Prairie Loaf (adapted from Jeffrey Hamelman's Pain au levain)

Believe it or not, I recently flew from Chicago to Seattle with a pocketful of starter and nothing happened! Granted, the starter was firm to start with (60% hydration) and it had been fed within an inch of its life just before I left for the airport, so it was sluggish and sated. Still, it sat tucked snugly against me in my vest pocket for two flights and what seemed like the longest layover ever (I was flying on a free ticket, so I can't really complain) and I was worried that it might get so warm it would decide to peek out and/or maybe let its presence known with a cheerful bang. I guess I still have painful memories of the long-ago day my apple levain exploded and had to be scraped off the ceiling and the windows of our enclosed porch. Now that must have been one nasty blow-up. Not that anybody was home to witness it but when we came back, we found the lid of the dough bucket on the floor near the door... Anyway, as I said, nothing happened this time. First thing I did upon getting home was unwrap the starter. Far from being active, it appeared stunned. I fed it and when I woke up the next morning, it had inflated to three times its original size. One day later, it looked like it never fled the coop.

It smelled so wonderfully lactic I couldn't bear to throw away the surplus. So I decided to bake with it.

I picked a very simple formula, Jeffrey Hamelman's Pain au levain (Sourdough bread) from the second edition of his book Bread: A Baker's Book of Techniques and Recipes and adapted it a bit. I don't usually bake or eat mostly white breads but I just had to taste my Chicago levain and by using no other flour than all-purpose (except for a smidgen of rye), I was hoping we would be able to savor it in all its glory. I am glad to say it worked (thank you, Jeffrey!). The bread has zero acidity and a delicate lactic aroma. It smells like the first breeze of spring over the prairie. Not that I ever saw the prairie or what's left of it but I am blessed -or cursed, depending on the occasion- with a vivid sensory imagination and the starter is from the Midwest after all. Since the prairie is what I saw with my mind's eyes when I inhaled the breath of the proofed dough, I couldn't resist stenciling one of the loaves with flowers and calling it the Prairie Loaf. And when that loaf came out of the oven in full bloom, I knew I had to bring it to my favorite plant whisperer, the friend who helps make our CSA such a happy place (thank you, Rita!). I shaped the other loaf as a bâtard in memory of the long rustic loaves my eighty-year old grandfather used to go get from the nearest village on his Solex motorized bicycle.

Baking on an impulse is fun but it has its drawbacks, one of which being that you have to adapt to what you have on hand. After feeding the starter, all I had left was about 160 g of mature levain. You know me, I am hopeless at math. With a calculator, I could have figured out the relative weights of the other ingredients but it would have taken a while and I knew I didn't have to because I could count on BreadStorm (the software I am using for my bread formulas) to do it for me.
Using the drop-down scaling menu, I entered the amount of flour in the levain (which I calculated by dividing 160 g by 175 then multiplying by 100) and in a flash, the weights of the other ingredients were recalculated and I was ready to mix. Sweet! Thank you, Jacqueline and Dado Colussi for having thought up this amazing software, and, Dado, a thousand thanks for this beautiful starter! And as you probably guessed, dear readers, there is a Meet the Bakers Dado and Jacqueline Colussi in this blog's near future. Thank you for your patience!

Ingredients

Method (this bread is made over two days and yields two smallish loaves)

1. Build the levain the night before
2. On the day of the bake, mix levain, water and flours until incorporated and all the flour is hydrated (I mixed by hand)
3. Let this shaggy dough stand, covered, for 30 to 60 minutes
4. Add the salt and mix until the dough is cohesive and supple, adding water if necessary to obtain a medium consistency
5. Transfer to oiled container and cover
6. Do two folds at 50-minute intervals
7. Let ferment for another hour and place in the refrigerator for up to 24 hours (it might become acidic if you wait any longer)
8. Pull the dough out when ready to shape and proof
9. Divide in two and shape as desired
10. Proof until ready (the length of the proofing depends largely on the room temperature. A loaf is ready to go in the oven when a small indentation lingers when you palpate it gently with one finger)
11. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes in pre-heated 450°F/232°C oven, applying steam at the beginning
12. Cool on a wire rack
13. Enjoy!

Gérard Rubaud's Apprentice Loaf

The Apprentice Loaf is Gérard Rubaud's teaching bread. He has developed the formula in collaboration with two of his former apprentices, Trenton and Justin, largely in response to customers' request for more whole grains. It is still a work in progress (what isn't with Gérard anyway?): his parting recommendation to me when I left was to adjust the hydration down.
The picture above is of one of the loaves I made at home based on the formula. Gérard wouldn't have given it his quality control stamp as he doesn't do grignes (the ears in the crust): his customers eat his bread mostly for breakfast and in sandwiches and grignes get in the way. Plus he himself doesn't like the hard bite or the concentrated taste. So he always scores his bread shallowly and at a sharp angle. I am the opposite: I adore anything crusty: grignes, quignons (bread endings), etc. Since my only "customers" are family and friends, there is enough of both textures in any given loaf to satisfy everybody!
To my mortification, I forgot to take a picture of the loaves Justin kindly gave me for my grandchildren  (they were not to be sold and he had enough for himself and his friends). When I reached my daughter's house, the kids -who are huge bread fans- were so happy to see my load of loaves (and hopefully me as well) that I forgot all about photography! When I remembered the day after, there was still a half-loaf left and I took this shot of the crumb.

Neither Justin nor Gérard were satisfied with this batch: the loaves were overhydrated and as you can see, they didn't get enough of an oven rise. I used a tad less water and my crumb came out a bit tight (see shot below). 

I'll keep working on it until I get it right. Meanwhile my little grandkids pronounced my loaves to be even better than the apprentice's (Sorry, Justin! They are seven- and five year-old and a fiercely loyal bunch. I am sure that if they had met you, they would have said both our breads were equally good.). As it is, the seven-year old granddaughter said: "Wow! This is so good. The best bread ever. As good as an artichoke!". Since artichokes are her favorite food in the world, I consider it a huge compliment.
And truly the bread is good. Spelt tastes endearingly sweet almost as if a dollop of fragrant honey had been added to the dough during the mixing, a practice which Gérard (who despises adding to bread dough anything but the -very- occasional walnut, olive or flax seed) definitely wouldn't condone.
Gérard's Apprentice Loaf Formula

• 76% unbleached all-purpose flour
• 24% freshly milled whole spelt
• 82% water (to be adjusted as needed)
• 2 to 2.6% salt (according to taste)
• 17% levain at 58% hydration (percentage to be increased in the winter as needed)

My adaptation of the formula

Ingredients: (for four loaves scaled raw at 627 g) 

• 1028 g unbleached all-purpose flour
• 252 g whole spelt (I used freshly milled as does Gérard)
• 972 g water (Gérard uses all of the water for the autolyse but I like to reserve about 50 g in order to adjust the hydration later as needed. So I used about 900 g+ for the autolyse and added the rest as I mixed. This may vary each time I make the bread as it depends on the flours, the weather, the temperature, etc.)
• 31 g salt
• 253 g mature levain at 58% hydration

Method: (this dough was mixed by hand)

1. Mix both flours with the water until the flour is completely hydrated and let rest, covered, for about 40 minutes
2. Add levain to the autolysed dough and hand mix until incorporated (Gérard recommends pulling long filaments off the levain instead of cutting off chunks as they incorporate much more easily. Not only did I follow his recommendation but I placed these long pieces of levain on top of the dough during the autolyse, so that everything would be exactly at the same temperature. It worked beautifully but I got a surprise: the dough actually swelled up as it usually never does in the absence of a leavening agent and I can only think that some of the wild yeasts from the levain transferred to it even without mixing. Which means that it wasn't a real autolyse...)
3. Add the salt
4. Mix until incorporated and adjust the hydration as needed
5. Cover and leave to ferment for 4 to 6 hours or more (depending on room temperature), giving the dough a few folds as needed
6. Scale at 627 g and pre-shape as a boule
7. Let rest, covered, for 20 to 30 minutes (again depending on room temperature)
8. Shape as a batard
9. Let proof about one hour or until the dough stops bouncing back under the gentle pressure of two fingers
10. Bake with steam in pre-heated oven (470°F/243°C for 10 minutes then lower the oven temperature to 450°F/232°C and continue baking for another 20 to 25 minutes, turning the loaves half-way through to ensure even baking (again these temperatures are given solely as an indication. I am spending the summer in a little cabin where the oven is small, very old and rather weak and I have to crank it up to the max to get a rise out of my bread. I actually set it on 500°F+  for the initial 10 minutes and on 470°F for the remaining 20 minutes or so but, from past experience with my regular home oven, I would say 470° F and 450°F should do the trick. If your oven is very efficient however, these temperatures might need to be adjusted down).
11. Cool on a rack.
12. Enjoy!

Gérard Rubaud's Apprentice Loaf is going to Susan from Wild Yeast for her weekly edition of Yeastspotting.


Related posts:

• Gérard Rubaud: the Never-Ending Quest
• Meet the Apprentice: Justin Rosengarten
• Gérard Rubaud