table talk / By Darius Brotman

Quest for Bread

The joy of whole wheat

(Jan. 14, 2010)  Waaayyyy back in the day, when God was a boy, I made whole wheat bread from the venerable Tassajara Bread Book. This was a welcome change from the San Francisco sourdough French that was most people’s idea of good bread in olden days. Making bread appealed to an idler like me, with its long stretches of time, simple labor, and magical transformation.

The problem was that uplifting and wholesome as they were, these Tassajara loaves were boring. They never seemed to rise enough to become light; eating them seemed like work. The flavor was overwhelmingly wheat — bracing, but too austere to love. The texture was often crumbly, easily broken and rather inefficient for the purposes of a sandwich loaf. Eventually I changed my bread-making allegiance to “artisan” bread — beautiful, fragrant, crusty loaves with a tangy, elastic interior — high-status Euro-bread involving baking stones, very hot ovens, and an ever-increasing list of special techniques and additional steps — and white flour.

Whole wheat and jam. Photo by Darius Brotman

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But it’s now become clear that we’ll all be better off eating less refined carbs, particularly sugar and white flour. And ultimately I missed the earthy, connected flavor and texture of whole grain. And I wanted a sandwich bread — a neat square as smooth as an English lawn, offering strong but unobtrusive support to cold butter, peanut butter or mayonnaise; sardines and watercress; cold roast pork and thinly sliced red onion; melted Vermont cheddar with crushed garlic and paprika — stop me before I eat again.

So I went back to my basic recipe, but this time I tinkered, applying a whole series of “artisanal” procedures. I think I’ve finally got the goods. The dough starts with an overnight sponge, a batter that ferments slowly at a cool temperature. It’s flavored with honey, toasted wheat germ and rolled oats, also fermented in the sponge. A fresh dough is made in the morning, with a second infusion of yeast. The sponge is incorporated into this gradually, and the dough is well-kneaded, with a resting period called “autolyse” that, they say, allows the gluten strands to relax and therefore stretch better. The dough is allowed to rise fully, twice, in the bowl and in the loaf pan. The loaf is formed carefully, with a smooth body and a tightly stretched top. It’s completed with an egg wash, which improves both the texture and the appearance of the loaf, and sprinkled with sesame seeds (the egg wash makes them stick), which add a lot to the whole experience. The end result is delightful: a hearty but not forbidding loaf, light and airy, very flavorful, but not overly assertive, with a perfect structure — no holes or dense areas — and strong enough to slice very thinly. It’s long keeping — I’ve never had any trouble finishing a loaf. It toasts beautifully. Being 100 percent whole wheat it has a naturally slightly grainy texture. The crust cannot compare to that of a fine baguette, but it’s still good.

Of course, you have to enjoy making bread. You have to start the night before, and be around most of the day. And you can get a good and virtuous 100 percent whole wheat sandwich loaf, such as Rudi’s, from the store for less than $4 — but there are no locally made ones, as far as I know. Long ago, the Co-op Bakery made a severe whole wheat loaf, but they discontinued it, I was told, because not enough people bought it and those who did often returned it because of spoilage.

Use a finely ground flour, such as Bob’s Red Mill or King Arthur. Some bulk-bin whole wheat flour is very coarse, and the bread will not rise well.

Store-bought toasted wheat germ is just fine, but freshly toasted raw wheat germ is even better. Store raw wheat germ in the freezer. Toast the amount you need by stirring it in a dry pan until it just starts to turn golden brown — careful, it burns very quickly after that.

100% Whole Wheat Sandwich Bread

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