So, I have this sourdough starter that began its productive life almost three years ago, when I took what turned out to be, for me, an incredibly valuable artisan breads class. The starter lives, most of the time, in our basement fridge and occasionally emerges to get a little air and enjoy a snack, as all starters like do to from time to time. It's really pungent whenever I open up its container, really sour and sharp. I've made some of the best bread of my life with that stuff, and I hope it never gives up the ghost. Why I've never done a blog post highlighting the loaves of bread I've produced with it, I can't adequately explain. I'm talking about the kind of sourdough bread that has to proof for a long, long, long time, and which is then baked on a stone in a very hot oven enhanced with steam. This sort of bread has the most glorious, indescribable crust. I guess I just don't know how to explain how to reliably reproduce that kind of bread, probably because I'm not sure I even know myself. It's a bit unpredictable, temperamental. It has a mind of its own.


Anyway, suffice it to say that some sourdough starters can help you produce bread that is excruciatingly good. They assert themselves in finished loaves in a provocative way. They love attention. They positively bask in the glow.

But, then again, there are also some perfectly respectable sourdough starters out there that are kind of shy. In a finished loaf, their flavor tends to hang back. They're mild-mannered wallflowers, yet they're reliable and tasty, and--really--what would the world of bread be without them? That's the kind of starter that appears in today's recipe. It won't knock you off your feet with it's sourness. It'll just nudge you gently. I bought the beginnings of this shy starter just before Christmas from King Arthur Flour (KAF), and have used it three or four times thus far. Its pedigree is distinguished, to say the least. According to KAF, the ancestor of the starter I purchased came into existence well over two hundred years ago. Amazing, isn't it? I couldn't resist ordering it when I read that.


History has shown that a well-cared-for starter can thrive for ages. Literally. And, much as I will always love that very-sour starter in my basement fridge (whose ancestors hailed from a bona fide San Francisco sourdough), I really wanted to try one that was old as Methuselah, just to see what it was like. So when this shy guy arrived several weeks ago, I was excited. I brought it in the house the moment the package hit my porch. It was practically weightless, packed into a small plastic jar. I opened it, sniffed it, and quickly fed it according to the accompanying directions. (KAF actually urges you to name your sourdough, as if it's a baby they've given up for adoption.) I peered at it anxiously over the next couple of days, reassured by increasingly obvious signs of life. It woke up beautifully, bubbling right on cue. Now, it's pretty much a member of the family.


About this recipe . . .

Gently adapted from this very easy formula on the KAF website, I altered the recipe by doubling it; using a simple mixture of sesame seeds, sunflower seeds, poppy seeds, and flax meal in place of their "Harvest Grains Blend" (something I have never tried, but that can be found here); and by rewording the formula to reflect exactly how I assembled it. (You can use fed or unfed starter; I used fed.) I did most of the kneading by hand, and didn't have a dough that was nearly as sticky as the original recipe warns. This is a well-textured loaf that will stay fresh and soft longer than many leaner breads. I used olive oil in it, and that flavor clearly comes through; if you aren't crazy about olive oil, be sure and use a vegetable oil instead. The sourness from the KAF starter was indeed very mild. I think maybe as my new starter matures, it'll take on more character, especially when used in long-proofing bread. It should be interesting to see how it evolves over the next few years/decades/centuries. Stay tuned!

Full Disclosure: Hey, in case you're wondering, I'm just naturally a big fan of King Arthur Flour products and recipes. I was not compensated in any way to wax rhapsodic about their stuff, nor have I ever gotten anything free from them (like, ever). I confess that I just love KAF. Heck, I wish the company was headquartered in Michigan so I could camp on their doorstep, dough-whisk in hand, an unrepentant and flour-dusted bread-groupie. 

Three-Seed Sourdough Sandwich Bread

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Makes two standard-size loaves.

1 and 1/2 cup liquid sourdough starter, fed or unfed (I used fed; this recipe uses the starter more as a flavoring than as a leavener [it also includes commercial yeast for leavening], so it's okay if you use unfed. This type of liquid starter is the consistency of thick, stretchy, sticky pancake batter; it is not a solid starter. Here's a link from King Arthur Flour that will show you how to make a starter from scratch, in case you have never tried it; note that making one from scratch takes at least several days. It's worth the trouble. Once you've got your own starter up and running, the sky's the limit!)
1 and 1/3 (up to 1 and 1/2 cups) lukewarm water
2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil (I used olive oil, which definitely adds a distinct flavor.)
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 and 1/2 teaspoons salt (I used coarse kosher salt.)
3 cups (or slightly less) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup plain potato flakes or 1/2 cup potato flour (I used unflavored potato flakes, the dehydrated stuff you can buy to make mashed potatoes.)
1 cup white whole wheat flour or whole wheat flour (I used white whole wheat.)
2/3 cup (total) combined mixture of sunflower seeds, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, and flax meal
4 teaspoons of instant yeast

In the large bowl of your mixer (or, if you prefer, do this by hand), combine all of the dry ingredients and gently mix them together using the paddle attachment on the lowest speed. Add in the sourdough starter, water, and oil. Mix for a couple of minutes until a nice sticky dough has started to form. At this point, if you want to stick with the mixer, switch to the dough hook and mix on low speed for about four more minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic; if you want to knead the dough by hand, dust a clean work surface with a small handful of all-purpose flour, and knead the dough until it's smooth and elastic (this took me about seven minutes by hand).

Put the dough into a bowl that's been greased, oiled, or sprayed with vegetable spray (I did the latter). Cover the bowl with a piece of greased, oiled, etc. plastic wrap, and then cover that with a lightweight dish towel. Let the dough rise in a draft-free spot for up to about two hours, until it's doubled or almost doubled (mine was doubled at 90 minutes; that's it below, looking nice and puffy).


Lightly grease two standard-size loaf pans (I always use a pastry brush to coat bread pans with vegetable shortening). When the dough has risen sufficiently, dump it out onto a barely flour-dusted work surface (the less flour added at this point the better) and gently deflate the dough. With a bench knife or sharp chef's knife cut it into two equal pieces. Round each piece with your hands, pulling slightly downward on the tops to create surface tension. Let them rest, covered with the greased plastic wrap, for about 12 minutes.

Uncover the pieces and form them into loaves, being careful to tightly pinch closed all seams; place the pieces, seam-side down, into their pans.


Lightly cover the pans with the greased plastic wrap, and cover that with the dishtowel. Place the pans in a draft-free spot that is a little warmer than room temperature.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Let the loaves proof (have their final rise) until the dough rises at least 1" over the top of the pan. Carefully uncover the risen loaves. Mist them with water (use a squirt bottle; if you don't have one, wet your hands  and very gently pat the tops of the loaves) right before you put them in the oven. Place them in the preheated oven on the middle rack, and quickly squirt your mister into the oven to create a quick burst of steam (be careful not to aim for the lightbulb).

Bake for about 20 minutes and then check to see if the bread is browning too quickly; if so, lightly tent the loaves with foil. They should be done in about 30-35 minutes (total time), when the crust is dark golden, and the internal temperature is at least 190 degrees inside. You can check by poking an instant-read thermometer into the bottom of each loaf. (I very often do this, just to be on the safe side. You'll know it's under-baked bread if the inside is kind of gummy/heavy even  after it's cooled.) Take the finished loaves out of their pans and set them on a rack. Melt one or two tablespoons of unsalted butter and use a pastry brush to lightly coat the tops of the loaves while they're still warm. Let them cool almost completely before you slice them.



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The last few days have been bittersweet, as a very important member of our family passed away on the 26th. My father-in-law, known to us lovingly as Grandpa Joe, left us quietly on Monday morning. A smart, interesting, funny guy who loved a good laugh, he was also distinctive in appearance--large in frame, with a nice face and a snowy white mustache and beard. Meeting him for the first time 20 years ago, I inevitably thought of Santa Claus. He did a lot of smiling that day, and I recall feeling that he was very warm and welcoming to me.


A long-time high school biology teacher and then a counselor, Grandpa Joe never lost his willingness to share knowledge. Just for fun, he enjoyed posing little trivia questions to family members out of the blue. I remember how he'd focus his gaze on me and say very pointedly, "Jane, this one's for you . . ." then he'd let loose with an arcane query on a topic about which I may or may not have had the slightest inkling. If I managed to respond correctly, he'd acknowledge that with a grin and comment, "Not bad, Jane. Not bad."



Oh sure, he'd had a few grouchy moments over the last couple of years as his energy diminished. But now those moments just seem like isolated stitches in the broad colorful fabric of who he was. This is my favorite line excerpted from his obituary, which was written by my husband:  "He loved singing, a good meal, was known to bake bread, and had a wonderful sense of humor." Yeah, the man even liked baking bread. He greatly appreciated well prepared food, loved watching cooking shows, and he read cookbooks. How many fathers-in-law do those things?



And the guy did love to sing. Last Saturday evening, from his hospice bed, he gifted us in a quavering voice with the melody from a couple of old tunes. When asked about his favorite music, he exclaimed over the obvious pre-eminence of Frank Sinatra. What wasn't to love about a man like that?  J.R.R. Tolkien said, "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." Well, the world will be a little less merry now without Grandpa Joe in it and, somehow, we'll have to pick up the slack.

When I made this loaf of fresh bread the other day, I was thinking of him. I believe he would have liked it.

Love you, Grandpa Joe. See you again someday.


About this recipe . . .

Besides honey and oats, this yeast bread also includes whole wheat- and white flour. It's a dense, moist loaf with a slight and pleasant sweetness. Very easy to make, and probably very difficult to screw up, this a good uncomplicated recipe from the excellent book, King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking. I've made at least half a dozen items from this book with fine results each time.



The only change I made to the recipe was to omit nuts from the dough, and I reworded the instructions, throwing in my own two cents here and there. I hope you like this hearty loaf of bread. It's tasty toasted and buttered, but also awfully good untoasted and topped with a little peanut butter. Really satisfying.


Honey Oat Sandwich Bread


(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Lightly grease a standard size loaf pan (9" x 5") and a medium size bowl. 
 
1 and 1/4 cups boiling water
1 cup old-fashioned oats (I only had quick oats on hand so I used those instead)
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into pieces (okay if it's cold)
1 and 1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup honey (I used clover honey)
1 cup traditional whole wheat flour
1 and 2/3 cups unbleached All-Purpose flour
1/4 cup nonfat dry milk (if yours isn't fine and powdery, crush it before adding it in)
2 tsp. instant yeast

In the bowl of your mixer, stir together the water, oats, salt, butter, and honey. Let this cool.



In an ungreased bowl, whisk together the whole wheat flour, white flour, dry milk, and yeast. Pour this into the mixer bowl with the water-oat-honey mixture.


Put the mixer bowl onto the mixer. Using the dough hook, knead until a smooth dough forms (I mixed mine on the lowest speed for about 4 minutes; you may also choose to do this by hand, if you prefer).


Put the dough into the lightly greased medium-size bowl and cover it (I used a clear plastic food-safe box turned upside down to help create a warm moist environment) for about 1 hour, until doubled in bulk.





Once doubled, oil your hands, and thenn deflate the dough gently. (You won't need to do this on a floured surface, believe it or not.)



Shape it into a 9" log, and nestle it into the greased loaf pan.

Cover it with greased plastic wrap, and put it again in a nice proofing environment--someplace kind of warm and not too dry. Let it rise again for at least an hour or more, until it's crowned about 1.5" above the sides of the pan. About half an hour into the rising time, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.



Uncover the risen bread carefully, put it in the oven on the middle rack, and bake it for approximately 40 to 45 minutes. Put a foil tent over the loaf about 20 minutes into baking to prevent overbrowning. Test the bread for doneness by poking it with an instant read thermometer; when the middle of the loaf reads 190 degrees, the loaf is done.


Remove the bread from the oven, and take it out of the pan after 1 minute; put it on a rack to cool. If you like, brush melted butter lightly on the top of the loaf when you remove it from the pan; this will help the top crust stay nice and soft. Cool it on the rack completely before trying to slice it.


P.S. Did I forget to mention that Grandpa Joe used to keep honey bees? I would give anything to have a picture of him in his bee-keeper suit.


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