By Guest Blogger Dave Peters
Some reflections on the baking of sourdough bread… a spiritual experience (damn, that sounds cheesy!)
My bread bias
I rather imagine that all bread prior to the commercialization of yeast in the late 19th century was some form of sourdough bread – bread in the traditional Eurocentric understanding of bread – bread that is some rectangular or oval chunk of cooked flour with lots of little air holes in it. Just bread, man! The term “sourdough” in modern parlance has made the simple millenia-old baking method assume some mystical spiritual aura which, beyond the fact that it is a method for making good bread, it does not deserve because… it is simple, fundamental, and has been an unassuming part of human history for the last 7000 years. On the other hand, real homemade sourdough bread compared with store-bought crap bread (yes, even the vaunted Ezekiel Bread) can be a mystical spiritual experience for the unbaptised. There are some other biases I have that I should share: bread makers are sinful and suck, commercial yeasts are boring and suck, bread pans are lazy and suck, and commercial breads are boring, tasteless, and suck.
What is bread
Some form of milled grain – flour, salt (kosher please), water – even Lake Erie tap water works- and something to make it rise: yeast, which is a natural active fungus. That is all. Oh, and an oven to bake the bread – about 425F in my recipes.
Some background
We all have some relationship to bread in the Western Culture. We might have once been sculpting objects out of gummy spongy Wonder Bread. At church we may have been struck by the phrase, give us this day our daily bread.” (hey, Jesus is talking about Wonder Bread, WTH?) When I was a kid in the 1960s, my mother would occasionally bake these chunks of wholewheat bread – the smells were hypnotic and the bread was like nothing ever tasted in my young experience. I even replicated this bread business in high school – mostly just to make good pizza. But always this fascination with the chemistry of yeast. To walk into a bakery in Europe is resurrection – minus the hallelujah chorus – just a bunch of Germans complaining about prices. But truly well-made homemade bread offers me connections with something spiritual and offers me grace.
To share
Make your own sourdough starter. It is easy. But it is not quick; nothing gratifying ever is. It can be a 3-5 day process, but in the later phases of the development (and I might add on the days you revive your sourdough starter for baking), you become a spectator of the creation of life – ok it is a fungus, but I find myself getting lost watching the stuff slowly bubble and grow. Without intending to, my breathing has slowed, my mind has cleared and for stretches there is a spiritual connection – ok, again, it is a fungus, but it is cool. Spend 5 minutes and just watch. Additionally, that yeast you have created is unique to your environment – those are your microbes, baby! Even if your relative in San Francisco sends you sourdough starter or you overpay for some starter from, say, Tuscany, within a matter of 3-4 feedings, your starter will be unique to your environment. My starter is unique to my house in Avon Lake, Ohio and no other starter will act and taste like mine.
And then this business – Discouraging those seeking instant gratification, the preparation of the dough is a two day process – and screw the bread maker and commercial yeasts, because this is worth it! That little packet of Fleisman’s or Red Star with their turbocharged monoculture fungus may cut the process by 90%, but it makes boring bread. If you are new to the sourdough process, there will be slow surprises. If you are an old hand, you know that preparing the dough comes in phases that demand patience and… wait for it… humility. No possible chance for ego because I am not in charge. My yeast is in charge.
And then there is this business – at some point the dough must be kneaded (forget the folding method!). I could pay top dollar and go to my local ashram to meditate, recharge, and get in touch with my inner so-and-so, or… I could knead bread. A bit of a learned skill – it just takes some repetition – but when I knead dough, without even realizing it, there is a rhythm to my motions and breathing and serenity just happens.
It is alive
There are generally 2 periods for the dough to rise before it can be thrown in the oven. It is like the biblical definition of love – as opposed to that volcanic explosion that every child loves when mixing baking soda with vinegar. The dough is alive – it grows but not as a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. The dough grows – it is alive with patience and kindness – you have been kind to all the ingredients. You have created this, given life to this and in some way, the process (not the finished loaf – the process) has given something back to you: humility, serenity and grace. And week after week I marvel as the billions of yeast beings triple the size of my loaves, yet the yeast never boasts.
Baking. There are strange reasons why this is not my favorite part, although the aroma is orgasmic. Too many rules. 425F for 35 minutes. Cool on a rack for 30 minutes. But again, amazing things happen. Initially, the heat excites the yeast into one more burst of chemistry, some of the moisture makes a jailbreak and cracks out of the top and the outer shell turns to an autumn crust, a crust like you have never enjoyed before. And sadly, the 425F has killed your yeast – and it is your yeast, but… you have saved some of your sourdough starter, fed it a bit and tucked it away at that special little alter in your fridge all ready to be reawakened next Tuesday.
The Bread. Lots of songs in the hymnal about bread (in mercy broken). Other than the original 1st communion in the upper room, your fresh loaf is it. Transubstantiation of whatever sort you wish, but that bread will fill your soul. Connection with all the senses – go on, touch it, listen to the crust when you cut it, can’t help but smell it, look closely at the little holes and taste it – no butter (yet)! Connection with a creative force (an omnipotent being may or may not have created the yeast but you did.). The humility to know you were nothing more than the mixer of ageless nature. Serenity of a patient process. Gratitude for what nature has given us. Birth. Nourishment. Grace. Sourdough bread.
For any other sourdough-related questions or discussions, feel free to contact Dave at herrpetro@gmail.com
Annelyze That 