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!

Pastuccia (Italian polenta pie)

The nature of my research means I end up studying a lot of cookbooks from a purely academic perspective - I read far more recipes than I could ever possibly cook, and the ones I do select to prepare are carefully chosen for their research value. But occasionally a book I initially intended to use merely for investigative purposes ends up going above and beyond its usefulness as an academic reference and earns a spot as a treasured resource in my kitchen as well. (This means I have to get my own copy to keep, so I can quit monopolizing the library’s one!) 

La Cucina (originally published in Italian as La Cucina del Bel Paese), if you’re not familiar with it, is essentially a giant community cookbook comprising the entirety of Italy. It represents the culmination of 50 years of research by the Accademia italiana della cucina, started in 1953 to record and preserve Italy’s regional culinary heritage. A fantastic project! But because the recipes were collected from regular people rather than developed by a test kitchen, some of the instructions are a little sparse - and because it’s been translated and adapted for an English-speaking audience, some words also become less specific. In the recipe I wanted to make, it wasn’t clear to me what type of sausage should be used, or even how thickly or thinly the dough should be spread, so I turned to the internet hoping to find some clarification.

Well, after comparing the variety of recipes available online, it appears that this dish - like pretty much everything that is baked in a casserole, come to think of it! - is the kind of food where you use what you’ve got. So what makes it a pastuccia? The common defining elements seem to be cornmeal, pork (usually a combination of sausage and pancetta), almost always egg yolks in the dough, and usually some raisins too. The proportions, procedure, and other specifics are open to much freedom of interpretation. To answer my initial question, it turns out some recipes use fresh sausage, some use dry, and many use something in between. What’s more, some versions are essentially a giant savory corn-cake, mixed with cold water to form a crackled, crumbly dough; others are rich casseroles which require first cooking a soft polenta. Oh, and the additions may be mixed into the dough or distributed mostly on the bottom and top. Most versions go in the oven, but a few apparently are cooked entirely on the stove. And so on...As I said, it’s pretty flexible.

In the spirit of this variability, writing it out as a recipe seems a bit stuffy - instead, I’m just going to tell you what I did. You can do the same, or you can change things depending on your tastes and what you have available. 

How I made the pastuccia:

(These measurements are for a small pastuccia - most recipes use at least double the amounts I’ve given here, so scale it as you see fit. It was so delicious, I wish I’d made a larger one!)

First, I took about ¼ lb of raw local pork sausage and browned it in a cast-iron skillet, then added 70 grams of minced semi-dry andouille sausage (I didn’t have any pancetta/guanciale, so I improvised - I know it’s very different, but it worked anyway!) and cooked it until the bits were nice and crispy. Meanwhile, I put about a cup (140 g) of cornmeal in a bowl along with a pinch of salt - this was mostly Arrowhead Mills’ organic cornmeal, but I also used a little of Anson Mills’ heirloom Italian polenta integrale for the flavor - and stirred in 120 g (½ cup) very hot water to form a stiff dough. Next, I mixed in 40 g (¼ cup) of golden raisins (I had previously soaked these in water for a few minutes to plump them up), followed by one raw egg yolk, which made the dough quite soft and sticky. 

At this point I removed about half of the sausage mixture from the cast iron pan, pressed the dough into the hot pan with the remaining sausage and cooked it a moment to brown the bottom, then scattered the reserved sausage mixture over the top of the dough. Then I put the whole thing into the oven (preheated to 200º C/395º F) and baked it until it was golden and cooked through - this took about half an hour I think, or maybe a little less. 

Cut it into wedges to serve as part of a main course or as an appetizer. These types of cornmeal cakes are traditionally frequently paired with cooked green vegetables. Leftovers (if you have any!) can be reheated in the oven or enjoyed cold.

P.S. Don't forget, the Raleigh GFAF Event is in one week! See here for the details, and go to this post to win free tickets!

{Ratio Rally} More bread for the table

When I saw that Karen of Cooking Gluten Free had chosen bread for this month's Ratio Rally, I immediately thought of three things:
- I had to make some kind of bread I'd never done before (which I did!)
- I had do a science post (well, that part didn't happen. But more on that later.)
- I was really, really excited. Not just excited about baking bread - excited to see everyone baking bread, proving to the world that even without gluten, flour and water can be transformed into something amazing, something you can proudly have on your table.

After all, bread has essentially been this blog's raison d'être since the very beginning - even the name says it all. A bakery of bread - real bread - which happens to all be gluten-free. I knew from the start, of course, that I would create recipes for many other things as well, but bread in particular holds a special importance to me (a fact which has come up in quite a few of these posts).

But where to start? Since my first post a couple of years ago, I've made dozens and dozens of breads. Nowhere near all of them made it into a post of course, but the best ones did. And each of those "best breads" was posted because when I saw that loaf of real bread browning in my oven, or smelled that fresh-baked crust, or - most of all - tasted something that was truly good, I wanted to share it. There was the first time I discovered that yeast bread not only could be made without eggs or gums, but also that it was so much better that way! Then there was the delicious, authentic-tasting French multigrain bread that had no gums, eggs, or dairy (and the even simpler base recipe, from when I came up with a loaf-shaping strategy that consistently produced an attractive loaf). There was when I finally developed a truly satisfying pizza dough. And though it seems like so long ago now, it's been just two years since I made my very first best bread - at the time I knew next to nothing about food chemistry (meaning baking felt closer to superstition than science), and I still hadn't branched out beyond the eggs-and-xanthan gum formula, but at the time it was by far the best gluten-free bread I'd had. (Some of my newer recipes have what I consider much better taste and texture, but that old bread remains the most popular recipe on this blog - I will admit, the eggs do help things rise quite impressively.)

I thought about all these things as I was deciding just what kind of bread to make for this month's Rally, and suddenly I found myself feeling, well, pretty overwhelmed. And perfectionistic. Little things I brush off when baking just for myself suddenly seemed like huge issues: the crumb was too dark, or too dense; the crust didn't brown enough; there was too much whole-grain flavor, or not enough flavor at all. After several loaves of this criticism, I was growing weary of fighting the properties of gluten-less flours (and the laws of gravity) - it was time to try a different approach. Don't worry, I'm certainly not giving up on a wonderful baguette or boule or any of those other delicious things. In fact, I'll be devoting an upcoming post to exactly why those big loaves are so difficult, and what to do about it...with science!

Just...not this week. And that's where ciabatta comes in.

You see, ciabatta could be considered the odd bread out in the gluten-bread baking world (and I don't just mean its history - I'm talking about the dough itself). We tend to think of gluten dough as something that is, compared to GF dough, so easy to handle; so much more resilient and cooperative. Yet when I was looking at recipes for this particular type of bread, I noticed something odd. Nearly every one stated the dough must be worked using a stand mixer or bread machine knead cycle; they said it simply can't be kneaded by hand. A couple of recipes even went so far as to instruct "throw everything you know about bread dough out the window"! (Any of this sound familiar, gluten-free bakers?!)

Now, don't get me wrong -- ciabatta, just like other regular breads, is definitely very much dependent on gluten for its structure and texture. But while we lack the advantages of gluten to work with, this is one case where we can also avoid its disadvantages - in the case of ciabatta, the fact that its flour:water ratio means the gluten is really sticky. My ciabatta dough may not be strong and stretchy like regular dough, but it's actually quite easy to handle if you follow the instructions. And oh, the texture! With the loaf being so flat, it's not weighing itself down as much - so you'll get an airier crumb than you usually see in (eggless) GF breads. I even included a video clip to show you just how nice the texture is. (Sorry for the poor video quality - it was filmed on a phone - but I think it gets the point across!)

See how soft and stretchy it is?! I hope that after that, you really want to make some of your own now. Just a couple more quick notes to add before I get to the recipe:

- If you want to try to get your bread to rise up more (rather than spread out), try placing something on either side of it (separated by parchment) during the final part of the rising, somewhat akin to how a couche works.
- You can use potato starch in place of some of the tapioca starch if you want the insides of the bread to be whiter (have a look at this pizza dough, which is mostly a very similar flour composition, and you'll see what I mean). You may need to add a bit more water if using some potato starch, though.


Ciabatta (Gluten-free, gum-free, egg-free/vegan)
The ratio for this recipe is 4 parts flour:3 parts water. This is fairly typical for this style of bread, even when made with wheat (whereas wheat sandwich bread, for instance, is usually a 5:3 ratio). Though there is some oil in this bread, the amount is too small to make a clean ratio - there is however a similar concept that can accommodate small amounts of oil, etc using percentages (called baker's percentage) which I will introduce in an upcoming post, or you can look it up if you want.


For the sponge:
40 g oat flour
100 g brown rice flour
12 g buckwheat flour
16 g potato flour (not starch)
12 g tapioca starch
1/2 tsp yeast (preferably "bread machine/rapid" yeast)
20 mL organic apple cider vinegar
160 mL warm water

For the final dough:
220 g tapioca starch
1 2/3 T (5 tsp) psyllium
1/2 tsp Pomona's citrus pectin
1 tsp sea salt
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp yeast (preferably "bread machine/rapid" yeast)
120 mL warm water
30 mL (2 T) olive oil

For shaping the loaves:
1 tsp double-acting baking powder
2-4 tsp olive oil
rice flour
tapioca starch

Method
1. The night before you want to make bread, you'll need to make the sponge: Combine the dry ingredients for the sponge (including yeast) in a large bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the vinegar and warm water and stir until it forms a stiff dough - it will become more fluid as it ferments. Cover tightly, and set aside to ferment for 12-14 hours.
2. In a separate bowl, combine all the dry ingredients for the final loaf (including yeast).
3. Stir about half of this dry mixture into the fermented sponge, followed by about half the water; then add the rest of the dry mixture, the rest of the water, and the olive oil. (If using a mixer, use the paddle attachment.) The dough will be more loose and slack than usual, but it should not be sticky.

4. Prepare 2 or 4 pieces of parchment (depending on whether you are making small or large loaves). Put a generous splash of olive oil on each parchment for ease of handling the dough.
5. Divide the dough into 2 or 4 pieces, and flatten each into a rectangle as if making very thin pizza:

Be careful not to tear or poke holes in it.

6. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp baking powder evenly on each rectangle (or 1/4 tsp if making 4 smaller loaves). Then fold two of the parallel edges inward, like this:

7. Now fold those edges in once more, overlapping slightly to form a seam:

8. Prepare a baking sheet or pizza peel with a very generous dusting of rice flour.
9. Once the shaped loaves have been resting seam-side up for 15-20 minutes, you will "flip" them onto the baking sheet so they are seam-side down for the rest of the rising time. Do this by grasping the edges of the parchment paper and lifting one side to quickly (but gently!) transfer them onto the floured area:

Handle gently to avoid deflating the loaf.

10. When all your loaves are resting seam-side down on the floured baking sheet/pizza peel, allow them to continue rising for another ~40 minutes (they will approximately double in size). Meanwhile preheat the oven to 230ºC/450ºF with a baking stone on the bottom rack. (If you don't have one, you can bake on a cookie sheet.) 

11. Shortly before putting them in the oven, dust the top of each loaf with a good amount of rice flour and/or tapioca starch. Optional: place a pan of water on the top rack of the oven to create steam - this helps produce a crisp crust. 

12. Gently slide each loaf onto the baking stone - the rice flour will mostly keep them from sticking, but a dough scraper may be useful to ease the transfer with minimal disturbance to the risen loaf. (If you will be baking on the baking sheet, simply place the sheet on the bottom rack of the oven.) Bake for 40-60 minutes (the shorter time will produce a crisp crust; the longer time will give a crunchy crust but will allow more steam to escape from the bread for a lighter loaf overall). Remove from the oven and cover with a dish towel until cool - do not cut until completely cool.

Crusty bread, olive oil, pepper: Enjoy!

~ Check out the rest of this month's bread creations over at Cooking Gluten Free! ~

Fresh fettuccine for the Ratio Rally

Pasta! Like bread, pasta can be found in various forms around the world: from the dozens of Italian shapes and styles, to the tiny couscous of northern Africa, to the chewy hand-pulled noodles eaten throughout Asia, it's the foundation of countless familiar meals. There's something inherently satisfying and comforting about its texture and taste. And much of it (though not all of it!) is made from wheat. A lot of people say it is one of the things they miss most about eating wheat, in fact. Personally, I've been quite satisfied with most of the dry gluten-free pastas I've found; even some that are 100% brown rice can be very good - and I guess that's not entirely surprising, since some traditional Asian noodles are made from rice alone. However, aside from possibly as a component of ravioli or tortellini, I don't think I had ever tasted fresh pasta, the kind made with eggs. Because of that, I chose to dress my pasta simply, so I could really taste it. It would also be delicious with some bright, summery marinara sauce or a hearty ragù (which is traditional with a number of ribbon-cut fresh pastas like fettuccine and tagliatelle)! If you're feeling ambitious, you can even make ravioli. If you need inspiration, have a look at all of this month's Ratio Rally pasta creations, hosted by Jenn of Jenn Cuisine!

Sun-dried tomato, olive oil, garlic, & spices pair wonderfully with fresh pasta

As with last month's Ratio Rally post, you will need to start by weighing your eggs, and that will tell you how much flour you need. First of all, decide how much pasta you want to make. Each serving of pasta requires one egg - my example recipe is for two servings.

For fresh pasta, the ratio of flour:eggs is 3:2 (by weight).

My eggs weighed a total of 110 grams. Since the eggs' weight is 2 parts, I divide that number in two and find that each "part" equals 55 grams. That means that 3 parts = 165 grams; that is the amount of flour I need.

I got the best results using a blend of 60% starchy flours and 40% whole grain flours. You can vary your choice of flours as long as you keep that basic ratio the same.

This was the blend I liked best:

20% (33 g) millet flour 
20% (33 g) brown rice flour
20% (33 g) tapioca starch
20% (33 g) potato starch (not potato flour)
20% (33 g) sweet rice flour

The weights given are based on my total weight of 165 g flour - if you want to use this exact flour blend, adjust each amount according to whatever is 20% your total flour weight. You do not need any gums or other binding agents for this recipe! The eggs provide plenty of strength.

You will also need:
Parchment paper or pastry board, rolling pin, sharp metal bench scraper or knife, wire cooling rack to dry the pasta on, olive oil, and plenty of extra tapioca starch for rolling.

Method:
Weigh your eggs into a small bowl and determine how much flour you'll need, as explained above. Weigh your flour into a large bowl and mix in 1/4 tsp salt. Make a small well in the flour and tip the eggs in. Gently begin stirring the eggs to break the yolks, and then stir in larger circles to incorporate the flour. Knead by hand for a few minutes, until the dough is very smooth - expect that it will be sticky at first, though if the dough is still sticky after several minutes of kneading, work in a small amount of additional tapioca starch. Form the dough into a ball and rub the surface with olive oil, and let it rest in the bowl for ~30 minutes (refrigeration optional, but chilling might make the dough easier to work with).

Now, generously flour a pastry board or piece of parchment with tapioca starch, and reserve another piece of parchment to place on top. Divide the dough into smaller balls according to how many servings you are making (in other words, how many eggs you used) - place one ball on your floured work surface, and cover the remaining dough so it doesn't dry out. Pat the dough into a large, flat rectangle and dust the surface generously with more tapioca starch. Place the other piece of parchment on top of it, and roll it as thin as you can get it without tearing. Slice into strips with the bench scraper or knife, wiggling the blade slightly to separate the strips, but do not move them yet.

Separate them just enough that they won't stick together.

Let them dry slightly for ~15 minutes, then carefully slide the blade underneath them and use it to transfer them to a wire cooling rack to dry further. Repeat with remaining dough. Let the strips dry for ~45 minutes before placing them into heavily salted, boiling water.

This allows both sides to dry evenly.

If they do not dry long enough, the texture won't be right and they will taste doughy. If they dry too long, they may break, though it's OK if that does happen because the texture and taste will still be good. Boil for about 2 minutes - this time may vary slightly based on how thick and wide your pasta is, but it will cook very quickly! Drain the pasta, but do not rinse. Toss immediately with whatever sauce or oil you want to use, and enjoy!

Sponge cake, to celebrate.

Celebrate what, exactly? Living gluten-free, of course! Knowing you are gluten-intolerant means knowing you can care for yourself by following a gluten-free diet - and that's definitely a cause for celebration. Hopefully increasing awareness will help the many people with undiagnosed celiac disease find, and celebrate, health as well. As you might already know, May is Celiac Disease Awareness Month. At the beginning of the month, a few ambitious and talented bakers took this opportunity to create the world's largest gluten-free cake. Seriously, it's enormous. It wasn't just for yummy-ness and fun, though. In addition to pointing out that 1 in 133 people have celiac disease, this cake also had an even bigger purpose (pun absolutely intended): bringing attention to the fact that the FDA received an assignment to define gluten-free labelling standards...four years ago. That's right: there are currently no enforceable standards stating what "gluten-free" really means in this country. The European Union, the UK, Australia, and New Zealand all have standards, which means that a product must be tested and proven  safe in order to be labelled GF. In the US, on the other hand, there are still a lot of common misconceptions - for instance, people thinking it's OK to say something made with spelt flour is gluten-free. Um, no. Gluten-free is also not the same thing as dairy-free, or vegan, or (*cringe*) fat-free. Yes, I have run into all of those examples personally, absurd as they may sound...I was once sold an allegedly "gluten-free" cupcake at a coffeeshop, which  turned out to be very gluten-full - at least it was vegan, though, right?! (...That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.) Unfortunately, this sort of thing happens more often than you would want to know. You can help to stop it from happening again, though - sign the petition or even write your own letter to let the FDA know just how many people need proper gluten-free labelling! 

Oh, and in the meantime, have some cake. 

This is a light, fluffy, incredibly soft sponge cake. If it weren't for the fact that I made it myself, I honestly wouldn't have believed it's gluten-free. It doesn't take too long to whip up, either, as long as you have a mixer. This is an Italian sponge cake, as opposed to French spongecake or Génoise, because the egg whites are beaten separately from the yolks, and no fat is added other than what comes from the yolks. You can decorate it however you wish - here, I have done some decorative work with a simple buttercream, but the first time I made this cake I used a boiled or "7-minute" meringue-like icing, to which I added a little heavy cream and a spoonful or two of butter so it tasted a little more like frosting and a little less like marshmallow fluff. It was very tasty, just kind of blobby - if you don't care about doing any fancy piping, though, I highly recommend it (there are recipes all over the internet, as well as many variations in the Joy of Cooking).

Italian Sponge Cake with Apricot-Amaretto Glaze

You will need:

- a scale, preferably digital

- a mixer with whisk attachment

- 3 bowls (2 large/medium, 1 small)

- 4-6 ramekins/crème brûlée dishes, if you want miniature layer cakes like the one in my picture OR a 9-inch springform pan, if you just want one flat cake OR 8-10 cupcake papers
- baking parchment, unless using cupcake papers

Simple touches of buttercream complement the apricot glaze nicely. 
(Plus, it looks pretty.) 

- a small sieve or strainer (optional, but it helps)

Ingredients:

25 g tapioca starch
15 g millet flour
10 g chestnut flour
8 g white rice flour
1/8 tsp Pomona's pure citrus pectin
1/8 tsp fine sea salt
3 eggs, at room temperature
100 g sugar, divided

Several spoonfuls apricot jam, mixed with a splash of amaretto or 1/4 tsp almond extract+water to thin to syrupy consistency
1/8 tsp extra almond extract (optional)

Mix flours, pectin, and salt in the small bowl, and set aside. Weigh 50 g sugar into each of the other two bowls. Separate the eggs, putting the whites in one of these bowls and the yolks in the other. If you would like a bit of flavouring in the cake, add the 1/8 tsp almond extract to the yolk bowl. Pre-heat the oven to 190ºC/375ºF, and line your pan or crème brûlée dishes with parchment.

With the whisk attachment on your mixer, whip the egg white-sugar mixture until very stiff (this may take a while, even with a mixer)! Set aside, and whip the egg yolk-sugar mixture until it is thick and creamy pale yellow. Now, gently fold the yolk mixture into the whites. Then, tip 1/3 of the flour into the sieve or strainer, and shake it over the bowl so you have a light dusting of flour on the egg foam. Fold in very gently, and repeat this twice more to incorporate the remaining 2/3 of the flour. This prevents any lumps, which is important because you have to treat the batter delicately. Very carefully spoon the batter into your prepared crème brûlée dishes, pan, or cupcake papers - do not press out the air bubbles - and place in the oven. Immediately lower temperature to 175ºC/350ºF. If you are using a large pan, bake ~ 30 minutes; ramekins and cupcakes need less time, about 18-25 minutes depending on size. Cool completely in the pan.

Once the cakes have cooled, gently remove from pans and peel off parchment. Level them and slice into layers if you wish (not recommended for cupcakes, but if you used crème brûlée dishes, you can make some very cute miniature layer cakes). Now spoon the apricot-amaretto syrup over the top of each cake to glaze (and between layers, if applicable). Decorate as desired - you can frost them, pipe buttercream embellishments, or simply serve them with some lightly sweetened whipped cream.

Have you ever seen food falsely labelled gluten-free? Are you doing anything special this month to raise awareness of celiac disease? Share your stories in the comments!

P.S. - I'm working on some extra-special projects for future yeast bread baking lessons - stay tuned!

Summer, and Caprese Pizza with Gremolata

Wow, I can't believe it's been more than two months since I last posted! You know how the saying goes, though: time flies when you're...um...really, really busy. (Okay, so I guess that's not quite how the saying goes...)

It seems in most places summer is at the height of its luxuriance. Where I grew up, this is the time when the air is practically throbbing with the drone of cicadas, and so thick with humidity it feels almost heavy. Those things mark the time of the summer to delight in the simplest things: a perfect peach, for instance, is so lush and delicious, satisfying enough to distract from the heat.

Here, though, it feels almost like summer is still just arriving. The days are sunny, but just warm, not what I'd call hot. We've had several small stretches of heat - some quite intense - but after a week or two it cools back down again. It seems very strange to find that, in the middle of August, the blackberries have just begun to ripen. Lately the morning air has been crisp and smelling of autumn.

Still, I've often been hungry for all the things I associate with this time of the year. Maybe it's learned; maybe it's instinct. A few times these cravings have brought to mind the time I spent in Italy. I suppose I have many fond culinary memories from that summer: just-plucked figs that were as succulent and sweet as honey. Bitter espresso tempered with a touch of tart lemon. The ubiquitous insalata caprese, a vivid combination of fresh mozzarella, tangy sliced tomatoes, and lush green basil leaves, all drizzled with full-bodied olive oil. That meal alone is an examination of simplicity; every flavour clear and distinct, in harmony with the others.

But perhaps most of all I remember the little restaurant in...I regret to say I can't recall which city. I don't frequently dine out when I travel; I have always preferred perusing open-air produce markets, small groceries, and (when I still could) bakeries. But this night I found myself ordering something off a menu - a pizza, to be exact. Pizza, in Italy, is offered at even relatively formal restaurants, and an entire small pizza serves as an entree for one. It is eaten with a fork and knife, and the crust is very thin. It truly showcases each of its ingredients. I remember mine was delicious.

What really shines in my memory about that meal, though, was what followed. Though I hadn't ordered them, I was brought a small dish of strawberries - but not normal garden strawberries. These were raspberry-sized, soft, and velvety red, the quintessence of freshness. The cameriere explained that they were local wild fruits and very special; they could not even be transported outside the region, he said, for they just wouldn't last.

That is one of the things I love most about summer - experiencing something so simple at the very moment it is finest, enjoying it in full. I created this pizza a few weeks ago to showcase some of the freshest flavours I could find - also pairing two classic Italian combinations that are generally not found together, but the result was delicious. The first is the aforementioned caprese salad. The other is gremolata - usually used as a sort of garnish, served with meat dishes. The ingredients, though - fresh parsley, minced garlic, and lemon zest - seemed like the perfect thing to add. It gives it a delightfully unexpected bright note to the flavour overall.


Recipe:

For the dough, use this bread recipe. Halve the dough to serve 2 people, use the whole recipe for a larger pizza. It also works very well to use egg replacer (powdered, such as Ener-G brand) in place of the eggs.

Stretch the dough out flat on a parchment-paper-covered baking stone. Using olive oil to coat, press it very thin with your fingers.

Make the gremolata: mince 1-2 cloves of garlic and 2 T of fresh parsley, and combine with 1 tsp of lemon zest. Cover the mixture with olive oil and spread it across the pizza dough.

Thinly slice 8 ounces of fresh mozzarella and a few Roma or Campari tomatoes into rounds. Layer the cheese and tomato slices to cover the entire pizza, and scatter chopped fresh basil over that.

Place in a cold oven and turn immediately to 400 F / 200 C. Bake for about 35 minutes, or until the cheese has just slightly begun to brown.











Enjoy! (Oh, and by the way...the strawberries were wonderful.)