Yeast Injection

After my first steps into the world of Sourdough, it was time to analyse the output. Although what I had baked was definitely bread, in the legal definition of the word, it was not exactly going to worry the bakers of Pier 39. Sourdough is serious business - not for the boulanger who is faint of heart. There is a lot of pride at stake, and your own sense of identity as a baker, instead of someone who once bought a bread machine.

Though edible, in the cold light of day, Sourdough Mk 1 was not a thing to be very proud of. Dense, crumbly and bitter, it was too much sour and not enough dough. Time to get back to basics, which in the case of Sourdough, means the yeast. Time to take a good long look at Eric.

The problem with relying on the caprice of airborne particles to grow your yeast is it is difficult to control what you get. As noted last time, the sourdough culture you can grow in flour and water is made up of two main ingredients: airborne yeasts and lactobacilli. The latter is the building block of lactic acid, which gives sourdough its characteristic, eponymous taste. The micro climate of San Francisco has created a unique strain of this bacteria that is sweeter than most other varieties, which gave its bakers a unique taste advantage, and created a geo-specific industry. For those of us unfortunate enough not to live in San Francisco, we have to resort to other methods.

Sir Alex - no hairdryer required.

My sourdough starter needed one fundamental change: more yeast as a proportion of the levain. This would, at a stroke, increase the potency of the rising agent, creating the classic springy texture and at the same time reduce the bitter aftertaste into a thing to savour, not to screw your eyes up at. But how do you stack the odds in your favour in what is supposedly a random process?

Naturally occurring yeasts such as Saccharomyces Cerevisiae, though found in small quantities in the atmosphere, are found in greater concentrations on things like fruit skins. So I started a new white levain in the usual way - flour, water - but on day two I added some raisins and a spoon of natural yoghurt to drive up the yeast content, then continued to feed flour and water for the rest of the week. After 7 days, I had a mix so powerful, it had already exploded across the counter twice, so in honour of my recently-established yeast naming convention, it has been christened Sir Alex.

Apart from his explosive temperament, another quality he shares with his more famous namesake is his ability to get results. By following the same method as last week - except baking using a casserole instead of flat on a tray, to give the loaf shape - the contrast in outcomes could not have been greater. Big, light, chewy, tasty, with a subtle sour note, instead of a bitter aftertaste. That elusive taste I had remembered from all those years ago, recreated in my kitchen. Memories of San Francisco, captured in a few slices.