The High Attitude Baker

We live in a 1949 Stamm house in Santa Fe (Stamm being the builder, who became somewhat of a legend in this town.)  Unfortunately, postwar builders apparently weren’t too eco-savvy, or maybe heating was cheaper then.  So, while I love my house, I usually spend the winter wearing long underwear and my heavy-duty fleece hoodie.

The warmest room in the house is the master bath (probably because of the room’s size relative to the heat vent) so it’s never a surprise to walk in and find the dog asleep on the rug, wet clothes drying, butter softening, or bread dough rising.  Which brings me to the subject of this post.

I’m making–or trying to make–a natural levain or starter from scratch.  No commercial yeast.  We have so many great bakeries in Santa Fe that finding great bread is never a problem.  Someone asked me the other day why I bothered to spend five days building a starter, then another two making country French bread.

Answer: Because it’s fun.  And because I can.

Well, this person continued, what about the (old) new, no-knead bread baking methods that are all over the internet now, where you simply mix flour water, yeast and salt, let it sit for 18 hours and bake it off.  Presto…instant artisan bread.

Answer: The words “instant” and “artisan” don’t belong in the same sentence.

Yes, I’ve tried that method.  Beginning in 1999 when Suzanne Dunaway’s book, No Need to Knead, was published.  I’ve also tried Kneadlessly Simple by Nancy Baggett and My Bread by Jim Lahey and Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day by Jeff Hertzberg.  They all make good bread.  Very good bread, actually.  But not the best, in my opinion.  I find the texture leaves something to be desired, not to mention the depth of flavor.  And really, now, what’s the big fuss about kneading?  Ten minutes by hand, six to twelve minutes when my tendonitis is kicking up and I have to resort to the KitchenAid.  To me, having my hands in dough is the most pleasurable part–other than eating the bread, of course.

Right now it’s cold outside and we’re getting our first real snow of the winter.  I like being in the kitchen, and it doesn’t take but 15 or 20 minutes more with the kneading and shaping than it would with the no-knead method.  So I decided to try one of the “formulas” from Peter Reinhart’s Crust and Crumb.  Peter is one of my bread heroes… ever since I read Brother Juniper’s Bread Book back in 1991.

I’m an intuitive baker, but I accept the fact that baking is somewhat of a science and, particularly when making a starter, a formula comes in handy.  Although, having said that, I realized yesterday morning (Day 2) that here at 7000 feet, high and dry, the 1/3 cup water called for just wasn’t enough to hydrate the fairly dry seed from yesterday plus another 4.5 oz of bread flour.  So I ended up adding another few tablespoons of water.

The second day refreshment was done, although it hadn’t risen much, if at all.  According to Peter, that wasn’t a problem.  It was a problem, however, that by this morning (Day 3) it still hadn’t budged.  And the formula says not to move on to the next step until the starter has doubled in size.  Of course, it didn’t help that we had a power failure during the night and the house, even the bathroom, had the approximate ambient temperature of a meat locker when we got up this morning.

So right now my starter is cosseted in the microwave with my Heat & Heal pillow, which I nuked for four minutes and which is now radiating a lovely warmth.  I feel like I should put a little knit hat and scarf on my poor, chilly starter.  Hopefully, as the dough warms up, those little wild yeasts will get active.  We’ll see.  Stay tuned…