I immediately thought of this amazing clip of an inebriated Frenchman on the streets of Paris opening a bottle of wine with just a shoe. Not sure how it would have gone down on the train, but incredibly it works, so I thought I’d share it. You never know, it might come in handy in the run up to Christmas.

Vive la France!

My latest, greatest baking discovery is the Dutch Oven I bought a few weeks ago. Recommended by the tutors at the SFBI as one of the best ways to cook bread at home, they yet again have proved they know their onions as it’s already helped me knock out a bunch of consistently great bread in the kitchen of our rented apartment.

The reasons it works so well are two fold. Firstly, the cast iron retains heat brilliantly, and as you’re baking in a sealed vessel your bread is less likely to be subject to any fluctuations in oven temp, which means a good even bake. The second reason is that it the lid traps steam, so there’s no need to fanny about with trays of boiling water or spraying your loaves pre-baking.

You could try something like a Le Creuset, as used baking Jim Lahey’s no knead loaf (where you almost pour the dough in), will work OK, but the Lodge Combo-Cooker I acquired is the business. Firstly, it was about the quarter of the price of a Le Creuset (they are quite a bit more expensive in the UK I’m afraid), and It’s other advantage is that you can invert it using the lid / skillet as the base to bake on which helps give a better crust colour while you’re venting the loaf. NB. You don’t have to have a Dutch Oven to make this formula, but it will give you better results.

The following is adapted from one of my favourite formulas we made during the bread section of the course at the SFBI. It is basically a no knead recipe, with the dough strength being developed over a series of folds. The formula assumes that you’ve got a liquid starter on the go. If you don’t have one, there’s a whole world of bread advice out there on line, so just search, but you’ll need a week or so to get it moving. The toasted wheat germ in the recipe isn’t a deal breaker, but it adds extra flavour and colour to the crumb. I’m not sure how easy it is to get in the UK, but if you can’t find it, just sift some whole wheat flour in a fine sieve and what you’ll have left in it is the germ. Toast it in a hot oven (200 c) for a few minutes until it gets slightly darker, but don’t burn it.

Right, lets get busy.

Ingredients

For the levain (makes 189g for  final dough)

63g Strong White Bread Flour

21g Whole Wheal Flour

84g Water

21g liquid starter

For the final dough

474g Strong White Bread Flour

326g Water

12g Salt

189g Liquid Levain

5g Toasted Wheat Germ

Method

12 or so hours before you mix your dough, you need to mix your levain. So weigh out your dry and wet ingredients, mix them together well and then leave at room temperature for the allotted time. When you re-vist your levain it should have at least doubled in volume, be good and frothy and smell like there’s plenty of fermentation activity.

You’re now ready to mix your dough. Put all your ingredients in a large bowl, and get your hands in there and mix it up. You want to make sure that everything is well incorporated together, and there are no floury patches. It’ll be a bit messy, but it’s a small price to pay. One thing to note is that you want your mixed dough to be at around 26 c when you’re done, so if the room is cold / hot you can try adjusting this with your water temperature.

The dough will look pretty shaggy at this point, but fear not, it will come together. Scrape out all the dough and transfer to another well oiled bowl, and cover with a lid / cling film and set aside somewhere at room temperature. As this dough hasn’t been mixed or kneaded, it needs time to develop and ferment, which is going to take about 3 hours.

Over these three hours you’re going to fold the bread every 45 minutes (3 times in total), and I’ll explain what I mean by this now. If you imagine your ball of dough as a square, you’re going to take each side of it and stretch it slightly, and then fold it on top of itself. So you do this 4 times, and then you flip the dough over so the folds you’ve made are now underneath. The dough is pretty sticky, so make sure your hands are oiled or wet when you do this.

After each fold, you’ll notice small changes in the dough that show it’s gaining strength. It will become less ’stretchy’ and more ‘elastic’, it will start to get gassy, and also smoother and silkier. By the time you’ve done your third fold it should be slightly shiny and ’sitting up’ in your bowl with a domed appearance. Set aside and cover for the final stint.

After the full three hours, and you’re happy with your dough, turn it out onto a floured work surface, sprinkle the top with a light dusting of flour and then de-gas the dough with the palm of your hand before shaping into a tight-ish ball. Leave the pre-shaped dough on your work surface, covering it with your inverted bowl, and leave to rest for half an hour.

Return to your dough half an hour later, de-gas again, shape into a tight ball again (or what ever style you want) and place it seam side up in a well floured proofing basket (these are cheap and easy to get on-line) for it’s final proof. You now have two choices. You can either stick the dough and basket in a plastic bag for it’s final three hour proof, or pop it in your fridge to retard over night (up to 16 hours), which I would recommend as it helps develop flavour amongst other things.

Either way, and hour before you’re ready to bake, set your oven to 26o c with the Dutch Oven inside so it gets up to temperature (if you’ve retarded your bread take it out half an hour before you bake). After an hour, take out the Dutch Oven, open it and invert the proofing basket onto it. If you’ve floured it properly, the dough should fall out and sit proudly on the skillet. Now slash the top with a diamond pattern (or whatever style works for you), making sure not to cut too deep, or go too far down the side of the loaf. Now place the ‘lid’ over the top and pop back in the oven.

You’re going to bake the loaf with the lid on for 30 minutes. After this time remove it and continue to bake (or vent) for a further 10-15 minutes. This helps set the crust, and will develop it to a deep golden brown colour.

When you’ve got your colour, remove the loaf from the skillet and place on a rack to cool. Contrary to common belief, you should never eat bread fresh from the oven. It’s still cooking when it’s hot, and develops more flavour as it cools. But when it has cooled, get stuck in and enjoy the fruits of your labour. The crumb should be open with plenty of air bubbles, and have an almost translucent quality.

I know all this sounds like a bit of a faff, but once you’ve done it a few times you’ll see that it’s not much effort, and all it really takes is a bit of time and organisation. Plus, when you slice through that crust and taste that hand made, home made loaf, you’ll realise it was all worth it.

Oh and (sorry to brag) but Dan Lepard saw a (rather blurry) picture of the loaf above on Flickr and commented ‘Excellent!’. Now if that isn’t a ringing endorsement for the Dutch Oven method and this formula, I don’t know what is.

After a pretty disappointing batch of rocket planted earlier in the Summer, we’re giving chard a go in our kitchen window box.

We’ve planted some Swiss and Rainbow, both of which seem to be settling in nicely, and all being well should provide us with tasty leaves throughout the Autumn and early winter.

They look pretty good too.

The Herb Saver pretty much does what it says on the tin. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of spending above the odds for a bunch of fresh herbs at the supermarket, only to find that two or three days later that they are wilted, soggy and unusable. For those of us without a River Cottage style herb garden and limited outside space, there aren’t many alternatives but to keep buying packaged herbs and dealing with the fact that some will go to waste. Until now.

The Herb Saver gets round the wilting issue by keeping the herbs cool and hydrated. You fill the bottom reservoir with cold water,  stand your herbs upright (stalks down) in the water, close them into the ‘chamber’ and then pop into the fridge.

In our experience, the herbs will keep at least three times longer that usual, which has got to be a good thing, right? I’m sure you could achieve similar results with a jam jar, but it also looks good, and fits perfectly into our fridge door.

You can buy the Herb saver on Firebox for £13, which means after a few weeks it will have pretty much paid for itself. Recommended.

It’s been around for a while, but I first read about Jim Lahey’s ‘no knead bread‘ in a Saveur magazine when I was in New York last year. I’d already got the bread baking bug, and the idea of a loaf that required no kneading seemed a bit odd, even a bit sacrilegious. I did a bit of research on line, and found out that everyone raves about the loaf, and it basically put Lahey’s Sullivan Street Bakery on the map.

Anyway, it definitely got me interested. How could a loaf requiring so little work be so good? Life just isn’t like that. So I gave it a go. The loaf is cooked in a cast iron pot, a bit like an Australian damper, so you’ll need a Le Creuset or something similar for it to work.

Ingredients

3 cups (430g) flour
1½ cups (345g or 12oz) water
¼ teaspoon (1g) yeast
1¼ teaspoon (8g) salt
Olive oil
Rye flour (for dusting)

Method

Mix all of the dry ingredients in a bowl and mix together for a minute or so to form a ’shaggy’ dough. Transfer the dough to a larger bowl oiled with some olive oil. NB. the dough will expand to around 4 times the size, so make sure your bowl is big enough. Cover with clingfilm and let the dough develop for 12-18 hours at room temperature.

After this time the dough will be aerated. Remove it from the bowl and fold on itself once or twice. The dough is stickier than with regular bread, a bit like when making a sourdough, so be prepared to get a bit messy. Using dough scrapers is a good idea. Let the dough rest 15 minutes in the bowl or on the work surface, then try and shape into a ball. Generously coat a tea towel with rye flour, place the dough on the left hand side, scatter the dough with more flour, and then fold the towel over the top to cover it. Let rise for around 2 hours at room temperature, until more than doubled in size.

Preheat your oven to 230°C. Place a cast iron pot in it at least 30 minutes prior to baking to preheat. Once the dough has more than doubled in volume, remove the pot from the oven and put the dough in it. Shake from side to side so it fills the base. Cover with the lid and bake for 30 minutes, then remove the lid and bake for another 20 minutes or so uncovered, until the loaf is nicely browned. Take the loaf out and place on a wire rack to cool. I know this is going to sound a bit sad, but the loaf’s crust crackles as it cools, which is pretty exciting.

When you cut into the loaf, you won’t be disappointed. The crust is crisp, crunchy and satisfying, and the dough inside a cross between really good French bread and a Ciabatta. Honestly, its great. And for so little work. There is such a thing as a free lunch.

Two final notes. I cooked mine in an oval 27 cm pot, but think it would have worked better in the round 24 cm version. Secondly, I tried this recipe again at the weekend substituting the strong white flour with a ‘Farine Bise‘ that I bought in Paris, but it was much less successful. The crust was less impressive, and the dough much heavier. I guess it rises better with the plain white.

UPDATE: Tried the loaf again at the weekend in a smaller pot, with great results. Check out photos on my Flickr page here.

Then I came across ‘River Cottage Bread’; a small but sensible handbook on the subject, which has basically become my bread bible. The book contains lots of recipes for breads from standard loaves, to ciabatta, naan and beyond, which are great, but for me the most interesting part of the book is the more practical stuff.

From my limited experience, it seems to me that once you’ve got the basics of making dough down, you can freestyle to a certain extent. But the stuff that is more rigid, and vital to creating consistently good bread, are the techniques and tips, and thats why this  book has become so invaluable.

For example, the book explains that you need to try and re-create the conditions of a bakers bread oven as closely as possible in your own home. It recommends that as well as having your oven as high as possible for the initial baking process, that you should also have a tray of boiling water in the oven to generate steam, as this creates optimum conditions for the bread to rise. This is the sort of stuff that you don’t discover by trial error, and kind of need to know. As you might expect, there’s also lots of practical advice on rising, proving, how to prepare your dough properly for the oven and so on.

The other great thing about the book is that it has kept me motivated to keep baking. It’s honest with you, and manages your expectations. You’re not going to produce a Poilane loaf on your first attempt. Like most things in life, baking bread takes practice, but if you stick at it your results improve quickly. I’ve created a bit of a visual document of my progress over on my Flickr account.

If you want to get a copy, you can get one from River Cottage or Amazon here.

For the past couple of years my mate Ollie has been organising a hog roast, and last weekend was what has now been dubbed as ‘Hogfest 09′.

It’s basically a gathering for friends and family at his folk’s place in Shropshire, culminating in a hog roast. I know it all sounds a bit ‘River Cottage’, but for me escaping London and getting primal with a whole pig, a big fire and bunch of booze is my idea of a good weekend.  Ollie usually lives in Cairo where this kind of pork based entertaining doesn’t go down too well, so for him I think it’s also rare opportunity to feast on pork with impunity.

The preparation process is relatively simple. The pig gets scored all over with a Stanley Knife, given a good rub down with olive oil, and then sprinkled liberally with salt and pepper. No herbs or any other ‘fancy stuff’.

Cooking is a bit more complicated. The fire gets started at 5am, and then at 6 a barbecue pit of sorts is created using 2 sheets of corrugated iron, and by spreading the fire out into a hollow rectangular shape. The hog then gets mounted on a spit (bought on ebay and imported from the States no less)  and turned a quarter rotation every 5-10 minutes.

The fire’s heat should be more intense at the start to get the skin nice and crisp, this is pretty obvious when it happens, and then the rest of the cooking is slow and methodical. I think our pig was about 70 kilos and took around 12 hours to cook.

By 7pm (after a good half an hour resting) the meat was perfectly roasted. I had the honour of carving the beast, but after seeing it cook for so long my meat lust kind of took over and I went at it a bit like a demented cavemen butcher. It tasted amazing. Lovely salty crackling on top, sweet,  smokey, tender meat underneath. Totally worth the time and effort.

There are some more pictures of the lucky pig and the rest of the day here, and if you fancy doing it yourself there’s some ‘How To’ help here.