Orton's Colonial Cottage Loaf

Mildred Orton's Cottage Bread

I promised I would back up one recipe, and make Mildred's recipe for what she called a "Colonial Cottage Loaf".  I skipped this one to make her Rye Bread.  This loaf also contains rye, but only 33%; the rest is whole wheat, and corn meal.  This was my experience:

Ingredients

• 283g sifted Cornmeal 33%
• 201g sifted Rye Flour 33%
• 210g siftedWheat 34%
• 684g total sifted Flours 100%
• 237g Scalded Milk 35%
• 248g Hot Water  36%
•  60g Warm Water  9%
• 545g total hydration 80%
• 35g shortening 5%
• 38g molasses 6%
• 12g salt 1.75%
• 8g yeast  1%

Method

I don't understand why everything has to be sifted twice: I can understand sifting to measure something, or the weights will be off, and sifting is going to make things fluffy.  But we are not sifting material to take out the bran and germ.  Far from it: we toss that back in.

But I trust Mildred absolutely now.  I wouldn't deviate from her recipe because I assume I know better.  Perhaps there is a hidden reason, and who knows?  I once thought that perhaps sieving might align the bran along a certain orientation that will not slice as much gluten.  It can't be that, for this recipe, since the gluten that forms is not the long stringy kind that wheat by itself provides.  But perhaps the reason for seiving everything twice is something like that.  Unfortunately, whatever the secret was, Mildred is not around to tell us any more.

The yeast doesn't have much time to get going before it encounters salt in the wet solution, but thereafter it gets lots of opportunity to gorge on sweet stuff: there is molasses, and there is amylase, and all the other sugars of the various flours and meals.

 The four-fold folding did make my dough "light, soft and spongy", but never once did anything resembling wheat gluten every appear in this dough.  Nothing even similar to rye gluten could be detected.  It remained gritty throughout, the effect of the cornmeal more than the various brans I was stirring.  But every time I folded it down, up it came again.

First fold:

Second fold:

Third fold:

Forth fold:

The 'Kneading' was more of a folding with a bowl scraper.  I didn't feel that gluten was developing at the time, but judging from these pictures, I guess it was, a little.  Things did smooth out a bit.

I was a bit uneasy about the final rise in the liberally buttered casserole dish, as per her instructions.  I've had bad fortune in the past, putting dough into unheated casserole dishes.  But I remain her devoted padawan.  Now I follow implicitly.  I might ask why, continuously, but I will do her bidding.

She-who-must-be-obeyed said to bake at 425 degrees F for 15 minutes.  I baked during this time with the casserole dish on, although Mildred does not specifically say to do so.  Then the bread is baked for another 30 minutes at 375 degrees F.  I had the lid off for this time period.

And voila: the bread fell out without so much as a shake, when I upended the dish.

Once again, Mildred, I am humbled and very impressed.

Results

The loaf saw no oven spring.  It needs a casserole dish to keep its shape while baking.  My dish was fairly shallow, and it didn't need to be.  I think I used a 2 quart dish, when she specifically asked for a 1 quart dish.  I was afraid it would rise under the lid, like Lahey's loaves do.  But this one did not.

I am wondering if perhaps I overproofed the dough.  The first of the 4 punch downs and turns didn't take place until I was one hour and 15 minutes into the bulk fermentation, which Mildred says takes 2 hours (but it is rather unclear in her short recipe whether I should have waited 2 hours before the first turn, and then another 2 hours in between each turn, or whether I should have all 4 turns done by the two hour mark.  Suffice it to say, I should have been watching closer to my dough, to see if it had doubled.

Very difficult to get a decent shot of this bread in the dim light of spring rain this early morning. 

The taste of this loaf is quite mild.  Despite the molasses, it is not that sweet.  Mildred describes it as wonderfully nutty, but I have tasted nuttier, and more wonderful, loaves.  This bread reminds me of cornbread.  I guess my feeling is that the taste of the corn is predominant.  The scent of the molasses is now gone, the day after baking, when I cut into it.  It is not a bad loaf, but certainly not one of Mildred's best, in my opinion.

Notes to Myself

• It doesn't seem that gluten is developing with the many and manifold folds.  So why do it?  Why punch it down four times like this, only to keep building it up?  Does it put airiness into the loaf?  Howso?
• Once again, I ask: why the shortening?  Can I do without it?  What about butter, or some other oil?  Is it even necessary?
• The cornmeal gives this loaf a rather interesting texture, but I'm not at all impressed with the lack of gluten structure.  Recently I've developed an antipathy with corn, if not an outright aversion.  Why not try this recipe with a different meal than cornmeal (say, flaxmeal?)
• The molasses gives this bread a distinct colour and scent.  I'm not so sure I like it.  Would it work with honey?  With agave?  With maple syrup?   
• I am considering ways to improve this recipe, building on the basic ingredient percentages and method.  But this first attempt has to go to following Mildred's method very closely, because I want to see what she saw.
• Use a 1 quart round casserole dish for this, so it will stay upright.
• Will I have to invest in some photography lights to photograph my bread?

A 50:50 Triticale and Spelt loaf

Triticale and Spelt Together in One Bread

The other day I had some sourdough from the triticale and spelt bake-off left over, so I decided to bake a loaf that used both Spelt and Triticale.  My limiting factor, it turned out, was not the sourdough but the triticale flour.  I only had 579g of it left.

I combined that with 579g of spelt flour to make a 50:50 mix, and likewise used half and half of the 2 sourdoughs.

Ingredients

• 50% Triticale flour 579g
• 50% Spelt flour 579g
• 100% Flour total 1158g
• 68% water 788g
• 1.58% salt 12g
• 20% starter 232g

Spelt kernels

Triticale kernels

I also cracked some spelt and triticale seeds to put on the top of my loaf.  I used 3 T of spelt, which turned out to be 45g; the same volume of triticale was only 38g, so I bumped that up a bit to the same weight of 45g.  I tried to crack it in my blender, but that doesn't work, so I ran it through my hand-mill on a loose setting.

Method

Same as before.  I put sourdough in water then water in the mixed flours.  A 30 minute rest then mix in the salt.  A 2 hour bulk fermentation in a warm place. 

At this point I did a few stretch and folds in the bowl, sprinkling the cracked seeds on top before beginning.

I intended on making one single large boule, but I found this dough really difficult to work with, retaining all the gooeyness of yesterdays's spelt loaf without any of the nice structure of the triticale loaf.

It was as if the two flours had brought out the worst in each other, in terms of workability.

So I ended up dividing the dough just to make it somewhat manageable.  The boule was not well shaped, and I had my doubts whether it would hold its shape on the hot stone: I was afraid that it would flatten out like yesterday's spelt loaf did.  I had liberally coated the cloth with flour this time, but still, I had no confidence in the dough to firm up.

So the second half of the dough I did a few more stretch and folds on the counter and then flopped it into a buttered tin.  These were given another 2 hours to rise back up, and then were baked as before, at 460 degrees for 45 minutes, the first 30 of which was under a roasting pan.

Results

As suspected, the free-form loaf spread out too much once it left the confines of the basket.  It turned into a giant, thin pancake.

The loaf in the tin, on the other hand, stayed erect, and both loaves turned this rich brown colour when taken from the oven.  The scent of the freshly baked loaves was interesting -- quite different from either of the loaves yesterday.  I thought of freshly sawn wood, the same scent I knew as a child while standing in my grandfather's saw mill, watching him cut logs.

The next day I sliced into the best of the two loaves, and found a nice interesting crumb, a nice moist bread.  I popped some in my mouth, expecting the wonderful nuttiness of the triticale to lend a special note to the unique spelt taste.  And…

Nothing.

How can two flours that produce wonderful bread on their own combine and cancel out each other's tastes? 

I don't get it.  I am chewing the 50:50 triticale and spelt loaf and it is like I am eating something tasteless, something mealy.  What is up with that?

I'll eat it, with gratitude for the sustenance.  But I'll never make this particular combination again.

I might just as well be eating the sawdust from my grandfather's mill.

Inside the house, the colour of the loaf is suggestive of rich chocolate.  Outside in the light of day, even the dull light after a rain, the loaf merely looks washed out.

Notes to Myself

• While it looks good, this is a tasteless bread.  Don't combine spelt and triticale together, at least not in a 50:50 ratio.  Blah.
• Seeds really ought to be soaked well, or boiled before being added to dough.  Added 'raw' like this, they don't add anything of interest.  More Blah.
• Hey, why don't you try to grow some triticale in your garden to see how it fares?  I understand that chickens will eat it (unlike rye, which apparently chickens are not partial to), so even if you don't end up harvesting it yourself, it certainly won't go to waste.