Norwegian Whole Wheat

Today I'm a bit crunched for time (trying to get some problem sets done), so this entry will, in fact, be almost entirely about the bread. But don't worry, this week's effort was exciting...

So, this weekend I found myself needing to return a glass plate (one that had been lent to me bearing a chocolate cake!). Of course I couldn't return an empty dish, so I decided to try a recipe that would yield two loaves. What I found was this free-form Norwegian
whole wheat recipe, supposedly used by the "Government School for Domestic Science Teachers" in Oslo sometime in the 70's, and if nothing else, it taught me several valuable lessons...for instance, "If you are making a gift loaf, it is probably best to go with a bread you already know how to make," or " make sure you have the correct ingredients before starting."

So, start off by adding 5 teaspoons of yeast to 1/2 cup of warm milk. After about five minutes, add two tablespoons of salt and then notice that the recipe calls for 3 1/2 more cups of warm milk, when you only have about 1 cup left in the fridge. Run to a local convenience store to buy the milk, warm it up, and then add it. Next, the recipe recommends slowly adding 2 cups of rye flour, 2 cups of all purpose flour, and 8 cups of whole wheat flour. I suggest something more along the following lines: in a separate bowl get the flours ready by adding the 2 cups of rye flour, and about 6 cups of whole wheat flour. Now, and this is important, the first key step is to actually run out of the wheat flour. Then add somewhere between 1 and 3 cups of all-purpose flour. Have the sudden inspiration to check other recipes in the book to see how to substitute wheat and all-purpose. Confirm, thankfully, that you can swap them one-for-one. Here's the next critical step: forget in that intervening time how much all-purpose flour you've already added. Then add about 2 more cups all purpose flour. Convince yourself that you've done everything right, and start adding the flour mixture to the liquid mixture. If you've followed these steps carefully, by the time it is simply impossible to stir any more flour into the dough, there should be at least 2 cups of flour left. Sigh slightly at the waste, and get ready to knead.

Ajax v. Hector...Roland v. Oliver...Beowulf v. Grendel...these epic battles all paled in comparison to the vicious struggle awaiting any who would dare try to knead this mass of dough into shape. It is not just the relative stiffness of the dough (certainly not any worse than the pumpernickel)...no, that would be easy to deal with. It is the shear quantity of dough this recipe produces that makes it so difficult to work with. Normal kneading techniques really only work the surface of this forming blob of pre-baked bread, so I recommend some alternatives. For instance, don't just lean your weight into the kneading motion; actually jump in the air and use your entire airborne mass to fold the dough over and into itself. Best make sure nobody is watching you first, though.

After about 15 minutes of such cardiovascular exercise, do the usual: put bread into a well buttered bowl, cover it, set in a warm place, and wait until it has doubled in bulk during the

First Rising (1 hour)
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A few days ago I agreed to help out a friend by volunteering to participate in a functional MRI study (they were looking at something related to how the brain signals swallowing and certain tongue motions). Basically, I got to sit motionless in a very noisy, rather uncomfortable contraption, able to see nothing other than the image of a computer screen reflected in a mirror giving me instructions ("prepare to swallow"..."swallow") for about an hour and a half. On the upside, though, I did get some imported Greek chocolate out of the deal, and it was delicious. Also, the sound of the magnets in the MRI going through their cycles reminded me vaguely of the music in Koyaanisqatsi.... strange.
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Alright, punch the dough down, and knead it for another few minutes, being thankful that it is now somewhat more workable. Cut it in half, shape each half into a ball, and place on cornmeal-sprinkled cookie sheets. Use a sharp knife to score the top of the bread. The recipe calls for a cross-shaped scoring, instead of the more traditional parallel cuts. Try each method, one per loaf (I have to say, the crossed one came out much nicer!). Anyway, cover and return to that warm place until each loaf doubles in bulk during the

Second Rising (The recipe says this will take as long as 2 hours. It took all of 40 minutes for me...I wonder if my modifications to the recipe made any difference...probably not, right?)
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Last week was my first week of teaching this semester, and by and large it went much better than the first week last semester. Except for the fact that during my Thursday morning section I started laughing at the absurdity of my teaching a class of college students. I didn't laugh overly loudly, but it was right in the middle of my trying to deliver a lecture, with nothing remotely funny going on. Those students must think I'm insane.
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Heat oven to 375. Brush the top of the loaves with milk to give a textured crust, and bake for about 50 minutes (until they sound hollow when tapped). Deliver the prettier of the two loaves back to the glass plate's rightful owner, as during this time the other loaf will have cooled off enough to be sliced, buttered, and eaten.

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Tasting verdict: A solid effort. Truthfully, not nearly as good as the last two loaves were...the taste was fine, but not particularly remarkable. Still, the crust is excellently crisp (even better than the anadama last week), and the bread is certainly dense enough to make for some very filling sandwiches.

Currently reading: "Mathematics for Physics II - A set of lecture notes by Michael Stone"... a particularly choice excerpt: "You can't comb flat a hairy sphere, but you can comb a hairy doughnut." How true.

Next week: I'm leaning towards something that will yield substantially less dough than this week's recipe. Perhaps a Bavarian rye bread?

Anadama

Anadama bread, a true New England tradition...just the thing to make me feel right at home now that I'm back in Illinois and the semester is starting to get into gear. I consider it just a minor detail that I don't think I've ever actually had anadama bread before. So what kind of bread is this exactly, and what's with its name? Well, even the Oxford English thinks the etymology is unclear, but every account I've ever heard agrees on at least a few key plot elements: some cornmeal, a bunch of molasses, a New England farmer, a wife named Anna, and some mild profanity...

Combine 2 1/2 teaspoons of yeast with 1/4 cup warm water and 1 teaspoon of sugar. While this stands for 5 minutes, put 3/4 teaspoon of nutmeg, 1 tablespoon of salt, 2 tablespoons of butter, 1/4 cup of molasses, and 1 cup of water into a small sauce pan. Mix and heat until lukewarm. Add this to the yeast, stir well, and then start adding, one cup at a time, 1/2 cup cornmeal and 4 1/4 cups of all-purpose flour.

Especially compared to last week's, this dough was soft, supple, and almost too easy to knead...it really didn't put up much of a fight at all. Anyway, knead in about another 1/2 cup of flour, until the dough is still slightly sticky but also nice and elastic. Favorite kneading moment: my iPod shuffling its way to "Play That Funky Music, White Boy"...I'm pretty sure kneading bread is among the least funky of things one can do.

Place the dough in a buttered bowl, cover it, and set it in an oven, turned to its very lowest temperature and with the door partly open, until it has doubled in bulk as it undergoes the


First Rising (1 hour and 40 minutes)
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So, I'd like to relate something of a disconcerting event that happened earlier this week. I feel I should warn you, though, that "disconcerting" does not fully capture the harrowing, almost soul-chilling surprise in store in the following paragraphs. More sensitive readers may wish to skip ahead.

Well, before you worry too much, rest assured that I still like milkshakes and think dessert is delicious, but this is nearly bad. A few days ago, late at night after a long day in the physics building, I went to a nearby cafe to treat myself to some hot chocolate. Now, I've always loved hot chocolate, particularly in the wintertime...since I was a little kid I always loved coming in from the blustery cold of a New England winter's day, sitting by the fire, and cupping my hands around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Well anyway, I ordered my hot chocolate, took it to the upstairs seating area, found myself a quiet spot by a window, took a sip, and...

Nothing. I don't know quite how to describe it, but the hot chocolate tasted somehow hollow. Don't get me wrong, it tasted just like any other cocoa I've had, maybe even a bit fancier than usual. But it was all warmth and sweetness, with nothing behind it, as if it lacked character (or, some might say, "edge"). Perhaps this was just the slow but natural evolution of my tastes as I've gravitated towards darker chocolates and the occasional cup of coffee, but still. It was like hanging out with a childhood friend and suddenly realizing that there was just no real personality behind the kindness. Anyway, I'm not quite sure what to make of all this, but the whole thing threw me for a loop, because, quite frankly, I don't want to not like hot cocoa. I've been a bit afraid to try any since then, but I suppose sooner or later I'll have to find out if it was a fluke or if my tastes really are changing that much. Hope not.
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In one of the most enjoyable steps in the bread-making process, punch down into the warm , slightly buttery mass of dough several times to expel any air bubbles. Then shape it into a loaf and place it in a buttered 10 inch bread pan. But again, if you still happen to only have a 9 by 5 pan, use that instead. Re-cover the dough and return it to the barely-on oven for the


Second Rising (50 minutes)
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Well, the second semester is off to an easy enough start, with only two short problem sets assigned so far, and nothing due for almost a week. Since the only part of the first semester that is still vividly with me is just how difficult, stressful, and hectic the time after Thanksgiving was, it's a little hard to remember that, in fact, the first few weeks of that semester were practically a walk in the park, with work done early and plenty of free time. It's as if I expected the difficulty to continue to ramp up between the first and second semesters, instead of the usual cyclic period of difficulty that has characterized school for as long as I can remember.

I'm reasonably excited about how these next few months are shaping up in terms of academics...I was a bit more excited before the semester actually began, but hopefully my professors were just taking the first week to shake the rust off before classes really start taking off this coming week. Also, my own teaching finally starts next week, and while I'm not so much looking forward to having to soon grade stacks of quizzes, I'm excited to meet my new students. Hopefully it will be as fun as it was last semester!
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Heat oven to 425 degrees, and bake for 10 minutes. Then reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees and bake for another 35 minutes. Take what is not, perhaps, the most aesthetically pleasing loaf of bread ever baked by mortal man out of the oven and put on a cooling rack. Read a short chapter of a nearby book while you wait for the bread to cool enough to be sliced, buttered, and eaten warm.


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Tasting verdict:
Very interesting! This bread manages to be very light in texture and yet still be surprisingly flavorful. Also, the crust is wonderfully crispy, no doubt due to that short, high-temperature initial phase of the baking. All in all, I think I'm going to enjoy this weeks' lunchtime sandwiches!

Current food craving:
Pizza...Nothing too fancy in terms of toppings, with extra tomato sauce.

Currently reading:
"Demian" - Herman Hesse
"Solid State Physics" - Ashcroft and Mermin (something of a stylistic letdown after E.B. White)

Next Week:
Still a little undecided, but I'm leaning towards a loaf of free-form Norwegian whole wheat bread (although perhaps that just reveals my prejudicial suspicion that the longer the name the tastier the bread).

Pumpernickel - The Beginning

Combine 2 1/2 teaspoons of yeast with 1/4 cup warm water and 1 tablespoon of sugar. Let stand for 5 minutes. Then add 1 tablespoon of salt, 2 tablespoons of butter, 2 tablespoons of molasses (N.B. don't be tempted into just trying the molasses...it's gross), and 1 more cup warm water. Combine and slowly add to this 2 cups dark rye flour, 1 cup whole wheat flour, 1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, and 1/2 cup cornmeal.

The resulting dough was extremely stiff, and I needed a little musical inspiration to knead in the last of the flour...and neither Bach nor the Muppets was going to cut it. Fortunately, the recipe for this bread let me know just what was needed: the cookbook called this a pumpernickel with "Scandinavian accents," so of course I realized I just needed to pop on some Swedish death metal. Sadly, a quick check through my iPod revealed what you have no doubt already guessed: my collection of death metal, let alone that of the Swedish variety, is rather limited. Somehow I made do without.

Place the dough in a buttered bowl, cover it, and set it in a warm, dry area until it has doubled in bulk as it undergoes the


First Rising (2 hours and 10 minutes)
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Why bread, and why a blog? The first one's easy...This year I got very few presents for my birthday, and what I did get was largely the following (from Mom): a 9 by 5 inch bread pan, a jar of active dry yeast, and a book on how to bake bread. Well, when it's made that obvious even I can take a hint!

And why the blog? Well, a twofold answer...on the one hand, this was a friend's (joking?) suggestion, and, after all, I am in the business of making my friends happy! On the other hand (and perhaps a bit more selfishly), I was told this blog would have a cult following. So, after a quick bout of introspection confirmed that "attract a cult following" is on my life's "To do" list, how could I pass this up?
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Punch down the dough several times, then shape it into a loaf and place it in a buttered 8 by 4 inch bread pan. Or, if you only have a 9 by 5 pan, use that instead. Re-cover the dough and return it to a warm dry place for the


Second Rising (3 hours)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ As this is the last night before my second semester begins, this seems as good a time as any to ramble about how uncharacteristically eventful my winter break travels were this year. Now, I love flying, and in the past I've never really had any problems with air travel...an hour-delayed flight at worst, maybe. This time, though, I had flights canceled on both ends of my trip that left me in unplanned locations overnight (in Chicago on the way home, despite a flight plan that had me originally traveling from Urbana to Detroit to Maine, and in Detroit on the way back to school). This, of course, afforded me the opportunity to meet all sorts of interesting folks, from the cheese marketing executive (who talked almost exclusively about the best type of cake and brownie mix - Pillsbury Funfetti cake and Ghirardelli brownie mix, in case you were wondering - to bake and bring to the office), to the Canadian preacher (Who, before I knew his profession, caught me trying to peak over his shoulder to see what book he was reading. It was an exegesis of the Book of Revelations.), to the family from Ohio that invited me to play cards with them in the Detroit Best Western after I volunteered to take a group photo for them.

And somehow, despite how many things managed to go awry, they always did so in the best possible way. For instance, when my original flight out of Urbana was canceled, the next available flight out of the airport wouldn't have gotten me home until the day after my birthday. Yet miraculously I had a friend who happened to be leaving to drive to Chicago literally at that very moment who was willing to give me a ride to O'Hare the next day. Or how when the airlines lost my luggage (with the few gifts I was bringing back)on my way home, they delivered that lost luggage to my door on Christmas morning. And when the same (apparently cursed) suitcase was lost flying back to Urbana (no doubt due to that unexpected overnight in Detroit), it took the airlines less than 6 hours to track down and get on a plane back to me. And this was all topped off by the surreal gesture of U.S. Airways giving me a stuffed teddy bear as an apology for stranding me in both directions. All told, the last two weeks have probably the luckiest stretch of bad luck I've ever had.

But anyway, now I'm back on the ground in Champaign-Urbana, and I'm pretty excited about the upcoming semester. I'll be teaching physics 101 again, and hopefully it goes as well as it did last semester. More on all that later.
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Heat oven to 375 degrees, and bake for 35 to 45 minutes (38 in my case- until the loaf sounds hollow when tapped). Let cool for as long as you can stand to wait before slicing and eating while still deliciously fresh.


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Tasting verdict:
Not like any pumpernickel I've ever eaten before, but still very tasty! Dense, hearty, and hopefully perfect for the upcoming week's lunch sandwiches.

Currently reading:
"One Man's Meat" (a collection of essays by E.B. White) - very good.
"Beard on Bread" (1970's cookbook by James Beard) - so far, delicious.

Next Week:
Hearty white bread... Bavarian rye... New England anadama... Cinnamon bread... I haven't decided yet; what do you think?