It’s been a long time since I last blogged about a bread day. I reckoned it was time for a revisit.
For most of our married life, my husband has baked all our bread. When we moved to New Zealand, we applied for a permit to bring his sourdough starter, which was a bit of a family heirloom, having been passed to him by his father (who baked their bread when my husband was growing up).
Once we settled in New Zealand, in a rural location with some land, we built a wood fired bread oven. Our first oven was made of clay we dug from the property, empty wine bottles for insulation, and set atop two overturned concrete livestock water troughs. An oven on the cheap, because we didn’t have much money and weren’t sure we’d use it long term.
We loved it, so when the first oven began to fall apart, we were happy to buy materials for the second. And when we moved, we built a third one, on the new property as one of our first big projects.
A bread oven is different from a pizza oven. Unlike the pizza oven, which relies on a live fire, the bread oven bakes on stored heat.
A bread day starts the day prior, when my husband pulls the sourdough starter out of the fridge and makes his sponge—a wet slurry, more like batter than dough. The sponge bubbles away overnight.
On the actual bread day, the fires is lit early, usually before breakfast. My husband fills the bread oven with wood and lets it burn to coals, then repeats the process in order to ensure the mass of bricks soaks up plenty of heat.
While the fire burns, my husband makes up the dough, using around 7 kg of flour.
By about lunchtime, the dough is ready to be made into loaves, and by early afternoon, the second fire is burnt to coals, which get raked out of the oven. At this point, the oven is running at about gazillion degrees—way too hot for most breads. But each type of bread bakes at a different temperature, and each batch lowers the temperature of the oven.
The first bread in is focaccia—thin and flat, it is in and out of the oven in 5 minutes. Then we throw in a big tray of vegetables to roast. They take 10 to 15 minutes and bring the oven temperature down enough to bake narrow baguettes, which are also out within 10 minutes.
Then come the batards, and then finally the square loves.
At this point, I take over the baking. The oven is now at a good temperature for cakes and pies. I like to bake things like pound cakes on bread days, because they take so long to bake. It’s nice to be able to make them with the ‘free’ heat of the bread oven.
The oven is still quite hot (around 180℃) by the time the cakes are done (usually about dinnertime).
There are a whole bunch of things we’ve done with that heat: toast granola, roast pumpkins, make baked beans, dehydrate fruits and vegetables. As the oven cools further, we’ve made yogurt and dried herbs. There’s useful heat in the oven for a good 48 hours, if we have the time and inclination to use it.
Last weekend we found a new use for the residual bread oven heat—sterilising compost for seed raising mix (which I’m sure I’ll blog about later). I put about 40 litres of compost through in two lots, and I might have gotten a third batch through if I’d had it ready to go.
The final tally from last weekend’s bread day: 1 focaccia, 17 loaves of bread, 2 meals worth of roast vegetables, 2 weeks worth of breakfast granola, 2 cakes, a baker’s dozen of fruit tarts, and 40 litres of sterilised compost. Not bad for a bread day!
Check out this time lapse of a long-ago bread day.
Robinne Weiss 