
When I first learned of genius entrepreneur Nathan Myhrvold’s
endeavor to create THE Ultimate Work on Bread Baking, pouring thousands
of dollars in his state-of-the-art scientific laboratory plus baking
station, I was rather skeptical. After Modernist Cuisine now molecular
baking?
But a presentation last summer at the Kneading Conference
in Skowhegan/ME, with stunning photos of the process, was so convincing
that I overcame my doubts (and qualms about spending so much money), and
ordered my copy at Amazon.
The massive metal box set (History and
Fundamentals, Ingredients, Techniques and Equipment, Recipes I and II,
and a spiral bound kitchen manual with formulas) arrived in November,
too heavy for one person to carry. Totally awed by those gorgeous,
atlas-sized tomes, I asked myself the obvious question:
“Am I good enough for this Rolls Royce of baking books?”
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“Am I good enough for this?” |
Being the anal Virgo, instead of undisciplined rushing at the
recipes, I started reading the first volume, History and Fundamentals.
Though I’m generally not a great fan of non-fiction, remembering with a
shudder the all-night-cramming before my final medical exams, I found
the book a very pleasant read, interesting, full of fascinating facts,
and beautifully illustrated.
My husband, a Vietnam veteran,
travels to Asia every year, Singapore, Cambodia, and, always, Vietnam.
Whether in Saigon or Danang, his favorite food are Banh Mi sandwiches,
and he misses them here in Maine.
The toppings, meat, pickles,
cucumbers, chili and cilantro, are not hard to come by, but the Banh Mi
breads are a totally different matter. Though French baguettes are their
ancestors, Banh Mi rolls are different, with a thinner crust and
softer, fluffier crumb.
With Richard just back from Saigon, I decided on Banh Mi rolls, my first loaves to bake from Modernist Bread.
I
had tried to make them before, using the only recipe (from Andrea
Nguyen) that appears to be circulating in the internet. It wasn’t bad,
but, according to my husband (and my own memory from my trip to Vietnam
years ago), it wasn’t right, either, no crackly crust, and too chewy.
For
many of Myhrvold’s breads you can choose between two or (even three)
different formulas, a classic version, a “best” version, and a
“modernist” approach (with unusual enhancements, like gelatin).
But for Banh Mi, there is only one recipe.
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Banh Mi recipe page |
Though I often tweak formulas according to my own preferences, this
time I didn’t not stray from the Modernist’s path, awed by the expertise
of the authors. I wondered a bit about the shortening (or lard) in the
bread – no fat in French baguettes, and why would bakers in a poor Asian
country add a costly enrichment to their dough?
Instead repeating
the mixing procedures and different steps for shaping, and proofing in
every formula, Modernist Bread refers to detailed instructions in volume
3 (Techniques and Equipment). Fine.
But would it have killed them (or taken up too much space) to put oven temperatures and baking times
into the recipes? You had to look under “filone entry in French Lean
Bread Baking Times and Temperatures”, several pages back, to find them –
or not, since there was no filone in the list!
And why is cold bulk fermentation only very briefly and cursorily mentioned as an option? Instead, the Techniques section offered retardation of the shaped breads, along with fermentation at different room temperatures. Great, if you bake only one loaf – or have a walk-in refrigerator!
I
started my mixing process, following the Modernist Bread’s instructions
– and was confronted with my first question: “add salt and mix on
medium-low speed to low gluten development; add melted shortening or
lard, and mix on medium speed to full gluten development.”
How do I
gauge low gluten development? I added the shortening after I mixed in
the salt, drizzling it slowly into the mixer bowl. But, alas, my gluten
development was faster, my dough did not welcome the greasy addition,
resisting its incorporation, and, instead, swishing the liquid fat all
around in the bowl.
It took a long time of mixing, until the dough looked somewhat homogeneous – but it was still coated in grease!
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The dough resisted the incorporation of fat |
No help for that, I had to trust in the mitigating effect of long
fermentation (I did the cold bulk), especially since my 7-qt Kitchen
Aid, deciding, “enough is enough”, switched itself off to avoid
overheating.
Everything else, shaping and proofing, went according to plan, until it was time to bake.
Modernist Bread pooh-poohs every steaming measure
we poor hobby bakers are able to employ, except for using a Dutch oven
or a covered baker. Tough luck for home-based micro-bakeries like mine
that need to process more than one loaf at a time!
I guess I have to live with my guilt of using my modest, pebble filled steam pan.
In the “French Lean Bread Baking Temperatures and Times” table I found only temperature for baking (470ºF/245ºC), not for preheating the oven. I remembered having come across it somewhere in the Technique volume, but couldn’t find that paragraph again.
Assuming
500ºF would be okay, I preheated my oven (which keeps the correct
temperature), with baking stone and steaming device in place. According
to the time table, the small baguettes should be baked for 15 minutes
with steam, and 10 minutes without, at 470ºF.
But when I checked
after 15 minutes, to remove the steam pan, they were already fully
baked, with an interior temperature of 211ºF.
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Not a Banh Mi at all! |
The baguettes looked okay from the outside, though the crust was not
crackly. But when we cut the baguettes in halves to make sandwiches, we
were in for a big disappointment. Instead of airy and fluffy, the crumb
was dense and chewy.
And worse – they didn’t taste like Banh Mi
at all, more like brioche (made with shortening instead of butter).
We
ate our sandwiches, grumbling, and I was sorely tempted to throw the
remaining two loaves in the trash – something I hardly ever do with my
bread, even if it’s burnt, or otherwise malfatti.
In the end the
frugal housewife prevailed – I cut off the bread crusts and ground them
into crumbs. And worked the loaves into a really nice bread pudding!
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Successfully recycled – Leek Bread Pudding, made of Banh Mi rolls |