La Pasta Madre: Italian GF sourdough starter experiment, Day 14

[I’ve been following instructions for the wild-fermented starter in A Tavola Senza Glutine - if you’re new to this series, see the first and second posts for introduction and more info about GF sourdoughs in general!]

When we last left off, I'd just given the starter its first refresh. As the book instructed, I continued to refresh the dough in the same manner every 1 ½ - 2 days, removing 50 g of the dough and replacing it with an equal total of fresh material (20 g rice flour, 10 g corn flour, and 10 g water). After a total of 5 refreshings in this way, the book said, the starter can be used for bread. 

Day 6...

Day 9...

Well, by the fourth refresh - a little more than a week in - the dough seemed pretty lifeless. A lievito madre is often more concentrated than the sourdough starters many of us are used to, and as such it’s generally used in quantities similar to fresh yeast - a spoonful, as opposed to sourdough bread recipes that use a few ounces of starter per loaf. So I knew that, like the similarly slow-growing yeast formulas found in old cookbooks, it wouldn’t be as active as my normal starters. But I expected more than this! There weren’t many bubbles visible and the increase in height in the jar was negligible. On the final refresh I also added in 5 g more honey, hoping the free sugars might spark some visible activity, but even that didn’t do much. I kept going only because the gradual changes in smell had hinted that something was still happening. 

Day 11...Not much going on here.

So finally, I tried it with one of the recipes in the book: the focaccia, as pictured on the cover, which you can see in the Day 1 post. Well...it didn’t work. The “dough” was a runny mess, it didn’t rise or develop much flavor, and the final product - far from the lovely springy-looking bread in the pictures - was a dense, tough cracker/pancake hybrid. 

I have some ideas about what might have gone wrong, and hopefully I’ll be able to fix it. For now, though, I put the starter in the fridge (note: the book did not instruct this, but at the stated 15 days between feeding of the mature pasta madre, I assume refrigeration is wise!) and will come back to it when I’m feeling patient enough to test a few things - I’ll keep you updated!

La Pasta Madre: Italian GF sourdough starter experiment, Day 4

Per the book’s instructions, I left the jar alone for 3 days to do its thing. The mixture showed significant activity (as indicated by bubbles and rising height) within the first 48 hrs - this is typical of new starters. Despite looking like a very active dough, this initial burst of activity is a mix of a whole bunch of funky bacteria that will be largely replaced by other types as the starter matures. By 72 hrs the starter had begun to acquire a vaguely acetone-like smell, typically an indicator that the stuff living in it is getting very “hungry” and stressed (see below for further explanation). Nonetheless, as instructed, I removed just 20% (50 g) of the mixture, and replaced it with an equal amount of fresh material: 20 g rice flour, 10 g corn flour, and 20 g water.

As I stated on Day 1, I had some doubts about whether I was understanding this part of the recipe correctly. Often recipes for a new starter will instruct to discard 50% or more of the fermenting mixture, and replace it with (at least) as much new material. That's about the ratio I'm used to with my previous successful GF starters too.

Why discard so much flour? To answer this question we need to look closely at what’s happening in a new starter. We begin with flour and water; these provide all the nutrients necessary for whatever kinds of bacteria and fungus are present to grow. At first, we have all kinds of things growing - the kinds we want for bread, which will produce good flavors and make the bread rise, but also plenty of things that make funky smells, molds, and perhaps even some things that (if allowed to grow in sufficient quantities) could make us sick. As these various organisms break down the starches, proteins, and other metabolic processes in order to grow and reproduce, the mixture grows more acidic. The increased acidity is crucial to the process of becoming sourdough - the organisms we don’t want can’t grow very well in the acidic environment, allowing the acid-tolerant bread bacteria and yeasts to thrive with less competition. However, this is far from the only chemical change: you also have other metabolic products of the fermentation process and the old cells that have died.

When these products build up in proportion to the fresh resources in the mixture, the bacteria and yeasts may go into “survival mode” - they start producing molecules that aren’t desirable for bread, and also in turn the altered chemical environment of the mixture negatively affects the diversity of the microbial community. So, when you remove some of the starter, you’re not just removing flour, water, and the stuff living in it - you’re removing dead stuff, undesirable chemicals, and other things that would get in the way of a robust sourdough community. Discarding and feeding the starter both controls this buildup and provides fresh resources at a ratio that allows the desirable organisms to take over. 

All that said, I have definitely found plenty of old and traditional examples of fermentation methods that seemingly go against this wisdom yet still produce bread. Some of those are also fairly dry/stiff mixtures like this one is, which may be significant. So, for now, I am continuing to give this recipe (and my translation skills) the benefit of the doubt. Check back in a few days to see the progress!

La Pasta Madre: Italian GF sourdough starter experiment, Day 1

Sourdough or natural leaven is the natural fermentation of starchy material by a mixture of many types of wild yeasts and bacteria that are adapted to coexistence. This complex fermentation results in a diverse assortment of molecules contributing to the flavor, nutrition, and even the texture of bread differently than the single strain of yeast we buy at the store. The difference is even more pronounced in GF bread. Based on a wide body of research, I believe that the traits selected for store-bought yeast are simply not the best match for the properties of our GF flours; wild yeasts and associated bacteria are much better for turning these flours into bread - real bread, with only a few simple ingredients and no additives needed to compensate. In fact, one of the ways certain sourdough bacteria benefit bread texture and reduce staling is by producing a molecule that functions similarly to a gum! 

I recently acquired an Italian gluten-free book, A Tavola Senza Glutine, which was published by Slow Food Editore - between that fact and the amazing-looking pictures, I knew it had to be good! Unsurprisingly, all of the leavened breads use a natural sourdough starter, which I was eager to make. However, I found the method of making the starter quite surprising indeed. Let me explain:

Conventional sourdough starter methods usually advise refreshing (discarding a portion and feeding fresh flour) frequently, up to 2 or even 3 times a day until the microbial community is established, and this approach is often used in GF sourdough tutorials as well. Some recent artisan-bread experts feel the starter grows more robustly when fed/divided just once a day and at the other 12 hour intervals simply stirred to ensure enough oxygen for aerobic fermentation throughout the mixture. I’ve found this latter strategy to work well in the past with my own sweet-potato-based GF starters also. Certain traditional methods, on the other hand, involve a straight batch fermentation - nothing is discarded or divided, the flour-water mixture is just left alone until it balances itself out! It is more often done in situations where the entire batter is used (as opposed to maintaining a continuous starter for future batches) but I have also seen examples of long-lived starters created in this way. This last method is of course the least reliable and the success or failure of it seems highly dependent on temperature, ingredients, and multiple other conditions, because without intervention it is harder for the desirable bacteria and yeasts to gain a stronghold. (I personally have never gotten it to work right.) But the simplicity of it is intriguing - and tradition hints our ingredients’ natural course of fermentation may be suited to this approach, as seen in recipes for various Asian rice- and bean-based batters and Ethiopian teff flatbread as well as some of the traditional American methods of making potato yeast. 

So I was very interested (albeit a little nervous) to try the starter method in A Tavola Senza Glutine, which seems to strike a nice balance between the high-turnover and the hands-off approach: the starter is left alone for 2-3 days at a time, and at each interval, 20% of the mixture is discarded and replaced with fresh flour and water to maintain a constant quantity. Simple and unfussy, right? But...in addition to the low-maintenance schedule, this is a much lower discard ratio than with a typical sourdough starter recipe. So much lower, in fact, that I began to question whether I was reading the recipe correctly, and if it in fact might be the other way around. The word used, sostituitelo, means replace - does this mean replace as in “swap out” or could it mean replace in the sense of “return / put back with”? Am I supposed to add the fresh flour to the original jar (unusual ratio, but seemed to be what was instructed) or the removed portion? Had it been the reverse - removing a small portion to combine with fresh flour and discarding the rest, then also discarding and replacing half of the mixture at each subsequent feeding - this procedure would be far more typical, though less economical. To clarify, I went looking for some other instances of the same wording in other types of recipes where the intended procedure is more obvious, and it seems pretty clear that the usage of “replace” here does indeed mean the fresh flour is to be added to the main mixture, not combined with the small removed portion. (If you’re wondering why this difference matters so much, don’t worry - I will explain further about the role of discarding during the establishing phase in the Day 4 update.)

Regardless, that wasn’t the only odd thing about this starter recipe. It is also a lower hydration percentage - it starts out at just 60% hydration (not including the small amount of honey to get things going). The subsequent feedings/waterings add liquid at 67% of the flour weight, meaning the starter does become a little less dry with each discard, but even 67% remains a much lower hydration than the starters I’m most familiar with. 

But! In spite of all these doubts, I still want to try it the way it's (I think?) written. I know, I should have asked someone about the confusing wording, and I will feel very silly if I misunderstood the procedure. At the very least, it will be interesting, right? Let’s see what happens!

FIRST, some notes on what you’ll need: 

Rice - I might be overthinking this, but I figure I ought to at least bring it up in case it turns out to be relevant: The rice varieties grown in Italy are mostly medium-short-grain japonica varieties (think risotto), some of which are available made into flour. However, I can’t figure out if the regular rice flour available in Italy is made from one of these or from a more common rice type, as most do not specify. Likewise, most rice flour sold in the US does not specify the rice variety, but I’d guess it’s mostly made from medium-long grain types - a different amylose/amylopectin ratio than shorter grains. Anyway, I’m working under the assumption that standard rice flour here is similar enough to the standard rice flour there to suit the purposes of this experiment. Let’s hope I’m right!

Corn - Italian corn meals/flours can be divided into 3 categories: bramata (coarse, like for polenta), fioretto (fine, like US stone-ground corn flour), and finally fumetto (superfine and consisting only of the softer endosperm, or inner part of the corn kernel). This last grade is what the book calls for, but it isn’t really a thing in the US, so I had to do the best I could with my finest sieve and hope the tiny bits of harder outer layer remaining wouldn’t be too disruptive. 

Water - Please do NOT use tap water - the chlorine compounds and other things in municipal tap water will interfere with the growth of the more fragile members of the sourdough microbial community. Use spring water, or filtered water may be OK if your water filter is very very efficient.

Honey - I suspect the recipe specifies acacia honey for only a few particular reasons. For one, it has a higher fructose content than many other honeys, meaning it won’t crystallize and, being fairly thin, will dissolve evenly in the mixture. The other reason is that it has a very bright unintrusive flavor - it is a light, cleanly sweet spring honey, without the waxy, earthy, or tangy notes found in some other varietals or wildflower blends. 

With these criteria in mind I was all set to use another kind of honey I already had. But combined with the already unusual nature of this formula, I decided at the last minute to err on the side of caution, worried that there is something special about acacia that I wasn’t aware of. (Perhaps it may be particularly conducive to yeast fermentation, considering its popularity among mead producers?) If it doesn’t work right, I didn’t want to be stuck wondering if it was because I used the wrong honey. Besides, I was already having to change one thing with the cornmeal - changing two things just wouldn’t be scientific, after all. 

Jar - OK, it’s not exactly an ingredient, but it’s definitely necessary and I want to bring up one point: The book recommends covering the jar with a cloth, which is indeed the traditional way. However, newer science indicates that contrary to popular (and traditional) belief, the vast majority of the characteristic yeasts and bacteria in a sourdough starter come not from the surrounding air, but are already present on the surface of the grains. So, I just use a loose-fitting lid because it’s less cumbersome. You shouldn’t have an airtight seal, and you may still want to use a cloth if you are having issues with condensation in the jar, but really, any cover that keeps out the fruit flies and such should be fine. 

The starter, day 1: 100 g rice flour, 50 g fine corn flour, 180 g water, 1 tablespoon (~16 g) acacia honey

Combine in jar and set aside in a cool place for 3 days. The book specifies 18º C (about 65º F) - it’s nowhere near that cold in my house at this time of year, so I put it near the AC vent and hope it averages out! (By the way, the quantities above are half of the recipe as written in the book, because this quantity seemed more manageable. If you want to do it exactly as written, double all the measurements above.)

Check back on Day 4 - that’s Monday - to see what happens next!

Substitution spotlight: Traditional non-dairy milks in European baking and cooking

A traditional-style homemade seed milk.

Ah, good old-fashioned plant milks. No, that's not an oxymoron! It's often assumed that the idea of a milk substitute is a modern concept; sure, other things may fill the same culinary niche in cultures without a major tradition of dairy production, but it's not like people in previous centuries needed something to use for vegan cupcakes...right? Historically, if you couldn't have milk for whatever reason, you'd just leave it out...right?? Not necessarily! Milk is highly perishable, and it's easy to forget that until relatively recently, it was also a seasonal food. Add this to the many days with dietary restrictions imposed by the Catholic church interspersed throughout the calendar, and the existence of non-dairy milk becomes quite logical. Their use was by no means restricted to times when dairy was unavailable. From this we can see that people found them useful and enjoyable, and even practical. In some cases, they were indeed used as a milk substitute in the modern definition (though not necessarily for the same reasons) and treated as interchangeable with dairy; in other dishes, they were simply part of the recipe.

Almond milk, in particular, has a long and rich history, having originated during the middle ages in the Arabic-speaking world and becoming popular as a dairy substitute in Europe a couple of centuries later. The first English-language mention of almond milk I’m aware of was in 1390, though because it's called for as an ingredient in a larger recipe, I'm guessing it was already well-established by that time. Other nut and seed milks can also be traced back to this era; where almonds were prohibitively expensive or unavailable, milks made from regional ingredients like poppyseeds, hazelnuts, and hempseeds are also well-documented!

Milk was not even the only way people found to use nuts and seeds like dairy - recipes also detail the preparation of almonds in ways which resembled cream, butter, and even a sort of acid-curdled cheese! This is where I should point out: all these preparations bear little resemblance to modern processed, emulsified, stabilized milk substitutes, and the cheese certainly would not melt like some of the new products do (it is more like a crumbly or spreadable fresh cheese). Rest assured, though - from a food science perspective, these traditional nut and seed milks are actually much cooler! Thanks to the unique properties of their proteins, fats, etc., you can do things with them that simply can’t be done with the commercial stuff (the packaged kind is very watered-down, and on top of that, the stabilizers and other additives get in the way). (By the way, this applies to soy milk, too, which is about as old as almond milk and just as traditional, but I have not included it in this discussion as it was not considered as a deliberate dairy substitute until just a few decades ago. The same goes for coconut milk.) The real, homemade varieties of all these plant milks not only make for much better milk substitutes than the store-bought kinds, they also can do some things that dairy milk can’t! Coming up, I will show you some neat ways to use these qualities in baking and cooking.

Speaking of substitutions, I will be giving a presentation at the upcoming Charlotte, NC GFAF Event entitled "Recipe Remodeling: The Art and Science of Ingredient Substitution," in which I will explain how to keep the spirit of your traditional recipes even when you need to change key ingredients! The event is on Saturday, April 2nd - location and directions can be found here. I also have some tickets to give away!! If you’d like to win a ticket to the Charlotte GFAF Event, leave a comment telling me what kind of traditional dairy substitutes you want to see featured in a future recipe!

Honey-Candied Citrus Peels

February is a time for stirring. The flutters of restlessness after winter's excitements have worn off, the tiny signs that the outside world is waking up and preparing to grow again - readiness for change, both inside and out. A time of transition, where nothing is content to stay still. At least, that's what I feel every year at around this time. Call it cabin fever or simply instinct - something begins to urge me to think about spring cleaning, to seek out fresh air, a bright spot, a change of scenery. It seems to always be the time for plans and ideas, the start of new things. One of those "new things," 5 whole years ago now, was the start of this blog. I'd planned a larger, more exciting, more special (and timely) post to mark this occasion (...blogiversary? ...blogday?) but, funnily enough, more new things got in the way. Exciting things. (Well, aside from a cold - that was neither exciting nor good...) 

But even good news has a way of upending everything when it unfolds so suddenly. Hopefully I'll have time to get to those bigger plans and new recipes pretty soon. For now, though, something simpler. 

OK, I know what you may be thinking: simple? What's simple about making something you could just buy at the store? 

Well, a lot of things. For one thing, ingredients - the store-bought stuff is generally going to contain a lot more than just citrus peels and sugar (and not in a good way)! The recipe is actually quite simple to make, too. You can find a bunch of recipes online for candied peel with just sugar and water. I wanted to give it a more interesting flavor, so I replaced part of those with honey and lemon juice. The procedure is just as straightforward as the all-sugar method, though. 

I originally wanted to replace all the sugar with honey, but chickened out at the last minute because I was worried it would change the texture too much. If you do try that, though, please let me know how it goes! 

I actually made this with the intent of using it in a specific project - one that actually involves, well, baking - which I haven't gotten to yet, as mentioned...but it's also a good recipe in its own right, whether you want to use it in baking, as a decorative touch, or even on its own (perhaps dipped in chocolate?) as a small sweet. 

The finished product seems a little more sticky than the standard recipe, but for most purposes this won't really matter - it might be too wet for certain kinds of garnishes or dipping in chocolate, but I haven't tested that yet. 

The flavor is indeed more complex, and the leftover syrup...well, I had to stop myself from eating spoonfuls of the stuff - it tastes like pure essence of marmalade!  

Honey-Candied Citrus Peel

**Note: Please make sure to use organic fruits - as with any recipe using citrus zest or peel. Seriously, you don't want to eat the peels of the conventional kind, because they're usually coated with antifungals or other things that really aren't meant to be ingested! The organic ones may still have a very thin coating of wax, but it will be food-grade vegetable wax and should come off without much trouble.**  

Select several citrus fruits with unblemished skins (I used 5 small lemons and 1 medium-sized orange, which gave me 145 g of peel - a little over a cup). Wash and scrub them very well (just because they're organic doesn't mean they're clean!) 

Cut off a small piece at the stem end. With a sharp knife, score the top layer of peel as if you were cutting it into wedges, but try not to cut into the fruit itself. Quarters work well for small lemons and limes, while anything bigger should probably be scored into sixths or eighths. Now, use the tip of the knife to lift up the edge where you cut off the stem. Slip your thumb underneath this edge and gradually separate each wedge of peel from the fruit, one at a time. Repeat with the rest of the fruits. 

 

- Cut the peel into thin, even strips. Length of the strips can vary depending on what you want them for - I cut them fairly short since they'll mainly be used in recipes, but long strips would probably look more elegant for decoration or dipping in chocolate. (You'll now also have several naked citrus fruits, which should be refrigerated for some other use.)

- Put the strips of peel into a pan and cover with cold water. Add a pinch of salt and bring to a boil.

- Boil 10-12 minutes, then drain and discard the water. Repeat the boiling process, depending on what kind of peel you're using - lemons and limes should be ok with 1-2 boils, while oranges need 2-3 and grapefruit even more. The aim is to get rid of the unpleasantly bitter components, without making the peel too soft and mushy. 

- Next, set the peels aside while you make the syrup (you can use the same pan). 

For the syrup you will need: a fairly mild-flavored, light- or medium-colored honey (clover, wildflower, etc); sugar (I used unbleached / evaporated cane juice); water; and lemon juice. I'm giving ratios because the amount of syrup you need is not based entirely on the amount of peel - it will also depend on the size and shape of your pan. You need enough to keep the peels completely covered. It's better to have too much than not enough; there are lots of uses for the leftover syrup! 

The basic ratio is 2 parts honey : 2 parts sugar : 2 parts water : 1 part lemon juice. (For example, I used 120 g honey, 120 g sugar, 120 g water, & 60 g lemon juice, which was just enough to cover ~1 cup of peel in an 8-inch saucepan.)

- Combine all syrup ingredients in a pan over medium heat. When the sugar/honey have completely dissolved and the mixture has come to a simmer, add the peel. Cover and continue simmering for an hour - a glass lid is useful here, so you can keep an eye on it. Check occasionally to make sure all the pieces stay submerged in syrup, and to adjust temperature if needed.

- Strain the peel well (keep the syrup!) and spread the pieces in a single layer on a baking sheet lined with wax paper or parchment. Let dry for several hours or overnight. 

- Toss with sugar and spread out on a fresh piece of wax paper or parchment (the first one will have a coating of sticky syrup which will make the sugar clumpy) and dry for a few more hours before putting in a jar - this will reduce stickiness. Store in the fridge or freezer. It should keep for at least a few weeks refrigerated, more if frozen. 

Coming soon: recipe(s) using the peel, the syrup, or both!