taking stock

I love having a pot of broth simmering on the stove. I love taking the remnants of a roasted turkey (or, as in this case, a chicken) and making the base for another meal or two. I get to feel frugal and smug for a change, instead of feeling vaguely guilty for my spendthrift tendencies. (Oh, those Honeycrisp apples… But I love them so!) And there’s something simply *fun* about looking to see “what I have on hand” to throw into the pot when it comes times to make soup from this homemade broth — it seems to truly define the very essence of soup, to me. I so rarely follow any actual recipe when I make soup, because soup is *supposed* to be all about “what do I have on hand?” And I enjoy the surprise of it all, with no soup ever being quite the same twice.

I also love making sourdough bread. What a wonder, that nothing more than some flour, water, and salt can turn into a loaf of delightfull bread. The loaf tonight was perfect, with a wonderful tang and a crunchy crust. I’m planning to sit down later when we watch “Rome,” with a mug of strong coffee and a thick slice of sourdough bread topped with a drizzle of either honey or agave nectar and sprinkled with Vietnamese cinnamon. Yum!

I know lots of people have trouble with their sourdough, and worry about measuring everything “just so.” I’m glad I seem to have a lucky hand with it, because I’d absolutely hate to have to fret about being strict when measuring my flour and water, or worrying about every little thing. I’m too damn lazy to do it that way, and would end up simply not making it at all. I never measure out the flour and water when I feed my starter, I just stir up the starter, add a little tap water (sometimes I remember to let it sit out all night so the chlorine evaporates first, and sometimes I don’t) and stir that, then add flour til I get the consistency I’m looking for, which is pretty much like bubbly mud. I don’t worry about it if the mixture still has some flour lumps in it, either.

When I’m baking a lot, the way I am now, I usually feed the starter twice a day, and if I want to limit how much I have on hand, I dump some of it down the drain and then feed.

The bread I’ve been making recently is very simple, and we enjoy it a lot. Before bed, I take 1 1/2 to 2 cups of starter that has been fed and is bubbly and active and stir together in my biggest mixing bowl with 2 cups tepid water, a Tb of salt, and as much flour as needed to make a moist, shaggy dough, which is usually around 4 1/2 to 5 cups. I usually use half whole wheat and half unbleached flour (both King Arthur brand.) Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and a tea towel, and let sit overnight — Danny usually checks it before he goes to bed and stirs/jabs it down with the silicone spatula if it has risen quite a bit, and then Jeff will usually do the same if it seems to need it before he goes to work.

The next morning, around 12 to 14 hours after I first mixed the dough, I check on it, and it’s usually high and bubbly, ready for me to work with.

I grease a baking sheet with shortening, and scrape the wet dough out onto it. The dough is very wet, so with greased hands I quickly fold it on itself several times, not kneading but just folding it in half onto itself from all
sides 4 to 6 times. Then I spray it lightly with Pam, and cover it with the plastic wrap. I let it rest 15 full minutes while I clean the bowl and the spatula, prepare the bowl I’ll use for the next rise, make myself a cup of coffee, etc. For the next rise, I use a slightly smaller bowl, one that is approximately the same dimensions as the Dutch oven. I grease the bowl with shortening, and dust it with cornmeal.

After the 15 minutes, I use greased hands to quickly and gently shape the dough into a vaguely ball-like shape — this is a very moist dough, so it won’t shape well. Plop this ball of dough into the cornmeal-lined bowl, cover
with the plastic wrap and a tea towel, and let sit til it has risen up to almost double the size. The times this takes varies from loaf to loaf, but it’s usually around 3 hours. When it’s close to the size I want, I place the cast iron Dutch oven and the lid into the oven and heat it up to 450 degrees. Once it is heated, I spray the top of the dough with Pam (this is the side that will be plopped into the Dutch oven for the bottom of the bread.) Take the Dutch oven out of the oven, plop the dough into it and quickly slash the top with a lame dipped in water (if desired — I often don’t) and put the heated lid on, and pop the pot back into the oven. Bake for 30 minutes with the lid on, then remove the lid and bake for another 30 minutes. When done, turn the bread out onto a board, and turn it right side up. Let cool.

This sourdough is made using the “Lahey-Bittman method” I mentioned in an earlier post, adapted to my own preferences. Simple, and successful.

Later — Danny helped me load a fuzzy shot of the sliced bread with agave nectar and cinnamon and my big mug of lapsang souchong. In return, he got to share my slice of bread. The partial loaf of bread is shown stood on its side, cut side down so as to keep the cut surface moist, and the top (which is what you can see) looks shabby because sneaky fingers picked off the crusty bumps on top.

He also says that if you right click on the picture, you can view the image in the larger size, although with such a crappy photo, it’s really not worth it. Now, if I can only remember how to do all this stuff on my own…