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In the mad dash to hoard flour (and, to be honest, to stuff my virtual shopping cart sufficiently to earn free shipping), I ended up with a two pound bag of buckwheat flour courtesy of King Arthur Flour. I had been curious about the nutty taste so fondly described by many on the internet, but have learned to be dubious as many reviews are clouded by perceptions of “healthfulness” or the context of gluten-free requirements. My only experience with buckwheat had been in the form of soba noodles, and I didn’t have such a strong memory that I knew what to expect.

Since I’ve been regularly producing white sourdough batards with predictable success, I decided to see what adding a moderate amount of buckwheat flour would do. If you’ve read anything about buckwheat, you’ll know that it’s not related to wheat, and is technically not a grain. I replaced 20% of the flour in my usual sourdough with buckwheat, and put the dough through it’s usual production cycle. I stuck with the 80% hydration base, and performed a series of 6 stretch and folds over the course of 4-5 hours after adding the salt and starter to autolysed flour. One thing that gave me concern was that the dough felt weak and wet. While it built up some strength and bulk during the course of folds, it was noticeably less springy than my all white flour doughs. I suspected this was due at least in part due to the lack of gluten in buckwheat, but it may also be that my buckwheat flour was absorbing less water than the bread flour.

Nonethless, I shaped the dough into a batard as usual (albeit with a bit more difficulty given the dough’s lack of strength), and refrigerated it overnight in a banneton. As usual, I cooked it in a covered baker. When I went to uncover the dough after 20 minutes of baking, the differences were immediately apparent. The oven spring was nearly non-existant and the loaf looked disturbingly flat. I suppressed my urge to toss it out and finished the bake.

To my surprise, though considerably less airy than the white flour breads, not all was lost. The texture was decent, and there was a detectable nutty flavor. It wasn’t particularly memorable, but it did add a unique flavor profile and was less bitter than whole wheat. I’m not sure I’d seek out the flour in the future for this purpose, but it certainly wasn’t a waste. In the future, I’d consider trying a 10% buckwheat loaf and/or dropping the hydration to 70-75%.

I’ve kept my sourdough starter in suspended animation for years, with periodic feedings. A couple attempts at using it for leavening largely failed, so it was relegated to the role of a flavor enhancer in my yeast-based breads. Given the surge in sourdough popularity associated with the COVID-19 pandemic, my interest was rekindled and I brought the starter back to life with a series of room temperature feedings. Through my web-based re-education, I realized that my usual approach of replacing half my starter with equal parts flour and water was amateurish and inadequate. Even after accelerating these feedings to twice a day, I learned that the starter would be unable to develop adequate strength unless I replaced a greater proportion of the starter at each feeding. The so-called 1:5:5 feedings (one part starter to 5 parts water and 5 parts flour) seem to be the gold standard for establishing a robust starter.

My starter was rising regularly on this regimen, so I decided to give it a try. I found some detailed instructions on YouTube from Full Proof Baking which seemed rather laborious, but the results looked impressive. I decided to give it a go. The next day, my first loaf didn’t look bad, though didn’t quite have the rise I expected. To be fair, I hadn’t gone through every last step of the various forms of folds, so perhaps some additional effort was warranted.

My next attempt was a bit higher-rising, but something was off. The base was dense and the crumb was a bit gummy. I had handled the dough somewhat roughly in the transfer from the banneton to the clay baker, and suspected this may have been part of the problem.

My next attempt proved more successful. I’m not sure what was due to better handling vs. a more mature and robust starter, but the differences were obvious.

Look at the difference in rise and texture. The taste was noticeably better, with great flavor and a nice bite to the middle. Loaf after loaf has yielded similar results, using either 75% or 80% hydration.

My dough prep is simple: I mix 360 g flour with 280 g water and autolyse for 30-60 minutes. I then add in 10 g of salt and 80 g of stater and mix by hand for a few minutes until well combined. After 30-60 minutes, I’ll pick up one end of the dough in the bowl, stretch it up, and fold it over the middle. I rotate 90 degrees and do the same. I continue this until I’ve performed 8 folds, the flip the whole mound of dough over and let it rest (covered) for an hour. I do this a total of 5-6 times, resting 45-60 minutes between each set of 8 folds. By this time, the dough is noticeably fuller and puffier. I turn it onto a floured counter and use a bench scraper to sweep it into a roughly round shape. I fold the right side across the middle, then do the same with the left. Starting at the top, I roll it into a cylinder and pinch the seam shut. I transfer it to a banneton well dusted with rice flour (seam side up) and cover with plastic wrap or a shower cap-like bowl cover. It goes into the fridge at least overnight or as much as two nights. I transfer it into a preheated covered baker and into the oven it goes.

Snce my family prefers a crispy, but not particularly thick crust, I bake covered at 500 ºF for 5 minutes, 450º F for 30 minutes, then 450 ºF for 5 more minutes uncovered.

I have kept a sourdough starter in my fridge for at least five years or so. I knew very little when I started, but followed a range of web-based instructions for how to get started. I quickly tired of the twice-daily “feedings” of flour and water (not to mention the perceived wastefulness of discarding half of it each time). When I discovered the starter could be maintained in the refrigerator, with feedings spaced to as much as once a week, this seemed like a natural choice.

The feedings ended up coinciding with various bread-baking ventures, so I’d just add the half of the starter to my bread recipe whenever needed, and replenish the used flour and water. Since I used a 100% hydration starter (equal amounts of flour and water), the math was easy. As the refrigerated starter wasn’t particularly active (“unfed”, in sourdough terms), I used instant yeast in whatever amount was called for in the recipe, assuming the starter wouldn’t add much leavening power.From time to time, I’d try various experiments with using the starter as the main source of leavening, but it was so much weaker than the commercial yeast, it didn’t seem worth the effort.

With home sourdough mania spreading almost as fast as COVID-19, it seemed like the right time to give it another shot. After some re-reading, I realized that I had probably never been letting my starter become active enough to serve as the main sole source of yeast. I brought it back to room temperature and started the twice-daily feeding regimen again. Since we have started composting, the “discard” didn’t seem so offensive, and I’m spending a lot more time at home regardless. I had converted the starter to whole wheat (which I’m told favors rapid resurrection of the yeast), but started converting it back to white since I now have plenty of white flour and it’s reportedly more predictable once the yeast starts reactivating. Indeed, within a few days, the starter was visibly active, full of a bubbly texture that rose and collapsed between feedings. I tried the “float test” (adding a small amount of starter to a glass of water to see if it floats) and, whlie the results were mixed, I decided to charge ahead.

I added 100 g of starter to 350 g of bread flour, 8 g of salt, and about 2 g of diastatic malt powder (for some extra insurance), along with 230 g of water (for a 70% hydration dough). After some vigorous stirring and stretch-and-fold kneeding, I let it rest. It took about 2-3 hours to double (a bit longer than commercial yeast, but nothing egregious ). I shaped a batard and put it in a proofing basket. About an hour later, it was ready to go into my preheated covered baker. I baked covered at 500 ºF for 12 and a half minutes, 450 ºF for the same amount of time, then left it uncovered for the last 10 minutes to allow the crust to crisp a bit. The internal temperature was nearing 210 ºF at this point (a bit hotter than ideal), so I may cut it to 20 minutes of covered baking next time, but the results were much better than I had anticipated. The flavor was not particularly sour, but it had a depth and complexity that was just not possible with the instant-yeast equivalent.

I’m sold, at least for now. While commercial yeast can be more forgiving and predictable, I’m eager to try new experiments with this beast. In fact, my bagel recipe is currently, I hope, slowly leavening a batch of bagels in my refrigerator right now. The residual fear of a failed-rise led me to proof for 15 minutes prior to refrigerating and to extend the refrigeration time from 24 to 36 hours, but tomorrow will be the real test.

Unlike my youngest child, who frequently requests the crust of even the softest breads removed before she will touch it, my search for intensely crusty bread seems boundless. The crustier, the better, even if it leaves my mouth ravaged by a trauma only rivaled by several bowls of Cap’n Crunch. Since crusty breads are so ephemeral, they make the ideal home baking project.

Steam is key to developing a crust, and I’ve created reasonable results with a hot panful of water accompanying the loaf in my oven, but I’ve been curious if a cloche (a clay baker) would come…clocher to achieving my goal. It seems so simple – the dough in the confined space of the cloche serves as its own steam source, no precarious shuffling hot cast iron required.

After acquiring a batard-shaped clay baker, I set to work. Using a simple lean dough (flour, water, yeast, salt), I preheated the cloche for 30 minutes to 500 ºF then carefully transferred my shaped loaf into the hot vessel before making a few quick artistic slashes. I replaced the cover and baked for 20 minutes covered, then reduced the temperature to 450 ºF for 10 minutes. For the final 10 minutes, I removed the lid to allow the curst to firm up, then let the resulting loaf cool

I’m impressed. The crust is fantastic and, unlike some uncloched versions, doesn’t fade away completely after a rest. The bread itself retains sufficient moisture despite the long bake, as it spends much fo the time enclosed in clay.