First step, make a starter. Put 100ml or so (it’s not critical), in a mug, add the malt extract and stir until dissolved. Then add a tablespoon (from the 500g), of white flour, stir until all the lumps have gone – as I said, this is quite easy – then stir in the yeast. Wait a few minutes for it to hydrate, give it a good stir then leave it alone for about 20-30 minutes, or until the froth is most of the way up the mug.
While you’re waiting, mix the flours and the salt very well, and make a well in the middle. Pour in the yeast mix. Use all but a tablespoon of the water to rinse the mug, and add that to the bowl. Add the oil, and mix until it’s all combined.
I usually mix it with a tablespoon, in the bowl, until until mostly mixed, then work it with my hand until all but a recalcitrant tablespoon or so remains unmixed. Then I tip it out onto the worktop, scrape out the bowl and add that, then work it with my left hand, with a bench knife in my right for scraping back up bits that make a bid for freedom (it might be necessary to moisten the last fragments a little), and unsticking the dough if it sticks to the surface.
When it’s all combined, knead as normal with both hands, keeping the bench knife handy in case it sticks. If it sticks too much, dust very lightly with flour, then flip it over and do the other side (I use a tea strainer which is used for nothing else, and is kept in the flour bag – mainly because it gets forgotten). And by very lightly I mean no more than a level teaspoon at the absolute maximum.
Work the dough for about 10 minutes (it will feel worryingly gritty – it doesn’t matter), shape into a ball, flatten it (I sit it on a disc of baking parchment at this point, it stops it sticking), put it back in the bowl, cover closely with clingfilm and leave until more or less doubled in size. Despite what you might read elsewhere, there’s no need to get paranoid about this, close enough is good enough.
Then tip it out onto the worktop, dump the film and parchment, knock it back so you have a flattish disc, roll the sides to the middle, then the ends too. Knead for a minute or two (some people say you don’t need to do this – they’re the same people who tell you knocking on the bottom of the loaf will tell you when it’s done – they’re wrong on both counts).
This brief, second, kneading will develop the gluten, and you’ll feel the dough begin to firm up in your hands. At this point, shape it into whatever shape you prefer – I make a ball and put it into a floured 1kg brotform, spritz it with olive oil*, cover with clingfilm and leave to rise.
*I have an oil sprayer, also from the Emporium
Staying with the brotform, once the dough has risen as high as the rim, I hold a sheet of parchment over it, gripping the sides of the brotform through it, then quickly flip it over and set it on my peel, and leave it to continue rising and to conform to the shape of the brotform. I find this gives the best results.
When the dough has pushed the brotform half an inch or so above the parchment, gently ease it off the dough – if find gently twisting it a tiny amount back and forth, which gently lifting it, works well. Brutality, at this stage, will cause the dough to collapse.
The I slash the dough deeply, a basic cross works best – the oven having been pre-heated to 200C – and slide the loaf gently onto the baking sheet in the oven. I toss a cup of boiling water into a shallow tin that stays permanently on the bottom of the oven, then close the door quickly but gently (I’ve heard that slamming the door can cause the dough to collapse – no idea if it’s true, but why take a chance?).
Remove to a cooling rack after 35-40 minutes (ovens vary, it’s 40 minutes in mine, at a confirmed 200C – an oven thermometer is a good investment, so you can set the exact temperature, no matter what your oven thermostat might say).
OK, notes:-
First of all, I forgot the oil completely. When cooled, the loaf had a crust like concrete, so I just bagged it and left it until morning. Next day the crust, as expected, had softened. It was still chewy, but you no longer put your teeth at risk.
The crumb, without oil, was also chewy, but pleasantly so, with the sour tang of the rye coming through nicely, so I have high hopes for the dark rye that I also got (interestingly, the Doves Farm rye flour didn’t have the slightest sourness). Oats contribute more texture and fibre than anything else, and I’m also hoping they retain moisture so the bread doesn’t stale as fast (actually, homemade bread still tastes damn good even if it is stale – OK, I wouldn’t make sandwiches with it, but it’s fine with cheese, or soup, or just buttered).
Overall, a very tasty loaf, if a little robust. I normally put 4 tablespoons of olive oil in loaves of this size but, to try and retain some of the character, I’ve reduced it in this recipe to 2. However, if you really can’t abide chewy bread, feel free to go with 4.
Hydration:- I used my normal 60%, but the dough was a little soft, with a tendency to spread out rather than rise. It rose OK, just not as much as it should. This is partly because there is pretty much no gluten in rye or oats, but mainly because the oatmeal didn’t immediately take up water, so the flour was over-wet.
Hydrating the oats first should fix that, so next time I’ll try making a starter a day or two in advance, with the oats and rye, 200 ml of the water, a little malt extract, and a half-teaspoon of yeast. Mix it in a bowl with plenty of room for it to expand, cover with clingfilm and leave, wherever you leave your dough to rise, for a couple of hours. Once it’s well under way you can put it in the fridge and forget about it for a day or two, until you need it. Just be sure to take it out a few hours before you need it, or even overnight. It will have continued to ferment, very slowly, in the fridge, and bringing it up to room temperature for a while will get it working vigorously again.
I’ll let you know how it works out.
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