The Joy of Baking Artisan, Hand-crafted Breads

Artisanal breadbaking may sound high-falutin' or somehow out of the reach of average folks, but it is a highly entertaining hobby that can have very satisfying results- not only for the proud bread baker, but for family, friends, coworkers and anyone with whom you share your freshly baked loaves.

When I first decided to bake my own bread a few years ago, I was probably bored and in need of a new hobby. At the time, all I knew about breadbaking was that it required yeast in little square packages, that you had to knead the dough and let it rise several times, punching it down in between (what fun!) and that you ended up with a beautiful, aromatic loaf of rectangular bread that would cause people to oooh and ahhhh for a bite.

Before embarking upon my new hobby I did a little online research and made a startling discovery: one could bake a type of bread that was more creative and artistic than the regular loaves of white breads I was dreaming of. These loaves did not use commercial yeast, but rather "wild yeasts" from the air. Thus I was introduced to the artisan world of sourdough bread baking.

Of the books I encountered about the art of bread baking, I found Peter Reinhart's 2001 book The Bread Baker's Apprentice the most visually appealing. Reviews of the book were highly positive- in fact, Reinhart has won awards for this beautiful and informative book, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in artisan bread baking. Despite my amateur status, I found the book easy to follow and quite intriguing, with lovely photographs and clear instructions.

Reinhart's book is not the only one I read. I greatly enjoyed Nancy Silverton's 1996 book "Breads from the La Brea Bakery," whose instructions I used to make my first sourdough starter. The process of building a starter can take up to two weeks, but this culture of wild yeast, when well cared for and regularly fed, can be used for the rest of your life!

Silverton's starter sounds quite scientific, but for the beginner it isn't necessarily a bad thing to be precise in measurements and temperature gauging. I always remember, however, that risen breads were baked before our modern technology, and therefore the experienced baker learns to prepare a starter and to maintain it using senses of sight, smell and touch. I find it best to follow instructions in the beginning and to let myself be more free when I have more experience.

If you are new to making sourdough starters, you may be put off by the smell of fermentation. It can be pretty brutal! But the joy of seeing this ugly, smelly combination of flour and water (and organic grapes, if you use Silverton's recipe) transform into a clean-looking, healthy and aromatic sourdough starter will be your first victory on the path to bread baking. I find the process to be an exciting combination of both art and science in my own kitchen.

The "birth" of my sourdough starter was a proud moment, so I named it "Pauline"- a humorous nod towards some of my beloved relatives, but also an acknowledgement that a starter is a living, breathing culture that needs to eat, and which "gives birth" to many loaves of wonderful breads. Referring to my starter as Pauline makes the baking experience more personal. I feel terrible if I don't feed Pauline her doses of flour and take pains to prevent her from getting weak or becoming overly sour. Over time you will come to know your starter based on the results of your baking, and you will know when and how much to feed it.

I can't remember the first bread I baked with Pauline, but it was likely a basic loaf of free-formed white bread. One of the things I love about artisan bread baking is the hand work; the mixing by hand, the feel of the dough at various stages of mixing and kneading. I use thermometers to help gauge room, oven and dough temperatures, and an oven for baking, of course, but I leave the electric dough mixers and bread machines for others. The journey of bread baking is as important to me as the taste of the final product, and I don't want to speed it up or miss a thing.

Bread baking can be tricky and is definitely a skill. You can break a sweat kneading and punching, and you have to carefully maintain the proper temperatures and dough consistencies for the particular results you want. I love when I finally reach a point in the dough creation where the consistency matches the description found in Reinhart's book- I feel very much like a "true" baker at this point. But at this stage the work is only partially complete. There is still rising, pre-shaping, shaping, proofing, "retarding," and sometimes even refrigeration of the dough before you bake it. There are tools to have ready, time to set aside, and constant cleaning of your workspace. I don't know why, but classical music makes all this bread baking labor fun for me- something lively by Vivaldi, Telemann or Bach helps get me in the mood for all of the work involved.

When I am ready to bake and have my oven set up, the excitement begins again! I love to use professional bread baskets to create artisan breads with woven patterns or other appealing textures. Preparing these aesthetically appealing loaves- round, oblong or free-form- is a very satisfying, as I anticipate the appearance of the baked loaf. I know that I can still screw up my bread at this point through poor handling or by executing poorly the knife cuts that guide the bread shape during baking.

Finally, though, the bread is ready to enter the oven-another bit of science where air movement, moisture and heat cause the yeast to raise the bread to its proper height for the final time. Too much or too little moisture, too low or too high a temperature, and too short or too high a baking time can cause problems.

Removing a baked loaf from the oven is a wonderful experience: the carefully browned loaf with the hardened crust and enticing aroma represents perhaps weeks of hard work, beginning with the sourdough starter begun some time back. This is the culmination of much loving labor. I am dying to know what it looks like inside but I must let it cool, and I listen impatiently as it crackles and further develops its unique flavor. If you have little seeds on the bread some of them may become tiny missiles, popping off as the crust adjusts during cooling.

Silverton cautions bakers to see every loaf as a lesson, and this is good advice. I have baked breads that have had white spots in them, ciabattas with embarrassingly small holes, and loaves that refused to rise. I have learned from all of my mistakes and always go on to make more creative loaves. My favorites are ciabatta, asiago, and rosemary olive oil. These breads seem to provoke the most joy from those I present them to, and this is the true reason I bake. I love to make people happy with my artistic creations.

My advice to would-be bread bakers is to dive in. It gets easier every time you bake a loaf. I usually bake two simultaneously so that I can make sure I like what I see. If one loaf looks, smells and tastes wonderful, I know I can give the other away with confidence and pride.

It still amazes me what one can create with flour, water and heat. Hand crafted items made with love are, to me, much better than expensive, fancy, imported things whose care I have to be anxious about. And being creative is such a stress-reliever, although I can overdo it sometimes. I've been known to buy heavy cream in order to make my own butter for my breads! But we'll leave that story for another time....