How to Make Bread
This week I finally did something that has been on my ‘to-do’ list for a very long time – I learnt firsthand how to bake sourdough bread. And to my (probably unnecessary) surprise, my gluten-filled creations were bloody delicious.
Andy and I discovered Bakery 47 – a small bakery cafe on the Southside of the Clyde about a month after we moved to Glasgow. When we visit on a weekend unless we make it there before 9am, we know we will be joining the queue of croissant/baguette/cake loving Glaswegians spilling out the front door.
For us, the allure is the bread. The crusty yet moist, dense yet sprung, giant loaves of sourdough bread.
I eat a lot of bread. So over the years of eating (and privately testing and reviewing) the sourdough from bakeries around Canberra, my sisters have affectionately (I hope) come to label me a bread snob. To me this is a good thing – if I’m going to eat (a lot) of the carb-heavy food group, the bread consumed better be worth the workouts my habit necessitates.
My unofficial title scratched proudly into my badge, I am happy to announce that the sourdough bread at Bakery 47 in some of the best I have ever eaten anywhere. It is definitely at the top of my list for the best bread in Glasgow.
Needless to say, when I found out that Sam – the head baker and owner of Bakery 47 – was running an ‘Intro to Sourdough Bread Making’ course, I immediately signed up.
The two days I spent with my fellow bread-loving classmates and Sam were brilliant. Sam is a fantastic teacher and is so willing to share his knowledge about how to make a cracking sourdough loaf.
We covered everything - starting at how to choose a good quality flour, how your choice impacts your sourdough starter, how to build up your starter to make leaven (what leaven actually is), how to fold (not knead) your dough, what type of iron skillet to cook your bread in, AND most importantly – a mantra that bread genuinely enjoyed is a successful loaf baked.
Having a chance to ask Sam all about his breads (that are good enough to have me lining up for them in the Scottish winter) was a real treat. Learning from someone so willing to teach is perhaps my most favourite part of education in general. So when you throw baking and eating bread into the mix, you have a very Bec-friendly day of fun.
The science behind bread making is something that really interests me. Rather than cooking, where once you know how to mix flavours together, you can generally always make a delicious meal with a set of basic ingredients, baking bread requires timing and precision.
As my classmates and I exclaimed throughout the days, the skill of weighing the EXACT amount of flour, water, leaven and salt each time, was somehow both relaxing and thrilling. Ah and then the squelching of the dough as I mixed in the final ingredients of water and salt; forming fans resembling corals between my fingers as the dough combined – this is where that precision combines with passion.
Bread therapy – that’s what Sam’s sourdough classes should be called. It truly was space to ask stupid questions (‘no no, happy to help’ Sam still said to me, after even my 100th question), to calmly work through and repeat steps, and to touch and feel and smell and taste the elements of a loaf of truly excellent bread – that is a happy place if I’ve heard of one.
I’m sure I sound mad, and that is ok. Because folding the whole dough like a burrito, before carefully placing it like a baby into its basket for the final proof - this is now part of what bread making is to me. These funny and memorable anecdotes will help me remember to appreciate the work and joy of baking bread as I aim to make it a part of my every week.
Getting to add ‘amateur sourdough bread maker’ to my list of life skills is a really exciting achievement for me. I know I need to practice a lot to be consistently happy with the bread I produce, but I think this is the part I am most excited about – mastering a new craft.
So bring on sourdough 2.0 made by me – but always with a big thank you to Sam and Bakery 47 for getting me started.
Depending how they they turn out, I'll keep sharing my loaves (obviously only for your viewing pleasure - they wont last long enough to literally share them).