Slapping nonsense sideways
M1 and J gave me the lovely baking book, Tartine Bread
for my birthday. I kept thinking I would wait until the shadows drew longer and the temps made their plummet before seriously losing myself in a baking challenge. The mayhem of past weeks sent me scurrying for a salvation a head of schedule, so I dove in, head. line.. sinker…
Sure, I was minus a few particulars, namely the proper amount of semolina, but I simply rounded up with the call of the bread flour, cut a bit back on the hydration. Oh, and adjusted my seeds. The multitude of seeds: fennel, poppy and sesame. I was supposed to do something with them, but that bit of knowledge fell by the wayside as I inched my way through learning a new technique for handling high-hydration loaves. I panicked for all of two seconds and then I settled for ‘winging-it.’ There’s plenty of left-overs which ought to serve me rather well when I jaunt into pizza-pie land this weekend.
Learning Chad’s technique’s for wet dough manipulation is challenging, but I have no doubt that its success will prove beneficial. I hold Peter Reinhart responsible for my insatiable appetite of sourdough and artisan baking. The Bread Baker’s Apprentice is responsible for my overpowering addiction to yeasted nirvana. Chad Robertson will prove guilty of taking me into the realm of the super-hydrated soured madness. Each one is a master, and both are a pleasure to discover.
Life simply gets better when one discovers the road less traveled. All sorts of nonsense gets slapped sideways. Rules are to be broken, recipes, altered, and if lucky, success if you adjust to the mayhem you’ve created.
This semolina loaf is my spectacular example. I can’t help but wonder, will it taste as divine if I follow the directions? Something tells me that it really doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m a winner. I’m in the midst of greatness.