The Non-Conformist Baker: Wet Dough, Wild Heart...Part 1

I realized that baking bread only once or twice a month was doing a disservice to my beautiful, bright teal Kitchenaid. Sure, it makes a mean cake and yeah, it is awesome for pulled pork or shredded rotisserie chicken, but the main reason the hubby bought it for me was because I would pine for a mixer to make bread. So, I am reading recipes, watching YouTube videos, and trying to conquer my fear of kneading. I know that "the bestest" bread is made by hand, but the few times I attempted it, all I got for my efforts were aching wrists, and bread so tough and chewy it was basically inedible. Even the squirrels wouldn't touch it...

Pinterest is a blessing and a curse with it's photos of baked goods. It is forcing me to learn more about the magic of bread with the awesome looking photos of ciabatta with the beautiful, holey crumb I can only dream about. Having the attention span of an ADHD retriever puppy doesn't help, as I will be looking up one type of bread, and get sidetracked by some other exotic loaf so beautiful, I totally forget the pumpernickel bagel recipe I am searching for...

Every loaf is an adventure, and I wonder how many dozens or hundreds of loaves I will have to bake before I achieve my "holey" grail...

This adventure came about when I was trying to find out the best time to add salt to dough, as I have been mixing the flour, water and yeast, letting it sit for about 1/2 hour, then adding the salt as the Kitchenaid kneads the now relaxed dough. Somewhere along the way, I saw a reference or Pinterest link to Chad Robertson's Tartine Bread Experiment with a long autolyse and a young levain, timed to do their separate things and end at the same moment, to then be combined and proofed and baked to a beautiful conclusion.

Of course, there were a few discussions here at TFL about it, which I also read (and am still finding and reading). I understand the theory of how bread magic works, I just have difficulties getting my efforts to provide the same results as the pictures, and tutorials show me...But the idea of autolysing my dough for 8 hours with no yeast, and then adding a young sourdough levain was intriguing to say the least.

I have done sourdough in the past. I enjoyed the preparation of the yeast and water, the cheesecloth rubber banded on the top, and putting it outdoors for a day, then feeding and waiting until the yeasts showed themselves. I had one starter last for almost a year, before succumbing to neglect and a non-baking lull in life. Always somewhat rebellious, I did not want to wait 2-3 weeks for a sufficient starter, so I made a "cheater." I peeled a dozen seedless red grapes, and soaked the peels in 100g of water, which I then added to 70 grams of all-purpose, and 30 grams of rye flour, and tossed a pinch of Fleishman's regular yeast on top. I removed the grape skins before adding the flour.

Three days later, and "Bob" was showing signs of life. So this morning, I re-read the Tartine Bread Experiment, grabbed my kitchen scale and away I went. Being as my starter wasn't very old, and wasn't really showing a lot of activity, I made my levain with 50 grams of starter, instead of the 25 called for. Being as it's just me and the hubby, I then cut the basic recipe in half, using only 500 grams of bread flour instead of the 1000 gram combination of A.P. and whole wheat. But otherwise, I did stick to the measurements. At least at the beginning...

Chad's recipe, as written, called for 1000 grams of combined flours, and 800 grams of water. A fairly hydrated 80% loaf. Well, with just bread flour, 500 grams to 350 grams of water (50 grams going to the Young Levain), I had a wild and unruly wad of flour almost instantly. Having recently discovered the joys of ciabatta dough, I panicked. I grabbed my measuring cup, and added another 150 grams of water, and the flour finally moistened and although still very tight looking, was shaggy enough to match the photos. The house is somewhat cool, and the weather unsettled, so I put my Young Levain and my now heavily saturated autolyse into my Sonoma Dehydrator, set the temp to 85 degrees F, and left them covered for 2 hours. "Bob" was fed 100 grams of flour, and 100 grams of water, to recuperate and rejuvenate for my next adventure.

At the end of 2 hours, I turned off the dehydrator and left my experiment in for another hour. I had already changed the recipe, so 8 hours was no longer an option. 3 hours was still longer than my usual 1/2 hour, and I also started to worry the levain would get too sour. I put the autolyse and the Young Levain into my Kitchenaid, and we are talking WET. The autolyse had relaxed SO much...It make my ciabatta dough seem almost like standard dinner roll dryness. I sprinkled 2 TBSP of flour onto the dough as it was mixing, and then, like my ciabatta, threw the Kitchenaid into "high gear" at 8 for 4 minutes. Chad states how you don't want to over handle the dough, so I removed the dough hook, and covered the bowl.

After an hour, it still looked like a very soupy mess, but the Young Levain was showing his happiness with the whole situation. Beautiful bubbles were appearing, and the mass was rising. I've been reading about Stretch and Fold, and even Slap and Fold, and had watched a few videos on YouTube showing how stretching and folding really wet doughs does work to bring them into dough compliance. But "Fred," as I have named this bread, was too soupy to even try to put onto the counter, and I didn't want to add still more flour. So, nonconformist me, I took a plastic spoon, and carefully scraped the dough away from the sides of the bowl in a reverse 'c' motion, and reaching down to the dimple of the bowl, then pulled the dough up and to the center. I saw a beautiful "webby" texture to the dough, which was encouraging, it meant I did achieve some gluten formation. I went all around the bowl, scraping and pulling 5-6 times, covered it back up and left it for 2 hours, and repeated. I know Chad stretched his dough at 45 minute intervals but I was hoping the additional time might help firm up this still sloppy dough.

2 hours later, I was amazed. Fred was definitely a happy camper. The dough was full of bubbles, which were highly visible, since the hydration made things so wet. After another in-bowl stretch and fold with my trusty plastic spoon, I let the dough rest again for 2 hours. This time, Fred was looking almost diseased, with large quarter-sized bubbles all over the surface, as if I had put Bubble Tea tapioca into the dough. If nothing else, I know my sourdough starter is truly active. I also know I don't need to double the amount I use next time! So, around the bowl with the plastic spoon I went. And this time, I'm feeling a bit of resistance from the dough. It's still REALLY wet, but it's giving me the type of feel like a somewhat higher hydration ciabatta. Floppy, but no longer soupy. My confidence grows that maybe I will be able to shape this thing, bake it, and not have to eat it with a spoon...

Some of the folk here who have discussed the long autolyse, have mentioned a cool ferment for at least 4 hours, if not overnight. I know that this loaf is going to have to bake in my Nambe Casserole, as if it were a no-knead bread, so the suggestion to have the dough chilled because of the high heat in a covered pan sounds right to me. Fred is now "cooling his heels," still in the steel Kitchenaid bowl, in the back of the fridge until tomorrow morning.

After tucking Fred in for the night, I sat down to re-read The Tartine Bread Experiment for about the 5th or 6th time, when I really LOOKED at the photo where Chad pours the dough out onto the counter for the pre-shape. OMG. It looks almost exactly like what I was seeing as I scooped and pulled with my little plastic spoon! The dough was different, of course, being whole wheat. But the overall look and curvature of the dough surface was remarkably similar.

I am beyond relieved. I now KNOW that while it still may end up yet another weird, chewy thing, I am on the right track, and didn't FUBAR my effort.

Now I need to find my camera and charge the battery, so I can photograph Fred through the next stages. It's hard to want to photograph your disasters, although so many wonderful TFL members share the good, the bad, and the ugly with us. So, I'm going to try to sit at the big kids table, and share what my adventures look like.

Next up: Fred comes in from the cold, gets in shape, then is cruelly dumped into a hot dish to rise up a bigger and better loaf than when he started...

To be continued.

~M