Oven Spring – There Is NOT Just One Secret to It!

I was watching a video the other day where this one dude was claiming that there was one secret to great oven spring. And while I won’t call the video out specifically just to play nice, I felt that his video was a bit misguided. In it, he claimed that the one secret thing that will give you great oven spring is proper fermentation; specifically, not fermenting too long. He then went on to say that once you mix, you don’t have to do anything like kneading and folding because the fermentation process will develop the gluten.

I will say this: He is not totally wrong. I’ve done 93% hydration whole wheat loaves that required zero folding because the dough was so wet, but did need a long, almost 2-day ferment in the fridge to properly develop the gluten. But the problem I had with what that dude was instructing was that he made it seem as if it was the ONLY thing that’s important in proper oven spring. It’s not. There are several factors that contribute to it in addition to proper fermentation.

To be fair, he did go on to say shaping and steam are also big factors in good oven spring, but the focus of his video was mainly on proper fermentation. Proper fermentation is absolutely critical to good oven spring. But any experienced baker will tell you that there are lots of different factors that contribute to great oven spring beyond proper fermentation such as dough structure development (folding and shaping) and baking environment (steam and a super-hot oven) to name a few. Sure, it starts at proper fermentation, but there’s so much more that will ensure you get good oven spring.

Happy Baking!

A New Approach to a Lame: The Wire Monkey Lame

Though I haven’t been doing artisan bread making for very long, I’ve come to understand that scoring is a really important step in the process to control the nature of the oven spring. And having a good tool for scoring is super-important. To that effect, I’ve made my own lame and even purchased a gorgeous stainless steel “professional” lame. I’ve been getting better at scoring, but in the back of my mind, I’ve felt the traditional lame is a bit unwieldy.

One of the main issues I’ve had with the traditional lame is that I have a natural tendency to lay the lame down, parallel to the surface of the bread. This causes the side of the blade to catch on the skin of the bread, sometimes tearing it – eek! And though I’m much better at it than I was in the beginning, there have been times where I’ve just ended up removing the razor blade and slashing with the blade. It’s not safe, but I have much more confidence slashing with the blade held closer.

Enter the Wire Monkey Lame.

I first found out about this lame from a couple of Proof Bread videos on YouTube. The owners, Jon and Amanda, made a point of calling out this particular lame, so I checked out the Wire Monkey web site and got the UFO Corbeau. One of the cool things about Wire Monkey lames is that they’re all made from sustainable materials. The Corbeau that I got is made from 100% recycled paper and food-safe resin. I think it’s what’s known as RichliteTM which is a fantastic material. One of my guitar’s fretboards is made of the material and it feels like ebony! So cool!

The shape of the lame is – in a word – perfect. Its diameter is the same as the length of a razor blade, so when you’re not using it the razor blade tucks right into the lame. It is SO easy to hold and I feel as if I have so much more control over slashing while holding it!

Update 8/1/2020: When I first received the lame the other day, I was right in the middle of a poolish ferment, and didn’t get to use it till this morning because I also did a 16-hour proof on the same dough.

So what’s the verdict? Okay… THIS LAME IS AN ABSOLUTE GAME-CHANGER! I love that I don’t have to worry about my attack angle as with a traditional lame, where I’d often catch the side of the razor blade because I laid the lame too parallel to the dough. With this lame, I feel incredibly confident in scoring my bread! Look at the results:

What an ear! That was scored just this morning with the Corbeau lame! It’s a thing of beauty!

They’re not cheap, starting at $27.95 (I paid $35.95 for mine). But they’re totally worth it! If you’ve struggled with scoring, I can guarantee that you won’t struggle with this lame!

For more information go to the Wire Monkey website. They’ve got some really cool designs!

Wire Monkey lames are the original, made in the USA lames. There are lots of cheaper alternatives that do the same thing. And though I’m not one of those “Buy Only American” types of folks, I do want to support artisans where I can and not the companies that rip off designs.

My Favorite Kitchen Tool

Years ago, I got some swag from our water company, among which was a flexible plastic scraper (shown above). I laugh every time I use it because of the “Prevent Sewage Backups” tagline. But irrespective of what’s written on the scraper, I use all the time, and not just for bread.

When I started making artisan bread, I was buying what I researched to be the essentials: A digitial scale, a baker’s lame, a few different kinds of loaf pans, etc., etc.. But when it came to a scraper, I put off getting a metal bench scraper because I could do practically everything with my handy-dandy, flexible plastic scraper! It’s SO useful that I’ve even used it to repair drywall!

The fact that it’s flexible is why I love it so. I can bend it to fit pretty much any bowl curvature; something rigid scrapers just can’t do. And though there’s a nifty, small scraper at Bed Bath and Beyond, I’ve seen it, and it just seems a bit too small for my tastes. But whatever, a great plastic scraper is an invaluable tool for working with dough.

As for metal bench scrapers, I have two of them: one 6″ scraper/chopper and a 12″ that I use for tensioning longer loaves (it works great).

Sourdough Is a Technique?

So I was watching this LONG video by Proof Bread on YouTube a few days ago. It’s over an hour long and when I saw the length of the video, I thought to myself, I’ll never last… But I’ll be damned if I didn’t watch it from start to finish and even skipped back to certain sections to help me understand his technique better.

In one segment, Jonathan Przybyl, the baker, said something to the effect of, “People seem to think that sourdough is a taste. It’s not. Sourdough is a technique.” I wish I could remember exactly in the video where he said it, but no matter. That phrase struck a real chord with me. It really helped me affirm my own approach to bread making, and helped resolve something with which I’ve struggled since I started making bread seriously: What really is sourdough?

To me, sourdough has been less about a particular taste and more about the craftsmanship in producing an artisan loaf from flour, water, salt, and a leavening agent. I had tasted lots of bread made from “sourdough” starter that, though it certainly had an earthy, fermented taste, it wasn’t all that sour. I struggled with this whole concept of sourdough because there just seemed to be a disconnect between the ingredients and the finished product. So when I heard Jonathan say that “Sourdough is a technique,” I felt I was on the right track with my thinking.

For those that know me, they also know that I haven’t made any sourdough yet; at least in the present. I actually used to make a whole wheat sourdough from an old starter that I got from the TA in my Microbiology class at UC Davis. I had it for years. But at the time, I was just a casual baker. But now that I’ve become serious about the craft, I’m taking my time getting to making bread from a sourdough starter.

It’s not that I don’t use a starter at all. In fact, I regularly make bread with a poolish or biga. In fact, I have a poolish that’s bubbling away right now, getting ready for baking tomorrow morning. For me, this whole artisan bread thing is all about mastering the manipulation of dough. I’m experimenting – a lot – finding the right combination of flours, learning how to properly shape. I’m trying to get a feel for the dough and also how it should look as I knead or fold it. To me, that’s the craft.

But also, there’s a lot of skill in maintaining a starter. I’m getting there. But I’m not there yet.

Redemption!

After my epic fail this past Saturday, I knew that I had to make up for it. But though those loaves definitely turned out wonky, they still tasted really good, and the family didn’t complain, though they did have a good laugh about my mutant bread (shown below).

But as I shared in my previous post, I did understand what I had done wrong. So given that, I had to put those lessons to the test.

First of all, I made absolutely sure my baking stone was set to go, and I pre-heated it for well over an hour before I baked. I also made sure that my loaves were completely proofed before I even considered baking them.

For my baguettes, I used a different shaping technique than what I have been using because I felt that the original technique I learned didn’t create enough tension on the surface. So I watched this video featuring master baker Scott Megee from The Artisan Crust channel:

I tell you what! That technique is the S%&T! I love the stitching technique that Scott uses. I did that and it I felt that it really gave me a more even distribution of the dough through the loaf.

Pre-shaping is so important! So is the bench rest immediately after the pre-shape. I also realized that I didn’t bench rest either loaf for very long on Saturday’s fail. But this time I took a good 20 minutes to let the dough settle down before I did the final shape. That combined with the new shaping technique made both loaves come out perfect!

As for the boule, I couldn’t be happier. I was a little concerned at the start of the bake because I kind of misjudged placing the dough on my stone and I had to pull it out, then reposition and all that movement kind of collapsed the loaf. But luckily it didn’t affect the oven spring.

I feel redeemed! Both the baguettes and the boule fit my archetype of artisan bread. The crust on both kinds are crackly with good ears; especially on the baguettes!

Bread making to me is very much like playing golf. I could be playing like crap and getting super-angry while I duff or skull or hook or slice. Then I hit a perfect shot. The club strikes the ball right in the middle of the sweet spot. I feel no resistance or impact and the ball shoots off like a rocket, landing smack dab in the middle of the fairway. And with that one shot, all my anxiety and frustration just goes away. It’s redeeming!

Fails Make Us Better

While I’ve had some wonderful successes in my journey of artisan bread making, I’ve also had some massive fails. I want to be transparent because especially when I first started baking bread, though they tasted great, I wouldn’t exactly call them ideal. Luckily for me though, I haven’t produced any bricks or inedible loaves. But I have a certain aesthetic of what my bread should look and taste like. And to be completely honest, I’ve only reached that ideal a few times.

Most have come pretty close to my ideal, and I’ve been relatively happy with the results. But some, like the loaves shown in the pictures above, have come out looking like mutant spores from another planet! I baked them just yesterday (at the time of this writing) to try out my new Fibrament-D baking stone. From what I can tell, a few things went wrong.

First, based on the cross-sectional cut, it appears that my baking stone wasn’t hot enough. I can tell that because the bottom half of the loaf has a much tighter crumb than the top. This means that the ambient temperature was much higher than the stone and it made the loaves spring much more on top. The dark almost burned top also indicates that there was a huge differential in heat between the ambient air and the stone. So next time, I will spend more time heating the stone.

Second, I used convection baking as opposed to heating from the bottom. This circulates the air evenly through the oven. But I think if I used just normal baking, the heat would’ve radiated from underneath the stone (there’s about 1″ of clearance on either side of the stone). That probably would have helped control the ambient temperature and relied more on the stone as the main heat conductor.

Finally, based on how both loaves exploded, I think my loaves were under-proofed. The fact that they exploded in such an uneven way is a sure sign that the loaves were under-proofed and the yeast had way too much energy left. So I need to let them proof for a bit longer. But I have to admit that it’s still tough for me to tell when the loaves are fully proofed because with the wildly varying temperature of my kitchen, I have to constantly monitor the loaves.

In light of that, I recently purchased a mini-fridge at an auction that I’m using as a dough retarder. I’ve baked a few loaves thus far using a long, overnight ferment, and the results have been promising. Chilled dough is also MUCH easier to score!

Just this one fail has taught me so many new things and it is really helping me appreciate everything that goes into the whole artisan bread-making process!

100% Honey-Whole Wheat Bread Recipe

Here’s my recipe for a great-tasting bread that I love to make. I normally use local honey to add a slight sweetness, but if I don’t have it on hand, I replace it with an equal weight of brown sugar. I provide different hydration ratios to reflect the types of breads you can make. The 90% is excellent for making pan loaves. I use the 85% for making boules and batards, and use the 75% for hard rolls and buns.

Ingredients

All numbers are in grams.

Flour90%85%75%Gluten**SaltYeastHoney
Whole Wheat Flour*1000900850750502012227
3/4 Recipe75067563856338159170
1/2 Recipe50045042537525106113
Provided three hydration levels for water: 90%, 85%, 75%.

*Use fine or extra-fine grind of whole wheat flour. I myself prefer to use white whole wheat flour.

**Gluten = Vital Wheat Gluten. This is optional, but really helps in gluten development and oven spring. You can usually find this at a grocery store. My local Lucky carries Bob’s Red Mill brand.

Baker’s Percentages:

IngredientPercentage
Flour100%
Water90%, 85%,75%
Gluten5%
Salt2%
Yeast1.2%
Honey22.7%

As I mentioned in my article on moving to whole wheat flour, things take longer and you have to do more when you use whole wheat flour. This mainly has to do with the slow moisture absorbance and thus slower gluten development. I also discovered that it’s better to do all the fermentation and proofing with a colder dough, so having room in your fridge is important – or in my case, I got a mini fridge to act as a retarder.

Instructions

Day 1

Mix flour, vital wheat gluten until well-incorporated. If using brown sugar, add it at this step. Add water and honey and mix into a shaggy dough then let rest for at least a half-hour.

After the dough has autolysed sprinkle salt and yeast evenly over the top of the dough, then mix thoroughly. Work the dough until smooth.

If you used a stand mixer to mix, transfer to a large bowl and let it rest for 30 minutes; otherwise, just let it rest.

Every half-hour for the next two hours, fold the dough. You may not have to do this many. After folding check the strength of the dough by doing the windowpane test to see if it has enough strength. In my warm kitchen, I only had to do three folds.

After your last fold, allow the dough to rise for at least a half hour or until it has expanded about 30% to 40% of its original size.

Cover your bowl with plastic wrap or transfer to a container and place it in your fridge. If you used plastic wrap, make sure air can escape.

Day 2

“Day 2” can be the next day or up to a week out. The longer you let it sit, the more flavor will develop.

Remove the container from the fridge and allow it to warm to near room temperature (~2 hours).

Dump the dough onto your unfloured work surface, and using your bench scraper, pre-shape the dough into balls. Bench rest the dough for 30 minutes.

After bench resting, divide the dough and do your final shaping, either into a boule or batard. If I’m making loaf bread, I shape using the batard method.

If you do the full 1000 gram recipe, divide the dough into three or four. The three-quarter recipe can be made into two large loaves, and the half recipe is great for single, large loaf.

Once shaped, place in proofing baskets or well-greased pan loaf pans. If you don’t have proofing baskets, use a lightly-oiled bowl that’s dusted with flour.

Chill the dough for two hours in your fridge.

A hour before baking, heat your oven to 475o, making sure your baking stone or Dutch oven are also in the oven to warm up.

Remove proofed dough from containers and slash/score. No need to let it come to room temperature.

If using a Dutch oven, place dough in oven and bake for 20 minutes. Remove the lid, then bake for 10 more minutes or until crust is the desired color.

If using a baking stone and a metal pan for steam, place the loaf on the stone, and pour a cup of hot water into the pan. Remove the pan after 20 minutes, then continue baking for another 10 minutes or until the crust is the desired color.

Allow the bread to cool completely before cutting! I used to disregard this, but if you don’t allow it to cool, the interior will get gummy. Not good.

Making the Transition to Whole Wheat Flour

At the end of my Afternoon Batard recipe, I added a section on using whole wheat flour. I didn’t write it just to satisfy readers’ curiosity. For health and dietary reasons – and to be completely transparent, a strong suggestion from my doctor – I have had to start using whole wheat flour in my bread – at least 50% of my flour is whole wheat flour.

I have to admit that it has been a rather frustrating experience making the transition to whole wheat flour. Up to this point, I’ve invested hours – almost daily – in becoming proficient in making bread with white bread flour. And then having to make an abrupt turn; well, it wasn’t smooth and I really felt like I was going all the way back to square one. The transition is akin to a painter who has mastered watercolor moving to acrylic or oil painting. The basic principles of color and shading are similar, but the change in medium forces adjustments to the technique.

Luckily for me, bread making has become a bit of an obsession so I wasn’t going to be deterred from this setback. Also, just within a few tries of making a few different types of loaves, I started to get a feel for it. Here’s what I’ve learned thus far (and mind you I’m still learning but these things have gotten my bread back “normal”):

The grind of the wheat flour – no matter what kind you use – is critical. I started out using course-ground wheat flour. It tasted okay, but the texture was way too gritty, and the crumb was really, really closed, even if I used a 90%+ hydration and used a gluten helper such as vital wheat gluten or psyllium fiber. Fine or extra-fine grind is the best.

As for the type of wheat flour, I absolutely love working with white whole wheat flour. It tastes much sweeter than red whole wheat. I’ve only made one batch using this flour, but I’m hooked! The taste and texture of the bread instantly hooked me! The loaves I just made used absolutely zero added sugar (which many whole wheat recipes include). The white whole wheat has a sweetness to it that doesn’t need fortification.

With any wheat flour dough, everything takes longer or you do things more. You have to do the initial knead longer. The amount of folding doubles at the very least (this first batch, I folded it 6 times before I got the right tension in the dough). Fermentation takes longer as well – at least a 3-4 hour bulk at room temperature, though I got better results with a slow, overnight fermentation (I baked half my dough the first day, then baked the second loaf the next morning).

I found that even more so than with white flour, shaping a loaf and creating surface tension with whole wheat dough is even more critical. Furthermore, final proofing takes quite a bit longer. Even with my early attempts, I didn’t proof my loaves long enough and they sprung up way too fast! You want oven spring, but you want it to be slow and gradual.

For instance, this morning, I shaped and proofed my second loaf fresh out of the refrigerator. When I’ve done a slow ferment with white bread, after an hour and half, the dough would be ready. But with this whole wheat loaf? After an hour and a half, it still needs another half hour to proof – at least (I’m proofing it while I write this). Even my loaf yesterday (shown above) – I barely proofed it enough. After it was finished baking, I realized I probably should’ve proofed it longer.

So as I said in my afternoon batard recipe, going to whole wheat makes the process at the very least, an all day affair. But to be realistic, it’s better as a two-day affair. Mind you, those days don’t have to be consecutive. The thing about cold fermentation is that you can let it go for a few days. Given that, my process will be mixing and doing the initial knead the first day, then putting the dough in the fridge for at least 18-24 hours. So I’ll mix in the morning the first day, and when I want to make a loaf, I’ll grab a piece out of the fridge then shape, proof and bake on the next.

Please Ignore the Clock!!!

Every bread recipe, even the ones I’ve written, list times for various activities. Knead for ten minutes, two hours to bulk ferment, an hour to proof, etc. etc. But you have to bear in mind that the recipes were written according to specific conditions in the author’s kitchen.

When I read Ken Forkish’s book, “Flour Water Salt Yeast,” he was good at pointing out that even though he listed times for certain activities, the times were based on HIS kitchen and its ambient temperature. He warned that things will happen slower or faster depending on someone’s kitchen conditions.

For instance, I remember the first time I made a poolish. I let it sit out overnight as instructed. And when I made bread the next morning, it came out flat. What I didn’t account for was that it was a really warm night and the yeast and bacteria were completely exhausted. The bread tasted fine, but I ended up turning it into croutons.

This evening, I made a biga. But since it’s still the height of summer and I don’t run my air conditioner at night, the ambient temperature of my kitchen will probably be around 75-78 degrees. So my biga will probably be ready to use in 10 hours as opposed to 12-14 hours as Ken lists in his recipe. Given that, I mixed my biga at 9:30 PM. But more importantly, I’ll have to determine how “done” it is based on its appearance: It should have at least doubled or tripled in size and should be pockmarked with bubbles. We’ll see.

And that’s the point: With bread making, you have to go by sight and feel. If you use time for anything, use it for making a check on how things are going. And before I forget, if your kitchen is warm, your bread will proof quickly. We had a heat wave a couple of weeks ago and though I turned on my air conditioner, it was still over 80 degrees in my kitchen. I had rolled out baguettes and at that temp, they were proofed in less than 20 minutes, even though the recipe I was following said to proof for an hour!

So ignore the clock and listed times when you bake. Go by what you see and feel.

Breaking With Convention

This originally appeared at the end of my afternoon batard recipe, but after reading through it again, I decided that it deserved its own entry.

Conventional wisdom states that bread made with a pre-ferment like a poolish, biga, or levain is much more complex in flavor. It is. I’ve made bread with all the pre-ferments and I can attest to that. But complexity doesn’t necessarily mean bread made from pre-ferments is better, which tends to be the equivocation of complexity. I’ve tasted and made plenty of loaves with “complex” flavors that simply weren’t all that good in terms of texture or appearance. They may have tasted fine, but they were only okay when taken as a whole.

In my bread making journey, I’ve learned that making great bread is less a function of the leavening agent, and almost entirely a function of technique and understanding the ingredients with which I’m working and just as important, how the ingredients respond to my kitchen environment at the time I’m making bread.

For instance, because I like a slower to moderate fermentation rate, I adjust the amount of yeast depending on the temperature of my kitchen. In summer months, I tend to use a slightly smaller amount of yeast and cooler water. In colder months, I use a little more yeast and warmer water (by the way, it’s still a small amount and varies by a gram or so).

And to be clear, I almost always use roughly half the yeast than a recipe normally calls for (unless they suggest already using a small amount – like 2-3 grams) because I want the yeast to be helper, rather than relying on it entirely for fermentation. In my recipe, as opposed to a 1 or 2 hour rise, I promote 3 to 4 hours – or even an overnight rise in the fridge.

This allows the natural airborne bacteria to also come into play. It may be a relatively short time compared to doing a days-long fermentation, but even taking just this shorter amount of time has a huge effect on flavor development.

And then there’s the type of flour I use. Not all brands and types of flour are the same. Protein content differs, which affects the gluten network. Fineness differs which has an effect on texture. Absorption differs which will affect with the hydration ratio.

For instance, my flour of choice is King Arthur Special Patent flour. Though they say it’s best use for buns and enriched bread (brioche, etc.), I love it for making loaves. But it has a lower water absorption rate than the standard KA bread flour. So I usually take the hydration ratio down one or two percent from recipes that I see. If a recipe calls for 78% hydration, I’ll use a 75% or 76% ratio.

Furthermore, with the flour I use, I found that I have to work it a bit more to achieve the proper structure where it won’t collapse during proofing. And speaking of working the dough, that’s another technique that is absolutely critical to success. And the thing about working the dough is that while the mechanics can easily be taught, it really requires feeling the dough. So even though I do the initial mix in my stand mixer, I knead and/or fold my dough entirely by hand.

I guess the point is this: I always question whatever is the convention. It’s not to be purposefully contrary. It’s just that I want to push beyond the limits of the convention if it’s possible. I may discover that the convention is the way to go in my discovery process, but at least I’ll have discovered for myself what the limits are.

This is probably why I’ve resisted regularly using a levain. Everyone’s doing it, especially in this lockdown. They love their sourdough bread. I like sourdough, but I don’t want it to be the only kind of bread that I make. I’m looking for a complexity of flavors in my bread and perfecting my technique. That may very well lead to me using a levain, but I’m making great bread right now without it.

As I shared with my cousin today when she asked me if I was making sourdough, “Not really, though I’m using poolish and biga pre-ferments and doing extended bulk fermentation. But not sourdough. Everyone is doing sourdough these days. And you know me, if everyone’s doing something, I’m gonna do something else.”

That something else has led me down a rabbit hole of different techniques that I otherwise wouldn’t have discovered if I just made one kind of bread and stuck to a single recipe. It has made research different factors that affect the process like water temperature and fermentation rates; when and when not to autolyse. It pushed me to learn how to shape different kinds of loaves and how to create tension on the surface of my bread.

Had I just stuck with the recipes and techniques – however incredibly valuable they are – from Ken Forkish’s insanely great book, “Flour Water Salt Yeast,” I’d still be baking my bread in a Dutch oven! I still use a Dutch oven from time to time, especially for baking high-hydration doughs that benefit from a confined space. But I wanted to make batards and baguettes and full loaves and sandwich breads. It meant breaking with the convention.