Blackened tuna


In which I totally display my paleo cred. This was it. No side, no bread, no salad or soup, no cheese plate, no smart hors d oeuvres, no tapas, no fruit, no desert no nuth'n.

Boy, is this ever peppery. Tellicherry peppercorns smashed in that stone smasher.

BLT


Avec fromage et l'oignon. And my own mayonnaise, of course. Loaded with mustard and garlic to the point of not being mayonnaise anymore. It's ... it's ... aioli! That's what it is.

This sandwich is so good I can't stand it. Know why it's so good? Because I used my own bread, that's why. Buahahahahahahahaha. I always think to myself, almost always, while eating a sandwich made at some other place by some careless non bread elitist in possession of no sense of bread-snobbery at all, " Too bad. This thing would be much improved on my own bread." That thought happens automatically. I cannot help it.

Judge not, lest you be judged. Except when it comes to bread. In that case go ahead and judge away. There's no point in putting up with unhealthy icky foam-bread made at someone else's convenience when you could be soaring in the stratosphere of breadery with very little effort at all. Like me.


My bread is sort of small, a little bit fatter than a baguette, so I need two sandwiches to make up for it, and that suits me just fine.

Recovered sourdough bead

There I was, minding my own business, scribbling little hieroglyphic sentences as you do, with the patio door wide open, when I thought, "dayum, that wind sure is windy." Then it occurred to me that's the perfect situation for collecting airborne yeasties and beasties within just a few hours. Either that or fly a kite. So I prepared a thin slurry of flour and water and set it out on the bench. No cheesecloth cover or anything. Then I left it through the next day even though the wind stopped. Didn't bother to stir it, or even check it. At some point a crust formed over the top effectively preventing new organisms from entering. Oh well, at least it had those few gusty hours and that's all that mattered. I brought it in. Fed it. Set it by a heat source. Allowed it to proof at 95˚F / 35˚C for 12 hours. It bubbled a little. Fed it again. It foamed. Removed it from the heat. Then it stagnated. Smelled like crap. Reduced it, then fed it again. Back to the heat. Still smelled bad. Fed it again. Still not working. So I thought, "Fugget about this!"

I'm nearly out of flour and I didn't want to waste the effort so I switched to commercial yeast. What I had would amount to approximately 50% of the total finished dough. It's aged by a few days off and on the heat. It's freshly fed but only slowly active. That portion is nearly all A/P flour, but not entirely. The new fresh portion was 1 cup heated milk, 1 super duper large egg, about 1/4 cup olive oil, salt, 1 teaspoon commercial yeast, about 2 cups A/P flour, and 2 cups whole wheat flour. This time I didn't use my own milled grain but rather King Arthur whole wheat, mostly to get rid of it. I'm tired of it taking up space in the refrigerator. I was surprised how well the dough responded to the new influx of ingredients along with the boost of commercial yeast. I thought I had loaded it up with enough elements that tend to inhibit rising that it probably would not double. I was wrong about that, it foamed right up to the top of my largest bowl within a few hours. I used the clay cloche and baked on as hot as my stove will go which is 500˚F. The loaves baked in 25 minutes + 6 minutes uncovered until the edges burned. I detected a burnt odor before the timer went off. They turned out perfectly dark. We bakers like the edges to be burnt. It's an artisan thing.

OH MY GOD THIS IS GOOD !


It's not sour. But it's definitely not NOT sour, if you know what I mean. It's also not wheaty as you could reasonably expect considering the large amount of wheat flour put into it. That tells me King Arthur whole wheat just isn't as tasty as my own milled grain and that surprises me. There's a noticeable difference. And that tells me the mill was totally worth it.

Ya know what? I've been going out to some very high-end restaurants lately and I do judge them on their bread. It's a key indicator. I realize this sounds arrogant, but good as their bread is sometimes, it's never as good as my own. Never. Just last night we went out to an expensive place and the bread was good, no criticism here, but good as it was, and I did finish the basket, you could tell it was the type that comes to the restaurant frozen where they proof it and bake it on site. You can tell because the baguette is never a true baguette. The crumb is dense, uniform and spongy. And that's just wrong!

Now I have that sourdough aftertaste lingering in my mouth that indicates the pH has changed in there and that causes me to crave a glass of wine or a cocktail. I'm self-conscious. Right now would be a inopportune time to kiss me so don't try it.

Blog Archive