The Village Baker

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Try to take yourself back to the pre-Macarena days of 1993, the days when Democrats looked set to dominate American politics for the foreseeable future, when Hootie and the Blowfish ruled the music charts, and, though hearing that Michael Jackson was doing the soundtrack for a movie called "Free Willy" was funny, it wasn't nearly as creepy as it is today.

Those were the days when Sun-Dried Tomatoes ruled, before they were replaced by Roasted Red Peppers on trendy restaurant menus, which were soon replaced by Wasabi, which was replaced by Chipotle, which was replaced by Halibut Cheeks, which were replaced by Tapas, which, I am sure, has already been replaced by the latest food trend (Chorizo, perhaps?).

Try to remember what the bread aisle was like in 1993. In most of America the bread aisle was pretty homogenous, with 12 grain or cinnamon raisin bread being the most exotic thing you'd find. Even at trendy, high end grocery stores (which weren't yet trendy and were still known as health food stores), most of the breads you'd find had names touting their healthfulness, names like "Health Nut Bread," "Brantastic Voyage," or "Speltgasm."

But within a year or two something changed: the health food stores began to dust themselves off and become chichi. Out went the dense, plastic wrapped multigrain loaves of breads that seemed to sit on the shelf for weeks. In went racks of bread in paper bags with Italian and French sounding names, names like "Ciabatta" and "Pain de Campagne," breads that were delivered fresh each day if not baked fresh on site. The Artisan Bread Movement was here.

What changed? Certainly a general 90's trend toward "all things rustic and evocative of peasants are chic" had something to do with it (see David Brooks' hysterical Bobos in Paradise for more on this trend). But a baking book came out that year that had a lot to do with it: Joe Ortiz's The Village Baker.

Though I had heard a great deal about it, I finally got around to reading The Village Baker this month. I actually found reading it to be underwhelming. It's a great book, but I've read so many books that follow the same format, that contain recipes for the same breads, and that discuss the same techniques, that it was difficult for me to appreciate how big a deal this book had been. It reminded me of the first time I heard The Velvet Underground: I didn't find them all that interesting, because just about every band I listened to at the time (Sex Pistols, Joy Division, Bauhaus) had listened to the Velvet Underground and ripped off their sound. Growing up in the musical world they had largely created, it was difficult for me to grasp how significant they had been. Such was the experience of reading The Village Baker.

The Village Baker describes the recipes and techniques that Ortiz picked up traveling through France, Italy, and Germany, with a few American recipes from proto-artisan bakeries thrown in as well. The emphasis is on authenticity. Many of the breads require starters or sponges, and almost all are slow-rise, low yeast breads. There is more of a focus on the techniques the European bakers used than in creating breads with exotic ingredients. Bread machine recipes you will not find here.

I think it is hard to overestimate how significant this book was. Even if you don't use it often, having a copy in your kitchen is almost required for a self-proclaimed artisan bread fan. Like a copy of Miles Davis' Bitches Brew on the jazz buff's shelf, you've got to have a copy if you want to be respected by your peers.

The Village Baker is a solid book. I think some of the artisan bread books that have come out since have done a better job of adapting the techniques and recipes used by the professional village bakers to the home baking environment (my old standby, The Bread Baker's Apprentice, comes to mind immediately). Fully a third of The Village Baker contains recipes for baking on the scale a professional would bake on and is of no use to the home baker. Instead of standardizing on one or two starters, many of the recipes require building their own starters, which is appropriate given Ortiz's emphasis on capturing the authentic recipes and techniques used by the professional bakers he met, but it makes many of the recipes unattainable for all but the most diehard amateur baker. Because of this I don't think I would recommend this book to someone just getting into artisan bread baking and looking for their first book on the subject: even though it is the book that started it all, the complexity of some of the recipes is daunting.

For those of us who are already obsessed with bread baking, who own multiple bread books and are always on the lookout for more books on the subject, The Village Baker is a must-have book. The recipes that I've managed to bake have been excellent, and the writings on technique, such as how to deal with slack doughs, I've found to be extremely valuable. And it's just plain "an important book" that any self-proclaimed bread junkie should own.

Comments

Thanks for the writeup, Floyd. I agree with you wholeheartedly about the importance of Ortiz's book. But as I look at it now, those recipes that seemed so arcane and esoteric now have real meaning, and I don't mind in the least the professional sections. It's easy to slip the decimal point on the weights, for instance. He did not 'adapt' everything to the American home baker market, but gave detailed descriptions of what he saw the master bakers do. Slow ferments, retarding, poolish and biga, levain: he made no apologies, and I am glad to have him as a reference on my bookshelf.

I was lucky to attend an evening class that he gave on his book tour, and can say that he was a great motivator. He signed my book 'To Stewart, The bread will rise! Joe Ortiz.' Had I been a better student, I would have discovered baker's math back then rather than having to wait 15 years for the artisan home baking community to finally hit me over the head with that simple convention. (TFL has become my most recent mentor, so thanks, Floyd. Nice trip down memory lane, by the way.)

I don't know what happened to him after the book, but wherever he is, he is due a big thank you. 

I obtained this book in early April, 2010 and am just today getting an opportunity to read it and make and bake one of his sourdough recipes, Pane Francese Naturale-Sourdough Italian-Style French Bread.  Although I've been on TFL for about 3 and 1/2 months, and on another bread site (Breadtopia) for a few more months before that, I've little by little been gaining knowledge and experience from my own baking which usually was post reading a blog or two on a particular bread, and I've gathered a fair number of books with the initial emphasis on Peter Reinhardt's wonderful texts.  However, there has always been something lacking, sort of a cornerstone, upon which to understand some of Reinhardts' complex formulae.  To me complex, to probably most of the probakers and well advanced home bakers probably less so complex.  But, there are still a fair number of newbies on TFL from what I can gather from their often made pleas for help or assistance in resolving sometimes pretty fundamental problems that I don't think are always readily answered in most of the standbys, like PR, Leader, Lepard, Lahey, Glazer, B. Clayton, J. Hamelman, D. DiMuzio and many other well respected bread book authors.

I enjoyed Ortiz's text and find his writing to be just as important, and even more so, today as it was in 1993.  His first 3 or 4 chapters are essential, I think, for any budding breadophile.  I love the honesty with which he approaches the subject of ingredients and his non-scientific explanation of flours, additives, improvers and the like.  His is a book full of tips for the new and old bread baker alike.  I had never heard of bread additives except when perusing KAF's shopping site and found all the various additives from "buttery" to "bread".  But, not being given an explanation of what these consisted of I shied away from them because of intense food allergies to preservatives, food coloring and the like---thank God, not the all special glutten!  So I was quite surprised to find Ortiz explaining and describing in complete detail somethng called "Fava Bean Improver" which is nothing more than rye, whole wheat, fava bean flours alongwith Vitamin C, salt and a tsp of yeast.  All of which was preceded by a paragraph on each of the items which most would not have been aware--the rye and whole wheat were absent but what artisanal wannabe breadbaker hasn't heard of whole-wheat or rye flour?  There's something there about a homemade item called "Levit", and caraway powder made from dried chopped onions and ground carraway seeds, salt and pepper.  I've not heard of these items in any of the other texts I've dented--perhaps I would "dent" a little deeper if the other texts were as readable and understandable as Ortiz's text.  His comments on how to make and use grain mixtures is most welcome.

His second chapter on Leavening is about the clearest explanation I have come across on the concept of "fermentation" and how important it is for the baker to learn to read the dough so that she/he can retard or speed up the leavening requirement to the baker's need.  Although I've seen terms like biga, poolish, pate fermentee, I really lacked the understanding of what these terms meant that were so easily bantered about on this blog and most texts.  He offers in very clear language not only what they are, but how to make them and then provides the recipes and page numbers of those breads that are most adapted to their individual use.  The same is true for the Direct-Method of making breads where ihe lists some 13 different recipes and the pages they are to be found.  He then goes on to give a four page explanation about the "Sponge Method".  (In none of the other texts did I read that the sponge is allowed to rise and then after if collapses is it ready for use.)  Perhaps because his book was written in 1993 and he is credited with being the father of the artisanal method--a term he coined, he was writing in a style and narrative that presumed his readers really had little expertise to understand the terminology without going a lttle bit more.  Something we do not find in today's more refined and acclaimed texts.  Honestly, this probably sounds like heresy to some, but I think this should be the first book to buy, not the second and not after buying any of PR's books and I think I own all of them.  But, gosh, I really have enjoyed getting to know Ortiz's wonderful and informative and tip filled text. 

His discussion on sourdough bread baking is wonderful, and I don't quite agree with Floyd on this, but who doen't have more than one starter in their fridge.  And once again, after discussing a topic he follows it with all of the recipes, which are numerous and many with great photos, that fall under that leavening methodology.  Seventeen (17) for the Sponge Method; thirty (30) for the Sourdough Method if you include his five (5) listed under Porridge breads.  Of the 306 pages comprising this book, he has devoted 66 pages to the professional bakers' recipes a mere 20% of the text.  The remaining 80% is for the novice artisanal baker with lots of recipes to feast on and try and clearly written every step of the way.

Speaking of the photos, I've been toying with having a friend's father who is now a US citizen formerly from south of the border, construct and build a wood fired oven for me.  There are many photos and diagrams of various ovens he found through out his travels in France, Italy, Germany and the like.  He also offers easily understood drawings on forming loaves although Ciril Hitz's videos are quite good, but then you could buy two of Ortiz's text for the price of one video. 

In summation, I've still many pages to read and lots of recipes to try, but I think Ortiz' The Village Baker is one that should sit proudly on anyone's book shelf, but keep it close at hand because I think you'll find that you'll be using if often.

Bernie Piel