Baking with Josey Baker!

I closed my eyes and stood listening to the rough, rhythmic sound of two dozen hearth loaves being shifted from one part of the Miwe triple-deck oven to another. It was surprisingly soothing, calmness in the middle of the excitement palpable in the room.

Our breads were baking! They were beautiful, and smelled so good, deep and golden as the sunlight I was wishing for on this damp Washington day.

A group of us stood close by, watching as Josey Baker (yes, real name!), stabbed a wide, wooden peel into the oven, pulling out our loaves/babies, checking them for color before pushing them in again. The back of the oven was much hotter and Josey was moving loaves around so they would bake evenly. Josey prefers a bold bake, so he was working on getting them to burnished but not too much so.

This was our second day at the new King Arthur Flour Baking School, where Josey was teaching us how to build and bake the types of hearth and pan loaves he sells at his bakery, The Mill, in San Francisco.

The baking school is located within The Bread Lab, in Burlington, Washington, not too far from my town of Bellingham. If you don't know about it, well then, you should get yourself acquainted. Here's a good place to start, or watch Bread Lab Director and wheat breeder, Dr. Stephen S. Jones, as he talks about flour here.

Dr. Jones visited during our second day and walked us over to the test kitchen, where we yes, talked flour, and got to see all kinds of milling equipment, from a German Mock Mill you can attach to your KitchenAid mixer to a large wooden beauty of a stone mill called an Osstiroler from Austria.

Then there was the equipment they use to test the different qualities of flour, such as for gluten strength as well as starch and protein levels. Wow. I was starting to feel like a little kid; I was jumping up and down inside.

Thing is, being a home baker, I don't get many opportunities to talk to people in my daily life about protein content, oxidation and milling practices without them glazing over (or actually nodding off, yep), so this was it. I finally felt like I was with my people.

After this, we also got the chance to visit the new stone mill that is being built around the corner, in conjunction with Camas Country Mill , the Port of Skagit and Patagonia. From the outside, a non-descript warehouse building greeted us, but once inside, a beast of a mill, with parts from Denmark, Ethiopia and Kansas sat impressively before us.

Here's Tom Hunton, farmer and owner of Camas Country Mill, who was there talking to us about the new mill, the disappearance of regional mills throughout the country, farming and milling practices, and his desire to sustainably feed his community.

Knowing about the flour you use as a baker is so crucial, but isn't necessarily something the typical home baker thinks about. But we should! Who grew the grain where and using what practices? Was it sprayed with Round Up before harvest? How was the grain milled? And wait, back up, is it a genetically modified variety? Surely these are questions worth asking if you want to make bread that feeds and nurtures on all levels. 

But back to the actual bread making. We made three with Josey: his Country Bread, Red White and Rye, and his Dark Mountain Rye, a 100% rye loaf crammed with rich, toasty seeds. Because I haven't baked much with rye, which he assured us has a much smaller margin for error than wheat, it was especially helpful to learn Josey's process.

Rye dough looks like cement! Especially when you make 24 kilos of it, like Josey did! Take a look:

Because rye is very low in gluten, a 100% rye dough lacks structure and needs to be baked in a greased pan, unlike the wheat doughs, which we shaped, proofed in bannetons and baked directly on the oven hearth.

The combination of actual hands-on practice and learning principles, as well as the information about flour and milling practices, was just right for me at this point in my bread baking journey. It was also a huge treat to visit the new mill, see the test kitchen, and hear Dr. Cole and Tom Sutton speak.

One of the most helpful things Josey taught us was how to pre-shape and shape the dough. After dividing it once the bulk fermentation is complete (I'll go over this in a future post), he tucks the bench knife under the piece of dough, metal edge facing away. Then he simply pushes the bench knife (and thus the dough) in a J-shape ("J like Josey!" he said), flicking it away from the dough at the end of the movement.

As if by magic, the once globby piece of dough suddenly looks taller and slightly rounded. A few more times of this, and the dough has real shape, all without any manhandling. Genius!

I'm incorporating everything I learned as well as using the rye starter I got from Josey into my bread baking here at home. A big thanks to Josey Baker, who is a kind, generous, and totally cool teacher! You're the best!  

Spelt Tortillas and Using Your Hands

Late winter, nearly spring now. My hands are chapped as rough-hewn wood and my fingertips still don't want to be anywhere but snuggled inside a pair of wool mittens. 

Hands are our best tools, and tools are meant to be used. Hence, the current sad state of my palms and fingertips. Yet, it seems to me that most of us take our hands for granted. When, afterall, was the last time you actually said thank you to your hands?

Like, maybe never?

I know! I just realized this!

Some of you might find this weird or dorky, but since they work so hard, I think we ought to give our hands a shout out once in a while. Show our gratitute for all the little things they allow us to do every day.  

So, today I'm saying out loud, "Thanks hands! Thanks for letting me type this blog post! Thank you for holding my fork up so I could eat my lunch. Oh, and thanks for being there even before that when I was desperate to put that coffee mug to my mouth. Also, you totally deserve that cute, hands-together-gratitude-emoji! You're the best!"

I could go on, but you can see what I'm getting at. 

Yes, gratitude to the hands. No, not silly. Not at all.

Speak it; yell it into the wind. Then go and use them, the best tools you will ever have, to pat some pillowy dough into tortillas that cook up chewy-soft and perfect for tacos or quesadillas. 

Thank you hands!

Spelt Tortillas
Kingston and I made a batch of these the other day and filled them with a mixture of chorizo, potatoes and onions. But they are also delicious simply slathered with good butter, fresh off the skillet. If you're feeling like veggies, some sauteed greens and caramelized onions would be nice. We decided that these tortillas are our hands-down favorite, of all the versions we've made so far. 

Adapted from Serious Eats. Makes 8 8-inch tortillas.

Ingredients
200g (1 2/3 cups) all-purpose flour
100g (2/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon) whole spelt flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
36 g coconut oil
174 g (3/4 cup) warm water

Instructions
In a medium bowl whisk together flours, baking powder and kosher salt. Work coconut oil in with your finger tips to form a crumbly mixture. Add water, combining with your hands until everything comes together into a soft dough and no dry flour is left in the bowl. Cover dough with a dampened kitchen towel. Rest the dough for 10 minutes.

On a lightly floured counter, divide dough into 8 pieces. Cover with a damp towel and rest the dough for another 15 minutes. 

Pat out each piece of divided dough into a flat disk. Roll out into an 8-inch round, dusting very lightly with flour as needed. 

Preheat a seasoned, cast-iron skillet (I used my 10-inch one) on the stove or in the oven until it reaches 500°F. Basically, you want the skillet piping hot. If you have an infrared thermometer like I do, now would be a good time to point that thing straight at the bottom of the pan for a temperature check. 

Ease the dough into the ungreased, hot skillet and cook for 45 seconds to one minute, until bubbles form on top and the bottom starts to blister. Flip and cook for an additional 45 seconds to one minute. Remove from skillet and place in a kitchen towel, covering to keep the tortilla warm. Repeat until you've finished cooking all the dough.

Eat warm, filled with goodies of your choice, or simply buttered. 

Winter Activities and Nigel Slater's Sticky Malt Loaf

The New Year is off and I've been hurrying behind it outside in the freezing cold before slowing down again inside our toasty warm house, literally making piles of toast in the new doodad that my brother, Warren, sent over the holidays because he felt sorry for me having a fourteen-year-old toaster that only half worked.

Thank you, Warren.

We've been able to make lots of toast around here because I've been obsessively baking up all sorts of bread. There's Peter Reinhardt's Lean Bread, with its blistered, golden crust, which we now refer to as Crack Bread because once you start, you can't stop eating it.

Then, there are Sarah Owen's gorgeous breads, like Butternut Squash and Cherry from her beautiful book, Sourdough. With its golden crumb and easygoing sweetness, this is one of the most reassuring breads you can eat on a frigid winter's day. I can't leave out Ken Forkish's Bacon Bread (yes!), though, or his Field Blend #2 (whole wheat, dark rye), one of my very favorites. 

Gluten-free friends, wait. 

I've been working on my skills there too. What a challenge! I'm still chugging along with this even after Kingston made awful faces the other day while trying to eat some sorghum and brown rice soft pretzels I baked. Soft, they definitely were not. (There were, in fact, some jokes made about chucking them into the pond and hurting a duck. Nick Hornby fans out there, you know what I'm talking about.) And okay, I'll admit here that I made some faces too. Horrible ones. 

“What’s that floating next to it?” Will asked. “Is that the bread you threw at it?”

Marcus nodded unhappily.

”That’s not a sandwich, that’s a bloody french loaf. No wonder it keeled over. That would’ve killed me.”

— Nick Hornby, About a Boy

Though I've been making a variety of breads, I've mostly been using my trusty liquid levain, or starter. It has become, over time, practically invincible, doing its job with a consistency and joy that we should all strive toward if we want to feel truly alive. Because, what is the point of doing anything unless we put our full energy and conviction behind it? Do it like you mean it, I say. And, so what if I happened to learn this this from a goopy mass of wild yeast and bacteria?

We've also been ice skating a lot lately. Until this winter, I'd pretty much forgotten about it as an activity. It was one of those things I did every now and then as a kid at Pickwick Bowl in sunny Burbank, California.

Then a few weeks ago, some parents at school mentioned ice skating, an outing was organized, and there I suddenly was mincing about the rink, a bunch of little humans circling me. I watched as they took turns falling with a splat -- here, there, everywhere -- before getting up and continuing on again. Such little heroes.

Kingston and I have been back on the ice many times since then. This makes a lot of sense because one of the best ways to feel like a kid again, full of motion, freedom and complete joy, is to put on a pair of ice skates and go! Do some backward swizzles while you're at it.

In the meantime, if things get hard, as can happen in skating and in life, then, whether you're wearing skates or not, it's best to do what Kingston's teenage skating teacher suggests.

Here it is: When you think you're going to fall, slow down, put your hands on your knees and stop. When you are ready, stand up straight and feel the strength in your legs and your body. Start again. Go.

I'll add that when you're done at the rink and back at home, you should promptly toast up a piece of Nigel Slater's sticky malt bread, which I'm sure you'll have wisely baked ahead of time. Put that toasty goodness to your mouth. Devour it. Then feel it warm your belly.

NIgel Slater's Sticky Malt Loaf

This bread is best after aging for at least two days. It just keeps getting better and is completely worth the wait, so stay disciplined. Don't cut into it! Around here, we like this well-toasted. What happens is that the sugars from the fruit, molasses and malt extract start to caramelize and you end up with a toasty-roasty piece of bread that is at once sticky and chewy, melty and crusty. One more note: I used liquid malt extract from our local brew store, which sells it in bulk. Malt extract is a grain-based sweetener, usually made of barley. The grains are processed with water and the starches removed to create a liquid sweetener. I had a pile of it left over after making Renee's Rye Bread from the third Tartine book and decided to use some for this. 

Mr. Slater's recipe, translated for the American masses. Makes one loaf.

Ingredients

2/3 cup liquid malt extract (150g)
1/4 cup light brown sugar, tightly packed (100g)
2 tbsp unsulphured molasses
1 cup, plus 5 teaspoons all-purpose flour (250g)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 cup prunes, pitted and roughly chopped (100g)
2 large eggs
1/2 cup black tea, lukewarm to room temperature (125ml)
1/4 cup golden or Thompson raisins (100g)

To finish:
A teaspoon or so more malt extract

Instructions
Line a large loaf pan with parchment paper. Preheat oven to 325°F. 

In a small saucepan, combine the malt extract, light brown sugar and molasses. Without stirring, warm mixture over a moderate heat until the sugar has dissolved.

In a large mixing bowl, thoroughly combine the flour, baking powder and salt.  

Pour the warm malt and sugar mixture into the flour, together with the tea. Break the eggs into a small bowl, beat lightly with a fork and fold into the batter with the chopped prunes and the raisins.
Scoop the soft mixture into the prepared pan and gently smooth the surface. Bake for 1 hour until lightly springy, then remove from the oven and leave to cool in the tin. While the cake cools, brush the surface with a little more malt extract. After it cools, wrap well. Now wait a day or two, if you can, before eating!

Lemony Banana Bread Bites and Thinking Small

It's been kind of noisy around here. 

Lately, whenever I step outside, I can hear things like the red-naped sapsuckers calling from the woods. Leaves clicking together in the breeze. A two-foot garter snake we've taken to calling Eek (as in "Eek! There's a snake!") slithering across the backyard through piles of dessicated leaves from last Fall. I always hear its rustle before I see the quick movements of its yellow-striped body.

Then, I jump!

There's also the bullfrog who lives in the pond behind our house. He's come back this Spring and let me tell you, he's about as loud as a foghorn. When we first moved here and I was still a city girl, I used to curse his incessant bellowing, his vocal alert to the ladies in the area, reassuring them that he was, indeed, available. But what's to curse, really? He's just searching for a little happiness. 

Aren't we all? 

"Eek" the snake slithered away before the camera lens could catch it!

These sights and sounds have had me thinking about the small things and how if you don't pay attention, you can move through your day and miss out on them completely. How sad this would be!

Maybe it's because I live in a place with easy access to the natural world, but I find that shrinking the tangle of my mind down enough to make room for "small noticings," as the poet Sam Green calls them, makes my every day life richer. 

So wherever you might be at this moment, dare to move a little more slowly. Do look up to the sky. Pause when something catches your eye. Look at it. Really look. If you take the time to "think small," you just might see --or hear-- some truly magical things.

Lemony Banana Bread Bites
These little snack bites are inspired by Heidi Swanson's Lemony Olive Oil Banana Bread, which I make often since it's a favorite in our house. But this time, I didn't want a whole loaf, so I downsized them. They're tender, not overly sweet and are great for sharing. If you want to send them more into the treat territory (versus just snack), you can make a lemon glaze and spoon it over each one and let it set before eating. For the glaze, use equal parts brown sugar and powdered sugar, then stir in freshly squeezed lemon juice until it gets to the thickness of your liking.

Makes 2 dozen.

Adapted from The Sprouted Kitchen.

Ingredients
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup mashed, very ripe bananas
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest

3/4 cup oat flakes
3/4 cup oat flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons dark brown sugar
1/2 cup sesame seeds, plus more for sprinkling on top
1/2 cup chopped bittersweet chocolate

2 tablespoons turbinado sugar

Instructions
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk together oat flakes, flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, salt and brown sugar. In a separate bowl whisk together egg, vanilla extract, olive oil, maple syrup, banana and lemon zest. Add wet ingredients to dry and stir to combine. The mixture will be fairly wet. Cover and refrigerate for 20 minutes to allow it to firm up slightly. While the mixture rests, preheat oven to 375° F.

Use a small ice cream scoop (or a spoon) to scoop and drop dough onto the prepared pan. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and turbinado sugar. Bake for 12 to 14 minutes, rotating halfway through. The bites are done when you feel a bit of resistance when you press down lightly on them with a fingertip. 

If using glaze, cool completely before spooning over each bite. 

...And speaking of small things, you can't get much smaller than the amazing creatures living inside a teaspoon of ocean water...

2016 Oscar® nominated Best Original Song "MANTA RAY" written and performed by Academy Award® nominated composer J. RALPH and Academy Award® Nominated artist ANOHNI (F.K.A.

Herbed Soda Bread

Every year, right around Thanksgiving, my brother sends me one or two cookbooks. This is to get me in the mindset for COOKING with him when he arrives a few days before the big event. Cooking with Warren is an all-caps activity for sure. 

Call it sibling bonding, but being in the kitchen with him once a year is a real highlight for me, something that I start looking forward to months ahead of time. Before he gets here, texts with menu ideas start flying between us. Smoke the turkey or not? --Sure. Apple Pie with Bourbon Caramel? --Yes!

Warren cooks with intensity, creativity and passion. He always makes his sticky rice stuffing jammed full of Chinese pork-and-duck sausage (a crowd pleaser), but last year there were a lot of Ottolenghi-inspired dishes, like the savory cheesecake he re-created after tasting one during a recent trip to NOPI.

This time, before I received anything from Warren in the mail, he sent a text: "Let's make bread this year."

A couple of days later, a cardboard Amazon box landed next to the front door. Guess what was inside? Yep, two bread books. One by Ken Forkish and the other by Josey Baker of The Mill in San Francisco. 

The Ken Forkish book is beautiful -- thoroughly informative, down to a section on protein levels in flour and a description of him going out to one of the Eastern Washington farms that belongs to the Shepherd's Grain collective, which is where he gets his flour. Cool.

After reading the Forkish book with a great sense of reverence (which is what naturally crept into me as I went along), I was a little startled by Josey's very casual, user-friendly tone (see I'm even calling him by his first name -- he makes you feel like you should be on a first name basis). Ugh, not for me, I immediately thought. 

But then I kept flipping through, reading, and it occurred to me. What's wrong with a casual tone? Being user-friendly? With an emphasis on no special equipment needed?

Um, like, totally nothing.

Josey starts you out from the very beginning, with making loaves of bread using packets of active dry yeast. You eventually graduate to making your own sourdough starter, from which you can make a pre-ferment and hearth breads with a much deeper flavor and longer shelf life. The real thing, in other words.

I got my starter going immediately and it's been fun tending to it. Kind of like a low-maintenance, non-complaining friend or pet sitting on the counter. It couldn't be easier. It's also pretty neat that it pulls wild yeast from the air and into itself, becoming something else entirely.

The starter will be ready to go when my brother arrives, though I'll bake a few practice loaves in case I need to make the necessary adjustments before he gets here.

While tendng to the starter and reading through Josey's book, I remembered making Irish Soda Bread a long time ago. In my memory, the loaf was squat and stodgy. But, I decided to give it a fresh try, which turned out to be fun and worthwhile.

Soda bread is so incredibly easy to make that a child can do it. And, in fact, Kingston and I have been making variations of this bread lately where he gets to be in charge of nearly the whole process, from weighing the flours to mixing it all up. The only thing he doesn't get to do is slash the loaves and put them in the oven. He is, after all, only four. 

If you are thinking about becoming a bread baker and are at all nervous, this is the one to make. You will, without barely breaking a sweat, develop complete confidence. Soda bread is also the closest thing to instant gratification when it comes to baking anything bread-like.

It's utterly basic in the best sense of the word. It doesn't rely on yeast and gets its lift from the chemical reaction that happens when baking soda meets the acidity of buttermilk. (Remember that grade-school volcano experiment where you mixed baking soda and vinegar and out flowed "lava?")

Always rustic, baking up a little bit different each time but never in any way less than delicious, this fine-crumbed bread will leave you feeling like a satisfied and accomplished baker.

Bread this year? --YES! Please.

Herbed Irish Soda Bread
Have this with some soup for lunch or dinner. It's also great toasted the next day.

Barely adapted from Super Natural Every Day.

Ingredients
2 ¼ cup spelt flour (283 g)
1 ¾ all-purpose flour (221 g)
1 ¾ teaspoon baking soda
3 tablespoons chopped fresh herbs such as parsley, sage, rosemary and/or thyme (I used a mixture)
1 ¾ teaspoon salt
2 cups buttermilk 

Instructions
Place a pizza stone on middle rack of oven (you can also use a cookie sheet if you don't have a stone). Preheat oven to 400°F. 

Whisk together the two flours, baking soda and salt. Add herbs and whisk. Make a well in the center and pour in buttermilk. Stir to combine. Dough will be somewhat tacky. Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface. Knead for about 30 seconds just to bring the dough together. Place dough on a sheet of parchment paper. Brush top with buttermilk. Generously sprinkle flour over loaf. Make two deep slashes in an “X” pattern across the top of the loaf. You may make more slashes if you like. More slashes gives the finished loaf more crusty surfaces. Slide the bread and parchment onto the pizza stone. I typically do this with the back of a cookie sheet. 

Bake for 45-50 minutes, until well-browned and loaf sounds hollow when you tap on it. Let it cool, then slice and slather with butter. Best eaten within a couple of days.