The post today is dedicated to @foodiesbeehive and lays out my atrocious first attempt at bread making, followed by a striking meet with mother nature. A balanced post – embedded with the hearty promise to try, and try again!
So, let’s begin!
Sourdough bread
Attempt: 01
Source: The Clever Carrot
Outcome: fail – absolutely disastrous
Laughs: aplenty
Creating sourdough bread starts with one essential ingredient: a sourdough starter. Simply put: without it, your bread won't rise - it's the heart and soul of sourdough baking. But don't worry, making a starter from scratch isn't as daunting as it sounds. In fact, I'll simplify the process with some step-by-step instructions. And detail all the moments I went wrong with my first attempt.
Firstly, here’s a beginner-friendly sourdough starter recipe adapted from the exceptional book, “Artisan Sourdough Made Simple”. (I also nabbed some top tips from the Instagram mantle: shebakessourdough.) Once you have your starter, the possibilities are endless. You can use it for a variety of sourdough recipes - from scrumptious sourdough bread with olive oil to focaccia, pizza crust, sandwich bread, and soft cinnamon rolls. I’m really eager to experiment with all of these...! Once I have the method down pat.
Ingredients:
•1x (5lb) bag all-purpose flour or bread flour
•1/2 cup (60g) whole wheat flour
•Water (preferably warm around 30C)
Quick side-note: for those who’re curious and want to know exactly what a sourdough starter is. Well, it's a live fermented culture of fresh flour and water that cultivates natural yeasts from the environment. I was delighted to learn (against popular opinion) that no commercial yeast is actually needed to do this - as natural "wild" yeast exists in that atmosphere all around us.
Day 5 of sourdough starter
I built up my starter over a course of 10 days, starting with strong white bread flour as a catalyst for fermentation, then interchanging with plain white flour to "mix things up" for wild yeast cultivation. This is where I first went wrong. Unbleached all-purpose flour or bread flour is recommended by any/all sources. I believe that, by switching between flours, I may have shocked/confused the rising process. The Clever Carrot (tagged above) advises the use of regular, unbleached all-purpose flour or bread flour for best results - skip organic as the enzymes are different which can hinder the rising process the first time around. I’ll summarise a brief methodology below.
Instructions
1.Day 1: Combine 60g of whole wheat flour and 60g of warm water in a large jar. Mix until smooth and cover. Let it rest in a warm spot (23C) for 24 hours.
2.Day 2: Check for bubbles on the surface. If none, wait another 24 hours.
3.Day 3: Discard half of the starter, then add 60g of all-purpose flour and 60g of warm water. Mix and let rest for 24 hours.
4.Days 4-6: Repeat feeding the starter daily with the same proportions of flour and water.
5.Day 7: Your starter should double in size, with plenty of bubbles. Transfer it to a clean jar.
6.Day 8+: Either use in bread mixture or continue discard and feeding process.
Daily Schedule (Approximate):
•Day 1: 60g flour + 60g water = 120g starter
•Day 3: 60g starter + 60g flour + 60g water = 180g starter
•Day 4: 90g starter + 60g flour + 60g water = 210g starter
•Day 5: 105g starter + 60g flour + 60g water = 225g starter
•Day 6: 112.2g starter + 60g flour + 60g water = 232.5g starter
•Day 7: 116.25g starter + 60g flour + 60g water = 236.27g starter
Testing Readiness: Perform the float test by dropping a teaspoon of bubbly starter into a jar of water. If it floats, it's ready to use.
Note: Creating your starter involves simple steps, like mixing flour and water in a jar and letting it ferment in a warm spot. Check for bubbles, a sign of fermentation, and discard any dark liquid ("hooch") that forms.
Testing readiness
Feeding your starter each day maintains its strength, and by day 7, it should double in size with plenty of bubbles and a spongy texture - indicating it's active and ready for baking. Being entirely inconsistent with starter “meal times” proved to be another big mistake. Skipping the third day and feeding at a completely different time on the fifth day resulted in weak beginnings. Come Friday night, when it came to testing the readiness of my starter, although the first test floated - indicating a bubbly, happy mix - the second and third tests sunk. Having had initial success, I hesitantly decided to push through with the sourdough preparations – this was a mistake. My bread didn’t leaven enough, producing a dense and flat loaf.
I followed Emilie Raffa’s sourdough bread recipe – because her directions are so clear and precise, and full of good tips. I’ll detail the method for you in another post, when I next attempt to bake bread. But, seeing as this post caters towards the starter, and I’m eager to move on to the bunny tale, I’ll simply share with you some images of the preparation - and encourage you to check out the recipe yourselves.
^^ Before moving on, however, I must stress how important the autolyse phase is in sourdough preparation. During this resting period, typically lasting 20 minutes to a few hours, the flour fully hydrates as it absorbs the water, facilitating gluten development and improving dough elasticity and strength. This initial gluten formation contributes to the dough's structure and texture while also enhancing its flavour by allowing natural enzymatic processes to break down starches into simple sugars. Ultimately, the autolyse phase plays a crucial role in creating a well-developed and flavourful sourdough bread. I waited thirty minutes into the bulk rise before conducting a series of stretch and folds – and got so carried away I didn’t notice the time passing – had to pull myself away at 01:40. When I got up a few hours later, the dough – which I’d left under a wet cloth – had exploded.
After an initial covered bake of 20 minutes, followed by 40 minutes uncovered, and an hour’s cooling time (patience is a virtue!) – my sourdough was ready to eat!
And it was awful. HAHA. Really. Wrestling this stubborn loaf into submission was futile. A tad too stodgy, pockets of denseness. It lacked that ethereal, cloud-like texture I was aiming for, but it had character, you know? Haha! Although, for a rookie attempt, it wasn't half bad. The crust was okay. Well. No, it wasn’t really. But for a first foray into the world of sourdough, it wasn’t a soaring success but it left me hungry for more… literally as well as figuratively.
Boundary bunnies
After lining my stomach with the world’s densest bread, I headed for the Borders on my road bike. There is nothing quite so serene/idyllic as a cycle through the mountains. There is no end to Scotland’s beauty; its undulating countryside is speckled with quaint villages and historic landmarks...
Being a solo traveller on long journeys like these, with hours at a time spent pedalling along roads that dip and dive through rolling hills, has had an incredible effect. Personally, I find exploring new landscapes on a bike exhilarating, but the silence of being alone in nature for extended periods of time – I’ve come to really seek these opportunities out. It’s become somewhat of an addiction. I find myself pining for the weekend during mundane workdays. While I value social interactions with colleagues, sustained periods of sociability can leave me feeling drained.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being friendly - and I willingly give out as much love and attention as I can – but I’ve absolutely come to rely on my bike and the freedom of the exit… if that makes sense.
Are there any cyclists out there who can relate? What draws you to the road? I suppose this is a question to pose the @cycling community and @hive-177745.
On the return from Innerleithen, between Cabertson Forest and Black Knowe, I noticed a distressed rabbit struggling to ascend the roadside ridge into the safety of long grass. It appeared disoriented, clumsily bouncing headfirst into the dirt and falling back into the road. Aware of approaching vehicles, I hastily pulled over and dismounted my bike, rushing over to halt the traffic as the rabbit catered off into the middle of the road. If I hadn’t done that, the poor creature would most likely have been hit.
It was blind in one eye, and had an oddly bent ear. I surmised it had probably been struck at some point in its little life. After the cars had passed, I carefully approached the rabbit, nestled in the protective embrace of the roadside bank, and gently scooped it up. It was shaking and clearly petrified – so I held it for a few minutes to calm it down. Then I jumped over the gorge and placed it over the fence and out of harm’s way. At least, out of the way of fast cars.
Despite our best efforts to intervene and offer assistance, the wild can be unforgiving and cruel. This small creature, with its one blind eye and bent ear, bore some significant scars. As I got back on my bike, heading for home, I couldn’t help thinking… that placing it safely beyond the reach of speeding vehicles was a small act of compassion, but it also highlights the fragility of life in the wild. In the face of such vulnerability, gestures of kindness like these may offer temporary respite, but they cannot shield creatures like this rabbit from the harshness of their environment.
I really wish I’d turned back. Maybe I could have emptied my satchel into my pockets, tucked the bunny inside, and brought it home with me. Surely, it won't survive long in the wild, and I'm convinced I could have kept the secret from my landlord. I'm sure I could have taken good care of the poor wee thing.
It's impossible to provide an exact number of animals killed on British roadsides each year due to several factors. But as a cyclist, you notice much by the wayside. I really can’t stress enough to watch out for wildlife whilst driving.
Anyway, I imagine you’re all thinking: but the bunny and the bun have nothing in common. And I agree. Combining the two stories in a single post might add confusion to the mayhem - but that’s how I roll. (Bike pun intended.)
The importance of consistency and patience in cultivating a strong sourdough starter – that’s one learning lesson we can take away from this ramblechat. And I suppose the same state of endurance can be applied to long bike rides.
As for my encounter with my four-legged friend in the Scottish Borders, this serves as a sobering reminder of the harsh realities of nature.
Be careful out there.
Drive safe.
And cherish small things.
Disclaimer
Blogger: @actaylor
Photographs: unless otherwise noted, all images were taken by me with an iPhone 8
