea or coffee, and some fine music, Sinatra, perhaps, and something good to read. I like my bread that way.
Ingredients and instructions
352g beer
70g starter (120 percent hydration, with big qualification; details below)
100g whole wheat flour
16g flaxseed meal
20g rye flour
389g bread flour
11g salt
Autolyse
Mixed all flours, flaxseed meal and beer (love writing that word in this context), covered, and let sit for 30 minutes.
Dough
Added starter and salt. Mixed and covered. Did two stretch and folds, the first at 15 minutes and the second another 15 minutes later. Covered and left out overnight.
This was Oscar night, which I totally enjoy. Two reasons: Commenting on dresses and listening to thank you speeches. Warms my heart to hear appreciation for parents, spouses, and opportunities, as well as curiosity about what political outbursts celebrities will engage in. Since I do not read People or pay much attention to celebrity culture, the Academy Awards is the perfect dose.
Starter and long, long rise
Though this recipe includes a healthy amount of starter, 70 grams, I do believe the exceptionally long rise of 27 hours was partly due to the state of the starter and not only to the winter temperatures. Instead of feeding the starter and waiting for it to get all exuberant again, I began with impatience. I fed the starter, adjusting it to a pretty high hydration percentage - estimating 120 percent - and put the almost just-fed starter into the dough. I waited only a half hour in a 65-degree kitchen.
I thought the rise would occur overnight because the outdoor temperatures had increased considerably; we were up to the 30s or 40s. I suppose, however, that the kitchen was nearly as cold as ever in the wee hours. By morning, the dough had hardly expanded. I went off to work, leaving the dough in the heated kitchen, with adult offspring in the house. Called this adult, who sweetly tolerated her mother, and texted a picture of the dough. It needed more time, so I took the chance that the hours would be too many until I returned home from work and asked for the dough to be left out.
Kitchen heat turned off, then six hours later, turned on for the evening. Returned home, immediately checked dough, but did not look fully ready to cease bulk fermentation. Left dough out until bedtime and then put it in my heated closet. As I was bringing the bowl through the bedroom, spouse noted my increasing bread craziness. Woke up at 12:30 a.m., and carried the dough to the refrigerator. Finally, it appeared ready, but this was not my time to move on to the next phase.
Tending to the dough
The next morning, I shaped the dough, without even a stretch and fold. Placed the dough on a well-floured kitchen towel and put it in a small wicker basket. Covered and left in fridge for 12 hours.
Returned home from work and preheated oven, with top of la cloche and baking stone inside, to 500 degrees for one hour. I took the dough out of the fridge immediately prior to baking, stopping only to put a nice set of cross slashes into the top of the dough.
Baking
Left the temperature at 500 for 20 minutes, then reduced to 470 degrees. Total baking time, 51 minutes. Lovely oven rise that only a majority white bread flour dough will produce. Divine crackling sound emanating, hissing practically, from the just-done bread.
Incredible, great taste with a hint of the beer. I never would be able to identify the beer taste if I did not know there was beer in the bread, but the taste had a different twang than a long rise sourdough - a more complex, maybe a two-layered, twangi-ness. And twangy is not a technical term, yet.
Next up: plan to eat the bread with beer: A big yum, I'm sure.
