Baking Days

Bread has always held a fascination for me. I think the smell is what really clinches it. The smell of toast on a wet morning, or the crusty, freshness in the air that draws people to the door of the high street bakery are smells that speak to everyone, high or low. You can faff about with it but at its most basic, bread is the stuff of life and a birthright. Did you know that in the Middle Ages in Britiain, if a baker was caught selling bad bread he could be publicly ridiculed and banned from baking, by law?

So you can imagine my excitement when I pulled up outside Weymouth's Pheonix Bakery at three in the morning, for a day apprenticeship under master baker Aiden Chapman. Aiden set up shop on the breezy Weymouth seafront in the soaked summer of last year to offer holiday makers and locals something in the way of consolation. Reception to him has been warming ever since. He says that this is only the start, and that after a few years he want to start to educate his client base in the ways of some different specialty breads, to get them exited about sourdough and rye. This is just the beginning.

Considering the ungodly hour, you might expect a little early morning lethargy, but not here. The pace is frantic. After a double espresso (a sweet aromatic blend, developed specifically for him), the loud music starts up and the baking begins. We are sliding across the bakery floor, operating mixers, shaping doughs, all at break neck speed, all whilst discussing the merits of reggae or Hugh Fearnley. I didn't count, but I would guess that morning Aiden had three loaves on-the-go, along with a batch of croissant dough and puff pastry! He explains everything clearly, expressing his opinions strongly and stating his reasons without embarrassment. Despite the time pressure, he is also always calm and patient, recognizing a beginner. Molding bread, for instance, is quite a knack to grasp, but Aiden takes his time to demonstrate and correct. If its not right, its not right and he won't let you bake less than perfect bread, but neither does he insult your pride or belittle you. He simply shows you again, calmly and slowly.

Soon the loaves are in the ovens and that scent starts to leak into the room. All the dreariness of a cold, dark winters morning is instantly gone, replaced by the ready-brek kid inner wholesomeness of the process going on about me. Whilst some loaves bake and others prove, there are small breaks, for more coffee and Aiden takes the chance to assume his trademark position, leaning against the door frame of his bakery, cigarette in hand. Later on we make use of these respites to quality control one of our croissants straight from the oven. Let me tell you there is nothing like it! Aiden doesn't sweeten his, believing that the flavour should come from the jam or butter, or other filling, but instead adds a little sourdough to the mix for the croissants intrinsic flavour. They are flakey, soft and have a deeper, more interesting taste that the standard packaged croissant. This is the kind of croissant you've got to take your time over, to get to know and build a relationship with. Eating one of these babies is the start of a two minute relationship, not a quick scoff. Straight from the oven they reward your attentions with warm, steamy, buttery pride in everything they are (The moment is captured above in the photo).

Outside of these the pace does not relax and during the day we make the entire range of Aiden's stock; bread, cakes, rolls, bars, brownies, pastries, the lot.There is so much to take in and the pace is so fast, that there is no time to feel tired. In fact on the drive home I can't get rid of the buzz! It's like you've been cycling all day and you climb into bed to sleep, but your legs still want to pedal. I keep looking for the next loaf to make, and the next oven to check. In this it looks like I'm alone though, because for Aiden, it seems effortless. He just returns to his oh-so-cool position on his shop front. Its clear the bakery is him in his element.

Aiden has baked in many places in his time, but you can tell that it's here that he has found his bakery. He is the only baker at Pheonix, working 6 days a week, but you can tell that he loves every minute of it. In his 22 years, he has manned all manner of bakeries and its clear he has strong opinions about what a bakery should be and how bread should be baked. For instance, Aiden always uses the overnight sponge method to bake his bread. (This is where flour, water and yeast are mixed together the night before to activate the yeast, making for a stronger rising "push" and a more developed flavour-like that of the croissants). Other bakers might save time by skipping this stage and let the dough rise without this gestation period. Although the hours are long, it must be refreshing that the only person he need answer to is himself.

This having been said, for the apprentice, the day can be a little intimidating. Because Aiden has so much experience and is strongly independent, he naturally has strong opinions. Prepare to have your perception of certain other artisan bakeries shattered! The thing is that he speaks a lot of sense. Never is his point not thoroughly explained or unreasonable. He bases his view on past experience and prior knowledge. If Aiden refrains from operating in a certain way there is a history to it. He is passionate about how he bakes because he has experienced all the different ways going about it. He talked about night baking, the practice of baking through the night so there is fresh bread in the morning, and how horrible and inhumane it is for the bakers themselves. Surely getting up early and working fast is a must be a better alternative to becoming nocturnal. Bread, in his opinion, is for everyone, even the baker.

Finally, all this is underwritten by the quality of his bread. I suppose I need not say, it's fantastic. Straight from the oven, the loaves are soft, even after 4 or 5 days, and the flavours are robust. Where olive oil should be tasted, olive oil is tasted, where nutty spelt is used, nutty spelt is evident. As for cakes, there is great variety and quality in the shop, with something for everyone's sweet tastes. A particular favorite is the Eccles cakes, but for the more adventurous, the menu is ever changing, including East European treats, Italian inspired biscuits, or more modern healthy options.

To sum up, the apprentice day Aiden offers is great value and a fantastic opportunity to witness a true artisan at work. If you are an aspiring baker his methods and pace will be of especial interest, but even if you have no aspiring career goals in that direction, the experience is fascinating and well worth it.

Jane Pettigrew's Crumpets

For quite some time now there has a book called "Jane Pettigrew's Tea Time" hanging around in the recipe book stack. Occasionally I would have a flick though with a mind to clearing out books that were never used, but this one is so sweet that I hadn't the heart. In my most recent attempt to remove some of the accumulated junk, I came across it again and fell to flicking through.
It really is a lovely book. It is now out of print and only available on Amazon's used site, but within its covers there are explanations of how to brew tea, a little social history of tea and recipes for the perfect high tea at any time of year. She covers sandwiches, cakes, bread, snacks, canapés, all the different types of tea, with a daintiness that is almost touching. In her chapter on sandwich she gives the reader suggestions for types for which types of bread and butter should be used with each filling, and whether or not the crusts should be left on or off. Jane is a strong advocate for tea time as "a restful, social occasion with the refinements of a pretty table cloth, napkins, fine china and a vase of flowers on the table", and continues to campaign through tea master-classes and her blog on www.worldteanews.com.
Her recipes include some real old favourites, the much lauded stuff of a past age. This book belongs really in a Beatrix Potter books or in Mr Jeeves' day case. Specifically, I was most exited about eccles cakes, cornish fairings, maccaroons, oat bread and crumpets. So I finally decided to get going and try one. After much agonizing I chose crumpets, because I have honesty never seen anything but a pre-packaged crumpet from Warburtons. In any case this isn't really something I'm into, so I decided to try it out for myself.
My first attempt was a bit of a disaster. I attempted the recipe with improvised crumpet rings, made from cut up baked bean cans, and this was a big mistake.The crumpets stick too much to the metal,m because it is ridged and there are far too many sharp edges for my liking. I've seen recipes on the internet using old tuna cans, with top and bottom removed, but I found pastry rings were the best. In addition to this I would advocate letting the batter rise four times rather than Jane's three times, as this makes for a far better bubbly crumb in the crumpet.

Ok here goes:
Ingredients
350g plain flour
dash of sugar
the smallest pinch of salt
25g fresh yeast (it would probably work with dried but I haven't tried)
425ml warm milk
150ml warm water
2 medium, beaten eggs

Makes about 20, depending on your rings.

Mix the dry ingredients together in a bowl. Dissolve the yeast in a little of the warm milk. Then whisk all ingredients together to form a smooth batter. Leave in a warm place for 30-45 mins. Go and watch some "Yes Minister" to get into the mood.

The mix should have a sort of foamy top to it now, if not move it to somewhere warmer and wait a bit longer. Once this top is achieved, grab the whisk again and knock it back down to size. Leave for 30 mins to recover the head, and repeat the process. Repeat twice more after this.

Heat a heavy frying pan over a medium hob with a little butter. Let it achieve a nice even temperature across the pan. Place your crumpet rings on the pan, leaving a little space for flipping them over and poking them around a bit. Make sure they are really well greased.
Spoon in your batter, perhaps two tablespoons per ring, depending on your rng size. Remember they will rise so don't over fill, after the fist couple you will find the right amount.

Let them cook for about 6-8 mins, until the batter is set, and bottom is nicely browned and big bubbles have broken the surface.

Once crumpets look thus, pop them out of their rings and flip them over. They will probably need some encouraging with a palate knife. Let the top brown slightly for 6-8 mins and let them cool on a rack.
Regrease the rings and repeat until all the batter is used up.

Tuck into your crumpets immediate, or save them till breakfast, either way make sure to toast them and eat them with unhealthy amounts of salted butter.




All in all, Jane Pettigrew opens a window through time, so we can view the accumulated habits of an imperial nation, come four o'clock in the afternoon. The daintiness with which it approaches its subject is something that is very rare in todays world and it is lovely to find literature of this ilk hiding in the clutter of our lives.

Brandy Blackcurrents. - YES!

Just a quick note to keep the blog ticking over.
I don't know about anyone else, but I love fruity flavored alcohol. Juniper draws me to gin, grapes draw me to grappa and don't get me started on calvados, wine, cyder, scrumpy or perry. What I really want to talk about are those home made concoctions that appear in all their might at this time of year. In my particular area of rural Dorset it's all about sloe gin, and every household has its own mix, vintage and method. In my household, we've just strained off the cassis, which is a black current flavoured brandy, famously combined with champagne to make the apperitiv, kier royale.
There's just something about those acidic fruits that marries so well with booze. It's not a British thing either. I spent a very happy dolce course in a vineyard in Tuscany quaffing cherry flavored grappa. These beverage gems are universal, crossing the globe as well as situations. Where would you be on a cold, rain soaked shoot without a warming tipple of sloe gin in your hip flask, but equally what else is better than a Kier Royale or a Sloe Fizz on a warm summers evening or cozied up to a woodburnr in midwinter?
But I diverge from my point. I come to you today with a plea.
Now we've strained this liqueur off, we have delicious cassis, and punchy black currents filled with brandy. As a child of wide spread media hysteria about wastage, excess, and shortages, I am arguing for the salvation of those fruit you use to flavour your delicious bottles of forty percent proof. Yes, the liquid is brilliant, but so too is the fruit you strain off, with perhaps the exception of the sloe. Don't compost these little beauties and certainly don't throw them away! Once strained you have in your hands one of the simplist puddings you can get. To give you a recipe would be to patronize you, dear reader, so I will just say this;
They're great with yoghurt, ice cream, crushed biscuits, in smoothies, trifles, on top of warm brownies with cream cheese, with porridge, as a garnish and possibly even in salads. Chutneys, sauces, ice creams, froghurts, coulis.... The list is extensive if not endless.

To illustrate my point I'll leave this post by returning to that Italian vineyard.
Picture a long table outside, filled with loud singing italians and befuddled english speakers. We'd just finished the year's harvest and having had a gargantuan first four courses, washed down with plenty of the vino, are feeling content and merry. Then a quiet descends on the group, as a man stands up, walks to a nearby shed and withdraws from it two preserving jars. The man is clearly aged, with a shock of light grey hair and a pot belly, but emanates toughness in his deportment and mien. Eyes follow his steady hands as the jars are cracked open and from them are spooned cherries into plastic cups, which are passed around the table. These little juice bombs have been sitting in firewater grappa for at least a year and are probably strong enough to go three rounds with Mike Tyson. As each one is punctured, it explodes, releasing all the power of the Mother Nature onto the taste buds. The table erupts back into conversation, loud, crude songs and other such jollity.
These little cherries will be with me as long as I live and are an example of the emphasis I found placed on food and friendship in Italy.
So don't throw away those pokey strained fruits, marvel in them and celebrate them. I will now return to my black currents, with creme fraiche and crumbled biscuit.