Adventures in Baking 101: Challah and Cinnamon Rolls

Baking class, week five. White bread, whole wheat bread, baguettes and similar breads are made from what are called “lean doughs,” in that they consist of little more than flour, water, yeast and salt. A little butter or oil may be added, but the doughs are very simple and generally not sweet. “Enriched yeast doughs” or “sweet doughs,” the subject of this week’s class, have similar ingredients but more fat and sugar (yum!). Products made from enriched yeast doughs include sweet rolls of various kinds, sticky buns, doughnuts, brioche, babkas, panettone…basically all my favorite baked goods. This is promising to be a good class.

The plan is to make challah, a traditional Jewish bread, and cinnamon rolls. For each of these the dough is shaped before baking, i.e. not just plopped into a pan in a single piece. For challah the dough is divided into strands and braided. For cinnamon rolls the dough is rolled into a spiral, from which individual rolls are cut. I’ve never made either of these so this is new territory.

Chef Dennis has decided that instead of preparing dough for individual loaves by hand, we’ll break out the large industrial-size mixer to mix and knead the dough for 16 loaves of challah all at once. This is feeling more like a professional enterprise. We go through the steps of mixing, and I notice that the dough requires an enormous amount of butter and eggs, which I find encouraging. After it’s kneaded, the dough is set aside to rise for an hour and a half.

Next is preparing dough for the cinnamon rolls. Once again we’re using the floor mixer, this time to make dough for an estimated 16 dozen cinnamon rolls. The dough takes 9 pounds of butter, 32 eggs, 16 pounds of flour and 2 1/2 pounds of sugar. Good stuff! The filling takes another 3 pounds of butter, 3 pounds of brown sugar and 4 ounces of cinnamon. That’s two or three of those little cinnamon canisters you’d buy in a supermarket. I love baking on an industrial scale!

When the challah dough has finished its first rise, Chef Dennis plops it on a work table to give it a little hand-kneading. At this point it has doubled in size and is the biggest mass of dough I’ve ever seen, measuring more than two feet in diameter and about a foot and a half high. It has a presence and attraction that is hard to describe, like a strange being in the middle of the room. The yeast in it is alive so technically the dough contains life. We all take a turn touching it; it feels soft and slimy and buttery, like nothing I’ve ever felt.

Challah is traditionally braided or formed into a turban-shaped loaf, so the chef cuts off a chunk of dough and demonstrates the simple braiding technique we’re to use. For each loaf the dough is divided into three equal parts. Each of these is rolled into a long strand, like an Italian breadstick but longer. These three strands are then braided together to form the loaf. After braiding, the dough is left to rise a bit more, and we turn our attention back to the cinnamon roll dough.

Once again the dough is plopped in a mass on a worktable, and sections are cut off for individual batches. Instead of braiding, the dough is rolled out to an 18” x 30” rectangle, then spread with a thin layer of brown sugar and cinnamon filling. This is rolled up length-wise to form the spiral shape characteristic of cinnamon rolls. Individual rolls are cut from the spiral and placed on a baking sheet to rise a second time.

My heart leaps when I see my loaf of challah come out of the oven. It’s beautiful. I tell Chef Dennis that this is why I took the class. At this point in his career he’s a little jaded about baking but I think he understands. Not only is it beautiful, it tastes terrific: heavenly light texture, moist, wonderful yeasty aroma. Next time I’ll give the surface a different wash to make it darker and shinier, but it’s a very satisfying first loaf.

The cinnamon rolls are another success. Considering the generic character of the recipes we’ve prepared up to this point, I’m dumbfounded by how utterly good the cinnamon rolls taste. I’m a big cinnamon roll fan, and I don’t believe I’ve ever had a better one. And there’s eight more to take home!

Take home: one loaf challah, eight large cinnamon rolls.

Adventures in Baking 101: Focaccia and Pizza

Introductory baking class, week four. The topic this week is yeast breads. Because they can have lengthy rising times and the class is only(!) five hours long, Chef Dennis has opted for the class to make two “quick” yeast breads: focaccia, an Italian flatbread, and pizza dough. The recipes and techniques for the two breads are very similar, so it’s like making the same recipe twice, which is good practice.

I have made both focaccia and pizza dough many times at home with varying success. To my family even a mediocre from-scratch focaccia is pretty good eating, but of course the bar is raised when serving food in a professional setting. I’m really interested in yeast breads and hope to pick up some tips to make my efforts better.

We break into groups of two students who will collaborate on the recipes. My partner is a quiet guy named Thomas to whom I haven’t talked before. He’s pretty on-the-ball in terms of cooking and we work well together preparing the focaccia dough. The ingredients are few: flour, water, yeast, salt and olive oil. Our dough is mixed first, so Chef Dennis uses it to demonstrate his kneading technique to the class.

I thought I knew how to knead bread dough, but it turns out that I didn’t. The chef’s technique is to fold the flattened ball of dough onto itself with the right hand, then push it away slightly with the heel of the left hand. The right hand then rotates and lifts the dough slightly while folding before the next left-hand push. Ideally this should be quick right-left-right-left action.

The dough is sticky and, if left without moving for even a second or two, seriously adheres to the hands and table and has to be scraped off with a dough scraper. The best thing is to keep it moving, but that’s easier said than done. At home I would add more flour to make the dough easier to handle, but the chef advises against this as more flour will diminish the rise and final texture. It needs to be wet and sticky.

Thomas gets into the groove pretty quickly, but I’m less coordinated and can’t seem to get my hands to work together, resulting in major sticking. I’m determined to improve, and after about ten minutes the first faint glimmers of a decent kneading technique break through. By the end I’ve got my rhythm going and mostly manage to keep the dough moving, though more practice is definitely called for.

The kneading is vigorous work and goes on much longer than I had imagined. Thomas and I get tired and have to trade off several times before the dough reaches the smooth, elastic consistency the chef is looking for. I realize that in my home efforts not only was I kneading improperly but I was not kneading long enough. Good to know.

With the chef’s blessing, the focaccia dough is put away to rise for a couple of hours and we begin the pizza dough. The recipe is similar to focaccia but the dough is drier and easier to handle, and the whole process goes much faster.

For the focaccia Thomas and I opt for a classic topping: olive oil, dried rosemary and kosher salt. For some reason I’ve got in my head that the topping should be simple. Other teams get more ambitious with their toppings (different dried herbs, red pepper flakes, sliced onions, garlic), and I have to admit there are some very colorful focaccias coming out of the oven.

Ours turns out OK but not great. A lot of the dried rosemary falls off the left side, leaving it unadorned and plain looking. I should have pressed the salt and rosemary into the dough more forcefully before baking. The bread also rises unevenly so isn’t flat across the entire surface.

Despite the apparent deficiencies, our focaccia tastes good. The additional salt and rosemary would have added flavor, but the bread itself is tender and has good texture. Over the next two days at home, it’s very satisfying dipped in olive oil and salt.

We have our choice of several pizza toppings, and some students are really loading up their pizzas. Thomas and I again opt for simplicity: tomato sauce, Italian sausage, sliced onions and mozzarella. I’m feeling tired from the kneading and not inclined to do a lot of prep, but also just like the simple approach vs. over the top. Fewer toppings gives the bread more prominence in the overall taste.

While tasting our pizza, I chat with one student whose pizza was over-baked (wasn’t her fault; the chef was handling all the baking and left it in too long). She looks slightly disappointed about the dark brown pie sitting in front of her, and, chewing on a piece of crust, comments that the dough recipe is OK but not great. I concur and mention that there are many things out of our control in the class: the recipe, the ingredients, the baking (oven doors opening and closing), the equipment, and not knowing the kitchen.

In general the recipes in class have been very basic and a bit bland, and the breads we’ve made are definitely not my best efforts as a baker. However I am picking up tips and techniques that make the class interesting and worthwhile.

Take home: one half focaccia, one-quarter sausage and onion pizza.

Adventures in Baking 101: Scones and Biscuits

Introductory baking class, week three. At the end of the second baking class we were given a homework assignment: make a Sour Cream Coffee Cake from a recipe in the textbook and bring in a slice or two for the following class.

The recipe looks simple enough: a filling of brown sugar, cinnamon, butter and chopped pecans is layered on top and in the center of a simple yellow cake. The recipe calls for a 10-inch bundt pan (or tube pan as it’s called in the profession), but the chef says we can make it in a loaf pan if necessary.

The day before class I assemble my ingredients. As I get into making the cake I realize there are many small things that can trip up the novice baker and result in a less-than-stellar product. As in most professional recipes, the ingredients are listed by weight (e.g. 7 ounces of flour vs. 1 1/4 cups). Thankfully I have an old “diet” scale in my home kitchen that is not as good as the scale used in class but will have to suffice. I own a 9-inch bundt pan, not a 10-inch as called for in the recipe. This should be no problem but will require some watchfulness in terms of the baking time. Also I have doubts about the accuracy of our oven temperature, so I’ve invested in an oven thermometer to make sure the cake actually bakes at 350 degrees. I’m trying to give this my best shot.

I’ve made cakes before and have no problem with the recipe. It comes out moist, buttery, and tender. Very happy there. Unfortunately the filling is crumbly and doesn’t meld with the cake very well. When cut, the filling crumbles away from the top and center, resulting in a small pile of brown sugar and nuts on the plate and slices that don’t look neat. I probably should have chopped the pecans more finely, or added more butter to the filling to hold it together better.

On the whole I rate my cake an 8 or 9 for taste and maybe a 5 for appearance. The next day I plate the two best-looking pieces and take them to class.

I intend to talk to Chef Dennis about the crumbling problem, but never get the chance. A glance around the kitchen tells me that some students had much bigger problems than I did. One baked his in a disposable aluminum cake pan but something happened and it didn’t rise properly, so instead of a fluffy cake four or five inches high he ended up with a dense, undercooked cake about 1 1/2” high. Another student made the cake but it didn’t turn out for some reason, then made it a second time in muffin tins because she didn't want to use the thicker pan. Every student's version looks different. Chef Dennis has us place our cakes on a side table, and later while we're baking he looks at them intently while making notes.

This week we’ve got two in-class baking projects: Country Biscuits and Chocolate Chip Scones. Both use the “biscuit method” of cutting butter into the flour before the wet ingredients are added, so the recipes are very similar. The scones are a little sweeter and a little richer due to the addition of egg and half-and-half.

Each student makes his or her own biscuits and scones. I’m happy about this because I like working on my own. Like last week there’s a mad rush for the equipment and ingredients. Everyone, including me, acts as though we were on one of those competitive Food Network shows, and whoever gets done first wins. Later Chef Dennis tells the group that baking isn’t a race, but then says it really is a race. He says something to the effect that “when you’ve got 10,000 biscuits to make…” and a few minutes later makes virtually the same comment about scones ("10,000 scones to make..."). I guess in a professional kitchen the race is to get everything done so you can go home.

During the scone making I reach into my bag of equipment and cut my left index finger on my paring knife. Chef Dennis has to find bandages so I stand around for a few minutes, losing time. We’re cutting the butter into the flour by hand, and it’s definitely awkward with a bandaged, bleeding finger. After a few minutes the first bandage is soaked with blood and I need another. Sometime later the second bandage slips off without my noticing. I discreetly look around for it, checking the worktable, the floors and the sinks where I had washed some dishes, but can’t find it. I try to tell the chef but his attention is torn in ten different directions and I don’t get a chance. The bandage never does turn up. Needless to say I’m glad no one outside of my family will be eating my scones.

When all the biscuits and scones are out of the oven and cooled, we have a group critique. I seem to be one of the few people who actually want to taste their efforts, and stand there eating a scone while the chef talks. No one else is eating. The chef brought in a jar of Nutella and some Bonne Maman strawberry jam, thinking we might have a scone party, but no one seems interested. Baking takes a lot of mental and physical energy and we're all pretty tired.

I’m happy with my biscuits and scones, and both taste good, but they're kind of flat. They would have looked thicker and more appealing rolled out to 3/4” rather than the 1/2” called for in the recipe. Note to self.

My take-home haul is 23 biscuits and 4 1/2 chocolate chip scones.

Adventures in Baking 101: Blueberry Muffins

Introductory baking class, week two. At the second class we finally get to meet our instructor, Chef Dennis. He's probably in his forties, not too tall, with bleached blond hair. My first impression is that he’s withdrawn, quietly hustling around the kitchen getting things ready for the first recipe, not paying attention to the students slowly gathering around the worktables. I’m trying to decide whether I like him or not.

After everyone has gathered we once again go around and tell “our stories” about why we’ve enrolled in the class. Chef Dennis periodically comments about the realities of being in the cooking business: the long hours, how hard it is to make money, that this won’t be like baking cookies on a Sunday afternoon, etc. I’ve been expecting to be warned about taking up baking as a profession so don’t find it surprising. I'm wondering if the chef regrets going into baking. A few students dream of starting restaurants, which I figure is a monumental undertaking that probably won’t come to fruition for most of them. When it’s my turn I’m half-expecting to be discouraged from pursuing baking because of my age, but thankfully that doesn’t happen.

After a short lecture it’s time to start our first actual baking project: blueberry muffins! The class divides into eight teams of two students each. Almost immediately low-level pandemonium breaks out. No one knows where any of the ingredients or equipment are located and everyone is running around trying to gather what's needed. Also the ingredients need to be weighed rather than measured, which creates a bottleneck at the one scale in class. (Later, after we don't need it anymore, I notice a second scale.) There’s one set of measuring spoons but I can’t find measuring cups or a citrus zester, which would help with zesting the lemon needed for the recipe. Luckily one of the students has a zester and it makes the rounds of a few teams. I decide to bring more of my own equipment next week.

I can tell that I’ve done more cooking than my partner, a 21-year-old student named Chris. I have to restrain my impulses to do everything myself. At one point Chris is whisking the wet ingredients (eggs, milk, vanilla, melted butter) and it’s clear that whisking is a relatively new thing for him. The melted butter is coagulating into little balls in the bowl and I ask to take over so I can approach the operation more vigorously. Luckily Chris is gracious and relatively laid-back, and we end up splitting the chores pretty well.

Generally I don’t like cooking in strange kitchens or with other people, however I'm finding this fun. There’s a spirit of camaraderie and no one is panicking or in a bad humor. Also I really like blueberry muffins and know we'll get to eat some before long. Chef Dennis comments that it seems like a good group.

Eventually the muffins go into the oven. Because everyone’s muffins are going in at different times, the oven is being opened and closed constantly, which is a big no-no for good baking. Oh well, nothing to be done about it.

The muffins are supposed to bake for about eighteen minutes, but ours take twenty-five. They’re browner than most other batches and I’m afraid we over-baked them, but they look reasonably good: all about the same size with rounded, golden brown tops and appetizing clumps of blueberries. Some other batches I see have whitish, flattened tops; probably over-mixed and under-baked. In others, clumps of grayish-blue batter have splotched unevenly over the sides of the muffin cups. Yes, I’m happy with ours.

After the muffins have cooled, the students arrange their wares on a worktable and Chef Dennis conducts a short critique. Earlier I had my doubts about the chef but by this time I’ve gotten to like him. He seems like a reasonable fellow and conducts the critique honestly without getting personal or overly critical. He tastes maybe three out of the eight batches. I have to admit I think our muffins look the best. I break open a couple to taste and find that they’re not over-baked. All right!

After the critique, class is over and final cleanup begins. Several students disappear right away even though it’s explicitly stated that no one is to leave until cleanup is completely finished. We’re allowed to take the leftover muffins, and when I get home my son eats three in quick succession and says they’re great! Not bad for a first session.

Take home haul: six blueberry muffins.

Adventures in Baking 101: First Class

The beginning of a school term always entails a lot of activities and preparations, and that’s definitely true of this baking class. The book for the class is a mammoth 800-page hardcover that costs $135.00. I had a twinge of excitement leafing through it for the first time, looking at the hundreds of recipes and fantasizing about all the great things we’ll be making in class. At the same time it dawned on me how much I had to learn, i.e. a LOT. Chapters cover professional tools and equipment (much of which I’m not familiar with), scientific principles of baking, characteristics of the different flours, fats, sugars, etc. etc. And that’s not even getting into making the final products, of which there’s quite a variety: quick breads, yeast breads, cakes and icings, pies, tortes, cookies, custards, creams, chocolate, and so on. It’s a vast amount to learn, and I’m wondering how much of the book we’ll actually get through in sixteen weeks.

I’m pretty nervous before the first class. I realize that I’m entering a new world, that of the professional kitchen, a world that has its own set of protocols and a different way of working from the office environment. It’s very interactive and hands-on, not just sitting in a meeting or in front of a computer doing your own thing. I also start to look critically at my own baking efforts and figure they’re not entirely up to snuff. While they’ve been pretty good, there are a lot of improvements I can make in terms of quality and consistency. That's why I'm taking the class, right?

As you might expect the class kitchen is large, with four large work tables in the center of the room around which the students arrange themselves. Utensils and bakeware are on stainless steel racks against one wall, including dozens of ladles, saucepans, and stacks of extra-large sheet pans (like cookie sheets but bigger). There's a large multi-tiered convection oven and an even larger walk-in oven that can accommodate twelve or fifteen sheets of baked goods at a time. Flour and sugar are in large three-foot cubical containers on wheels so they can be rolled around the kitchen for easy access. A dry storage area and walk-in refrigerator are at the far end of the room.
 
The instructor, a pastry chef at a trendy local bakery, is on vacation and not able to attend the first class, so his sous chef is filling in. That’s a bit disappointing because I really want to get a feel for what the instructor will be like. Strict? Forgiving? Stern? Empathetic? Have to find out next week.

Thankfully the sous chef is not at all stern and I’m feeling comfortable pretty quickly. At 52, I assume I’m the oldest person in the class. Most students appear to be in their 20s, which is to be expected. One woman looks to be in her 40s, and I feel good knowing I’m not the only non-twenty-something.

There's a lot of emphasis placed on professionalism, which is exemplified by the wearing of the chef's uniform. By the third class we’re expected to purchase and wear: 

• A white chef’s coat, clean and wrinkle-free and buttoned to the top 
• Checkered chef’s pants, clean and wrinkle-free 
• White skull cap 
• White apron 
• Closed shoes or clogs 
• Socks

After some discussion we take a tour of the kitchen and food storage areas, and I’m gradually feeling more comfortable and excited to start baking. The class ends with a hands-on activity: mixing water with flour to make a simple dough, which we then knead and play with to get a feeling for its different characteristics and the development of gluten. It feels good to be doing something with my hands, calming even, and the whole class seems to enjoy it.

Adventures in Baking 101: Prologue

So here’s the story: I’m a fifty-something man who’s worked in graphic design and marketing for the past 27 years. I was at my last place of employment for 21 years. The company is facing some challenges (let’s just leave it at that), and the workload and stress of my position increased in toxicity until I realized I had to get out to preserve my own mental health. I gave two months notice and left, without a job during the worst recession in memory. My family fully support my decision, and we have enough savings to get by for a few months.

I’m looking for a design job, but the truth is that I’m at a crossroads in terms of my career. When you’re not caught up in the work-a-day world you have a lot of time to think, and the question that comes up more than any other is “What do I really want to do with my life?” Because I’ve grown increasingly passionate about food in the last ten years, for me the answer is to get more involved with food, or at least to see if working with food on a professional basis is something I’d like to pursue.

I love to cook all kinds of things, but my impression is that being a professional chef is incredibly strenuous. I just saw an episode of No Reservations in which Anthony Bourdain (who is just slightly older than me) worked a double shift at his old alma mater Brasserie Les Halles in New York. By the end of the episode Bourdain was so worn out that he concluded he was too old to cut it as a working chef any longer. I realize that kitchens probably vary in the demands placed on their staff, but that kind of thing gives me pause. I need something I’m going to be able to hack for the next twenty years or so.

Then I thought about baking. I love to bake bread, especially whole-grain, artisanal varieties (such as Jim Lahey’s). Like many fifty-somethings I’m trying to get more fiber into my diet and am seriously interested in whole grains. The artisanal bread movement is gaining ground these days and I could probably contribute something to that.

I also love pastries of all kinds and have a lot of ideas for new offerings. There are so many terrific baked goods from around the world that you never see in middle American bakeries. With its mélange of college students, faculty, international students and artistic types, Bloomington might be adventurous enough to embrace Spanish ensaimadas and Italian zaletti. And why can’t you find a really good croissant in Bloomington? Are they that hard to make?

Furthermore the baking industry seems to be on an upswing. My understanding is that the number of bakeries in the U.S. is growing. In the past two months, two new bakeries have opened in Bloomington, and I’ve seen three or four job openings for experienced bakers. So there’s hope of finding employment.

Of course new undertakings are rarely bump-free, and after some research about what it’s really like to be a baker, a variety of doubts have been nagging me. Currently these are outweighed by an attempt to have a more positive outlook, as outlined below:

Doubt #1: Baking involves being on your feet a lot, probably long hours, which will be a change from my former sit-on-your-can-all-day office job. Reply: I’m a bicyclist with strong legs and in pretty good shape, so I can probably deal with that.

Doubt #2: There are lots of carbs and calories in baked goods, which I don’t need at this time of my life. Reply: Being a baker doesn’t mean you have to EAT everything you make, you can just TASTE. I’ll eat more vegetables and keep up the exercise regimen.

Doubt #3: Baking jobs often take place overnight or very early in the morning, which will put me at odds with my family’s awake-during-the-day asleep-at-night routine. Reply: Maybe it won’t be that bad once we get used to it. Plus there’ll be all those free baked goods I’ll be bringing home to ease the pain.

Doubt #4: I’ll be an entry-level peon who will have to take crap from people who know more than me. Reply: Suck it up. You’ve got to be willing to try new things or you’ll just be in a rut your whole life.

Doubt #5: Baking is not very lucrative, just a notch or two up the payscale from the lowest-paid profession, daycare teacher. Reply: But I love baking!

All in all baking might be a good fit for me, but to find out I need to get some experience and education. I’ve thought about trying to talk my way into an entry-level baking job but I’ll probably feel more confident having some legitimate credentials under my belt. With that in mind I’ve enrolled in an introductory baking class at a local college. Wish me luck!