The apprenticeship begins

What better way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon than sitting around a kitchen with friends, learning about bread, kneading and shaping dough, then being rewarded with beautiful fresh ciabatta and french loaf...and let's not forget the stinky cheese! Thanks Houston for inviting us around, and for Taylor for making it happen (and documenting each moment)

Working out the bakers' formula

My shaggy dough in the mixer

Carefully watching Houston pour the ciabatta

A wet dough (high water content)

It's alive! (with yeast)

First fermentation

Houston shapes the ciabatta

Shaped to look slightly like a slipper (broader at one end, narrower at the other)

Amazing, the dough has more than doubled in size

Preparing this one to be shaped in a linen lined bowl

And this one to be cleverly shaped by hand - roll the dough towards yourself, tucking under the edges to create a taught skin

Time for the oven...

And 30min later, we have tasty ciabatta!

A beautiful view of the city...

...accompanying a beautiful platter

And now for the tasting. My first loaf!

But let's not forget the cheese

Especially not this fantastic stinky one

And home made pesto too

Taylor on quality control does our first slicing

And the party begins

A story of breadth

First step was to source some experience! My first thought was to try and obtain a copy of the Bourke St Bakery cook book. A bit difficult when you’re based in UB. But there appeared to be a few sections replicated on various blogs, and also a kindle version, which I was hoping someone could purchase for me.

At drinks on Friday night, I mentioned my idea, and was incredibly fortunate to find that Houston, OT's Media and Communications guru is a devout baker! Baking has been the source of many a great moment in Houston's life. He candidly described time when he used baking to help woo his girlfriend’s family - an ornate, difficult loaf, especially for an important family occasion. The love of good, tasty bread appears universal. Luckily, Houston also offered to lend me he two favourite bread books: Tartine and (the obviously named) Bread.

Houston explained that Tartine was a book for inspiration. Written by Chad Robinson, the baker from the famous sourdough bakery in Sanfrancisco, and accompanied with photographs from his long-time surfing friend, it provides simple instruction and beautiful images to lead you from baking a perfect country loaf to more sophisticated loaves, all based from the one core recipe. 

The book starts with a moving story of Chad’s journey from culinary school, to his first apprenticeship, then France and the Alps with his partner, pastry chef Elizabeth Prueitt, to returning to San Fransciso, and commissioning an oven to be built next door to his house. Baking has been a lifelong passion for him and his partner; it is a story of learning and hard work, but in a positive way, driven by a vision for a perfect rustic loaf and building a local bakery. It is hard to be swept up in his story and begin a sourdough starter straight away.

In contrast, Bread is a book for technical learning and is a story of “breadth”. It shows you how to read bakers recipes using percentages, understand the protein content of different flours, measure, mix and shape a loaf in the most detailed, and scientific manner. It makes baking seem more of a process, to be followed strictly, rather than an art. It appealed to the questioning chemical engineer inside me.

Both books are complimentary, but offer different perspectives. I had a flick through them on Sunday.

Houston suggested I start with a poolish (French for Polish) from the technical guide, and make a simple french loaf to work on my technique, whilst simultaneously creating a starter (leavener). Using a Poolish, or pre-ferment, takes some of the waiting out of the process of making a sourdough. The night before you intend to bake you mix equal quantities of water and flour (protein content >12.5%) with a small amount of yeast. The difference between a Poolish and a Sourdough starter is that a Poolish uses introduced yeast for fermentation, whereas a Sourdough uses the wild yeasts in the flour (and consequently takes longer to establish). My aim for this week is to attempt this loaf!

A new idea

It’s been a hard first week back in UB after a wonderful 2 weeks in Sydney, hanging out with friends and family, paddling on the harbour, swimming from Coogee, and generally just experiencing Sydney – from lectures on interesting topics to grabbing a coffee down at Circular Quay with Mandy and sitting in the park.

One of my favourite moments is riding beneath the trees on Bourke Street on our pushbikes, and stopping off at the Bourke St bakery for a coffee and chocolate croissant. Flaky pastry, bitter chocolate, expertly dipped into a takeaway cup of coffee and savoured over morning conversation. All before work.

Our morning routine at Bourke St Bakery

It’s a beautiful, wholesome part of Sydney. A mix of people line up outside the bakery for a famous pork and fennel or lamb harissa sausage role – nearby construction workers, trendy office folk, parents and children on the way to school – irrespective of the weather. Sitting on the small industrial style stools with our bikes, observing this community share enjoyment in great baking, is one of the pleasures I enjoy when at home.

To try and capture some of this enjoyment back in UB, I’ve decided to try and learn how to bake great, rustic bread. And hopefully build up to being able to make chocolate croissants!

To elaborate further on this interest, whilst not the same as being part of an artisan baking community like Bourke St Bakery, my first job was an enjoyable few years serving at the Civic Bakers Delight. Even though much of the bread appeared to be made from pre-mixtures, there was still an art to mixing, proving and shaping decent, repeatable, commercial loaves. And I remember some of the difficulties the baking apprentices had. I was tempted a few times on quiet, early Sunday morning shifts, to stick my head out the back, and watch the process. The big mixers churning away, the delicate knot roles lined up on trays, the fluffy pillows of dough emerging from the prover. And in winter, it was always great to be near the ovens.

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep this interest up, given the long working hours here, and how other things just crop up. But I’ll make a start this week, and let you know how I go.