Getting Started With Sourdough

 I'll be leading a session on sourdough bread basics at this year's Hay River Transition Initiative's Traditional and Green Skills Event , this Saturday, March 5, so I thought it would be wise to revisit the process of starting and nurturing a traditional sourdough starter, or levain, as the French call it.  My starter is now 13 years old, so obviously it's been a while since I went through the whole process.  I've got a sort of time-lapse series of photos below, showing the starter progressing from a rather unremarkable mixture of rye flour and water to a still unremarkable, but bubbly, mixture of rye and wheat flour and water teeming with microbial life in the form of natural wild yeasts and various beneficial (or, at least, not harmful) bacteria, i.e., sourdough starter.  Or so I assume.  You'd need a microbiologist to analyze it in order to know exactly what's in there, but of course for home bread baking purposes, we take a pragmatic approach. 

Perhaps best to start with a definition.  Sourdough bread is bread that is leavened--made to rise--with a starter culture (see above, bubbling, microbial) rather than with storebought yeast, whether cakes of fresh yeast or active dry yeast, also called baker's yeast. The starter may be one maintained as I describe here, or it may just be a lump of dough saved from the current batch of bread, used to leaven the next batch, from which another lump is saved, to leaven the next batch....  A starter is, in brief, a homemade yeast factory.

Sourdough breads are different from "normal" yeasted breads in that they generally take much longer to proof (rise), are usually denser and moister, keep very well, and may or may not have a noticeably sour flavor.  The fact that sourdough breads may not be particularly sour points up one problem with the terminology.  I sometimes refer to these types of bread as "naturally leavened," but this isn't perfect, either, since the types of yeast you purchase are not unnatural, not at all.  The French understand that pain au levain just means bread leavened with a starter culture, but we lack a convenient, clear term for this.  Never mind:  as long as you understand that the "sourdough" bread you bake in Wisconsin or Minnesota or wherever isn't going to taste like that loaf you bought on Fisherman's Wharf while vacationing in San Francisco, we should be fine.

Starter is NOT "an ingredient"

The main piece of advice I always give to folks just starting out with natural leaven bread baking is to pay deliberate, concerted attention to maintaining the health and vigor of your starter.  The starter is a living thing that requires care and nurturing, rather like a moist, microbial child.  (Which, come to think of it, could well describe many regular, human children, as well.)  If you think of the starter as an ingredient in the bread, like salt, honey, flour, what have you, and assume you can just chuck X amount of poorly maintained starter into a dough and it will magically produce wonderful bread, well, that's not going to happen.  You'll be disappointed, and discouraged, and probably stop try to make sourdough breads, assuming it's just too hard; it's not.

But, if you take the approach that starter is not an ingredient in the ordinary sense, but rather that it is the bread itself, in nascent, incipient form, then you'll have a much, much better chance of success.  Starting with a relatively small amount of lively starter, you build up a dough which really is just an expansion of the starter.  Those microorganisms that thrive in a healthy starter will likewise colonize the whole dough through the processes of mixing, kneading, proofing, and finally baking, and they are what leaven the dough--make it rise--as well as providing that distinctive sourdough flavor and texture.

Ignore your starter at your peril.  Take good care of it, and it will make you very happy.  Below I'll talk about my general routine for maintaining and baking with a sourdough starter.  To begin, here's how you get your own going.

A basket of sourdough loaves from my farmers market baking days, aka "The Real Bread Years"(2003-2010).  From left, Wheaty, Strasbourg Seedy, Walnut Bread

Starting a starter

There are lots of ways to get a starter culture going.  Some people recommend using apples, bananas, cooked potatoes, even Champagne grapes to capture and nurture wild yeast.  You can even use a bit of commercial yeast to get things going—over time the wild yeasts that exist in the flour with which you feed the starter, and in the air around us, will give their unique qualities to the starter.

I favor a method of culturing a starter which I like it for its simplicity, and because it’s so true to the basic nature of bread, using only flour and water.

Go to the co-op and get a few pounds of organic rye flour—I use the kind distributed by Whole Grain Milling of Welcome, MN; it’s available at most co-ops in western Wisconsin and the Twin Cities.  Rye flour is excellent for starting a culture because it’s high in sugar and tends to have a lot of natural yeast in it

Day 1—In a glass or ceramic bowl (don’t use metal or plastic--unless it's NSF food service grade plastic, which in fact is what I keep my starter in now) mix ¾ cup of rye flour with ½ cup of filtered or untreated well water.  The mixture will be like thick porridge.  Cover with plastic wrap and set aside in a warm place—70 to 75 degrees—for two to three days.  (With the light on and the door ajar, our oven is right around 75 degrees.)  After two days the mixture should have swelled up a little, and it should have a bit of a sour smell.  If this hasn’t happened in two days, leave it another day.  Note:  Sometimes the flour can go moldy during this stage.  If you see mold on the mixture, throw it out and start again, making sure you use a very clean bowl.

Below is the mixture after two days.  You can see that it has puffed up a bit--note the slight separation between the bowl and the edge of the dough.  It may smell a bit sour, or it may just smell sort of grainy, porridgy.  As long as it doesn't smell horrible, poopy or dumpsterish, you're on your way.

Day 3: When the mixture is slightly swelled and perhaps a bit sour-smelling, discard half the mixture.  To the half remaining, add ½ cup of organic rye flour and ½ cup filtered water, mix well, cover with plastic wrap and put it back in its warm place for 24 hours.  [NOTE:  The reason we discard some of the starter in these early stages is that we need to keep adding flour, but don't want to wind up with too much starter.  If you find this instruction loathsome, perhaps find a friend or three or four to go in with you, and you'll all wind up with starter, and waste very little.  This concept is the basis of "friendship bread," a sort of dough-based chain letter.  Remember those?]

Below, the starter on day four, loosening up as the culture proliferates, starting to bubble.  It should smell a bit sour now.

Day 4—By now the mixture will be smelling quite sour, and may look a bit bubbly.  Throw half of it away again, and this time add ¾ cup of water, and ½ cup each rye and unbleached all-purpose white flour.  Mix, cover, let sit another 24 hours.

Below, the starter on Day 5, after its first wheat flour meal.  It's quite liquid and bubbly.  Exciting!  We're close to having a usable sourdough starter!

Day 6—Don’t discard any starter this time.  Add 2 cups water, ½ cup rye flour, and 1 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour (you  may need to move it to a larger container). Your starter should now be ready to use, but will benefit from a couple more refreshings.  Store it in a glass container with a tight-fitting lid in the refrigerator.

Below, the starter on Day 6, much like Day 5, only moreso.  Very bubbly, developing a nice sour aroma.  A mature, well refreshed sourdough starter has an appealing winy or vinegary smell to it.  Old starter in need of refreshing will smell acrid and unappetizing--it sometimes reminds me of sniffing a can of wall paint.  That's not to say the smelly starter can't be saved, only to stress that a well maintained starter smells good, appetizing.

In the photo below, you can kind of maybe sort of see the texture of a very active starter.  It's aerated, light, almost mousse-like.

Moved to a larger container from the bowl I started it in, the new starter is fermenting robustly:

Here's why you go to the trouble of maintaining a sourdough starter.  I refreshed it a couple more times after Day 6 before baking, and below are the first loaves I baked with the new starter, mostly unbleached white flour, a bit of rye, whole wheat bread flour, and a handful of cornmeal:

 Maintaining the Starter

I have a sort of idiosyncratic program for feeding my starter, which involves three different flours.  It's a little more complicated than some methods, but I've done it for so long now, and have been so happy with the results, I'm not changing now.  The basic method is this:  To each 3 cups of existing starter, add 2 cups of water and 2 cups of flour.  That flour may be all-purpose or whole wheat.  I've not experimented with an all-rye starter, but that can be done, as well.  I'm sure the Internet will provide abundant advice.  Whatever you do, don't use bleached flour, because, 1) It's gross, and 2) Doesn't that sort of defeat the whole purpose of an endeavor like this?

My personal method is this:  as above, 3 cups existing starter, 2 cups water, then: 1 cup all-purpose unbleached flour; 1/2 cup whole wheat bread flour (from Whole Grain Milling), 1/2 cup organic rye flour.  Since almost all my breads contain at least some whole grains, I like having a slightly grainy starter, but I also find it too complicated to maintain more than one starter.  I honestly have no idea how I came up with this formula, only that I fixed upon it a long time ago, and it works.

After I have refreshed the starter, I let it sit at room temperature for a few hours or overnight, until bubbles start to form on the surface again, then refrigerate it.

About "the sponge"

A common technique in sourdough baking is to add one step prior to mixing up the final dough.  This is generally known as a sponge.  You can look at it as a final refreshing of the starter, but this time you add flour(s) specific to the type of bread you'll be making.  For example, in my recipe for a dense European-style rye bread, I combine starter, water, and rye flour only.  I mix this up the night before making up the final dough.  My whole wheat sourdough starts with a sponge of starter, water, whole wheat bread flour, and a bit of rye.  To make the dough, I add some more whole wheat flour and salt, finish by adding all-purpose unbleached to create a workable dough (though you could use all whole wheat).

The sponge method ensures good, vigorous fermentation, and shortens the proofing time for the dough.  It may mean the final bread is a bit less sour than if you mixed the dough without a sponge. That's either better or worse depending on your taste.  With an overnight sponge I would make up the dough at, say, 8:00 a.m., and the dough would be ready to loaf up at 1:00 or 2:00 p.m., ready to bake at 2:00 or 3:00--a lot depends, of course, on air temperatures, even relative humidity, the particular starter, etc.  Without a sponge the dough will need to proof probably twice as long.  You can try different approaches and see what works for you.

Establish a baking schedule

To get the best results from baking with sourdough starter, you have to plan ahead.  If you want to bake on Saturday, for example, you should take your starter out of the fridge on Thursday night.  (Your starter will probably look pretty unappetizing at this point, with some scummy-looking stuff on top, perhaps a layer of yellow or grayish water underneath, and the flour all sunk to the bottom.  Overnight, as the mixture warms up and the yeast becomes active, it should rise up in a uniform, bubbly mass.)   

Let it come to room temperature overnight.  Friday morning refresh the starter as described above—stir the starter and pour some off, leaving 3 cups; add the water and flour; mix well.  Friday night you may want to make a “sponge” for your dough, which is basically another refreshing of the dough, but with a flour blend specific to the type of bread you want to make.  Saturday morning you’ll mix the dough, and Saturday afternoon you’ll bake it.

If your starter hasn’t been refreshed for more than a week, take it out Wednesday (for Saturday baking) and refresh it twice—Thursday morning and again Friday morning—before making the sponge on Friday night.  It’s best to refresh your starter at least once a week, though you can leave it in the fridge for two weeks and maybe a little longer, and still bring it back to life.

When your starter has sat around unattended for a few days, you may see a thin liquid layer at the top.  No worries.  Just stir it into the starter and carry on.

There may also appear a sort of crust on top of the starter.  If it's quite thick, I sometimes lift it up and throw it away.  If not too thick, I just stir it into the starter along with any accumulated liquid.

Natural leaven bread baking has inspired many volumes of theory, recipes, and mystical reflection.  I can’t cover all aspects of the process here, but fortunately there are lots of books you can refer to.  Sometimes the experts contradict each other on the “best” way to do something.  Some books take a very precise, almost scientific approach, while others are almost like religious tracts.  Here are some books that I’ve found useful:

The Art of Handmade Bread, by Dan Lepard (or anything else by Lepard)

Baking with Julia, by Dorie Greenspan

Artisan Baking Across America, by Maggie Glezer

The Italian Baker, by Carol Field

In French:

Pains de Tradition, by Marguerite Rousseau (I really like  this one)
100% Pain, by Eric Kayser, et al

A couple of recipes:

A Mixed Leaven Loaf

Especially in a chilly winter home, adding a bit of active dry yeast to your sourdough can give a more satisfying result.  In no way do I consider this "cheating."  It's just another way of producing delicious bread.  It also shortens the process, allowing you to mix up a dough in the morning, bake it in late afternoon, and have lovely fresh bread for dinner.

This batch makes about 3 pounds of dough, enough for 3 smaller or 2 large loaves. These instructions are generally for free-form loaves baked on a stone.  It's the method that works best for this sort of dough.

1 1/2 cups warm water
1/2 rounded teaspoon active dry yeast
2 cups starter, 450 grams
1/3 cup rye flour
1/2 cup whole wheat bread flour
2 1/2 to 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon honey, optional

Put the water in a large mixing bowl and sprinkle the yeast over the top. Let sit for 5 minutes.  Add the starter, salt, and honey. Stir in the rye and whole wheat bread flour, and 2 cups of the all-purpose. Gradually add more flour to form a dough, not too soft, not too firm. Knead the dough very briefly, just enough to bring it all together.  Then let the dough rest for 15 to 20 minutes. This resting period is important, as it allows the flours to uniformly absorb the liquid.  It also makes the dough lots easier to work with once you come back to it.

 After 15 to 20 minutes, bring the dough onto a floured countertop and knead until you have a smooth, elastic dough--it should bounce back brightly when you poke it with your finger.  Add flour as required to keep the dough from sticking to your hands or the work surface, but add just a bit at a time.  The kneading should take no more than 3 or 4 minutes, if that.

Return the dough to the bowl, cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and let rise for 4 to 6 hours, until the dough shows definite signs of rising--it may not have doubled in size, but will now be soft and retain the imprint of a finger poke.

Divide and shape the dough as you prefer, and let rise another 1 1/2 to 2 hours--rising times depend HUGELY on ambient temperature; in a 62-degree winter home the dough will rise much more slowly than in a summer kitchen at 80 degrees.  Refrigerating the dough for part of the rising time is a good option if room temp is too warm.  Slower rising generally = better flavor and texture.

Preheat your oven with baking stone in place to 475.  When the oven is hot, move your loaves to a cornmeal-dusted peel and slash the surface as you like.  Slide the loaves onto the stone.

Adding steam to the oven helps create a good crust and promotes maximum expansion of the loaves.  Some people use a spray bottle to add water a couple of times in the first 10 minutes of baking.  I have sacrificed an old cast iron skillet which I keep on the bottom rack of my oven, a few inches below the stone, and I slide 5 or 6 ice cubes into the skillet at the start of baking.  With this method, you don't have to open the door again during early stage of baking.

Bake the bread at 475 for 10 to 15 minutes, until it just starts to brown, then reduce the heat to 430 and bake for another 10 to 15 minutes, until the bread is nicely, uniformly browned, and the loaves sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.  NOTE:  Baking times and temps will vary HUGELY from one oven to another.  Get to know your appliance, and adjust accordingly.

When the bread is done, cool on a wire rack.


Here's a recipe for a basic crusty, hearty loaf.  This makes about 2 pounds of dough:

Basic Small Batch "White" Sourdough

250 grams (1 cup) starter
1 cup water
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 cup whole wheat bread flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup cornmeal, optional
1 1/2 to 2 cups all-purpose unbleached flour

In a large mixing bowl combine all the ingredients EXCEPT the all-purpose flour.  Add 1 cup of the AP flour and mix well, then add more AP flour a bit at a time until you have a soft but workable dough--i.e., not too sticky, not too stiff.

Proceed with proofing, shaping, baking as described in the Mixed Leaven recipe.

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And here are a couple of recipes I put together for sourdough classes I taught a number of years ago, based on breads I made a lot during my farmers market baking career (aka "The Real Bread Years").  They are probably overly elaborate, possibly redundant in some areas, and possibly even contradictory to other things I may have said.  But, they will work.  Offered here without apology.  Well, with a little apology.  The batches are kind of huge, probably best to halve them.

European Sourdough Rye

4 cups water

1 ½ cups refreshed starter

3 ½ cups rye flour

In a large bowl, mix the water, starter, and rye flour to make a sponge.  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let stand at least 8 hours or overnight.

1 ½ Tbl salt

1 cup whole wheat bread flour

5 cups unbleached all-purpose white flour, plus extra for kneading

1 tsp vegetable oil (canola, corn, sunflower, etc.—not olive oil)

Cornmeal for dusting the peel

Add the salt, whole wheat flour, and 2 cups all-purpose flour to the sponge and mix well.  Add another 2 cups all-purpose flour, mix again.  Add the 5^th cup gradually, and when the dough is firm enough to knead place it on a floured counter or table. 

Knead, adding all-purpose flour as required, for 2 to 3 minutes.  Allow the dough to rest for 10 minutes.  Put the bowl in the sink and fill it with water to soak.

Knead the dough for another 5 minutes or so, adding flour very sparingly as needed, until the dough is smooth and elastic—it should bounce back almost immediately when you poke in your finger a half-inch.  (Note:  the whole grains in this dough mean that it will not be “smooth” the way a white dough is smooth; it should be uniform in texture, not lumpy.)

Wash the mixing bowl, dry it, and oil it with the 1 tsp vegetable oil.

Knead the dough for another minute.  Place it in the oiled bowl, then turn the dough over with the oiled side up.  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, place it in a warm (70 to 80 degree) spot and let the dough rise till roughly doubled, 3 to 4 hours.

Divide the dough—however many loaves you want to make, it’s up to you.  This recipe will make 4 good-sized loaves, or 3 big loaves, or more smaller loaves, as you choose.

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.  If using a baking stone, place the stone in the oven before preheating.  Place a small cast iron skillet on the bottom of the oven, or on the bottom rack. (Note:  A cast iron skillet used for this purpose will be ruined for any other use; we’ll be putting water and ice cubes in the skillet to create steam in the oven during baking.  If you have an electric oven, you may throw the ice cubes and water directly on the bottom of the oven, though this will discolor and slightly warp the floor of your oven over time.)

Shape the loaves.  Place on a peel or cutting board dusted with cornmeal.  Cover with lightly oiled plastic wrap or a plastic cover.  Let rise 35 to 50 minutes, till the dough appears well-risen, though it may not double in size at this stage.

Place the loaves on a wooden peel lightly dusted with cornmeal. 

Before baking you may, if you like, lightly dust the loaves with flour sifted through a sieve.

With a single-edge razor blade or very sharp knife, slash the top of the loaves—one long slash down the middle, or three diagonal slashes along an oval loaf, or any pattern you like, as long as it is fairly regular.

Have ready 2 ice cubes and ¼ cup water.

If using a baking stone, place the stone in the oven before preheating.  Place a small cast iron skillet on the bottom of the oven, or on the bottom rack. (Note:  A cast iron skillet used for this purpose will be ruined for any other use; we’ll be putting water and ice cubes in the skillet to create steam in the oven during baking.)

Slide the loaves from the peel onto the preheated baking stone.  Toss the ice cubes, then the water into the cast iron skillet—careful not to scald yourself with the steam!

Bake at 450 for 10 minutes, then turn the loaves around in the oven for even baking and turn the oven down to 425.  Bake another 15 to 25 minutes more, depending on the size of the loaves, until the loaves are nicely browned and sound hollow when thumped on the bottom (an instant-read meat thermometer will read 200 degrees at the center of a fully baked loaf)

Cool the loaves on a rack when done.  Allow to cool at least 1 hour before slicing.

Variations:  This dough is an excellent base for fruit or nut breads.  You can make three kinds of bread from one batch of dough.

Bake one third of the dough plain.

For Walnut Bread:  After the first rising:  Flatten one-third of the dough into a large rectangle.  Sprinkle with 8 ounces roughly chopped toasted walnuts.  Press the nuts into the dough, roll the dough up and knead  for a minute or two to distribute the nuts.

For Fig Bread: After the first rising:  Flatten one-third of the dough into a large rectangle.  Sprinkle with 8 ounces roughly chopped dried figs.  Press the pieces of fig into the dough, roll the dough up and knead for a minute or two to distribute the fruit.

You can also use raisins, dried apricots, currants, or a combination.  One of our popular breads is a “Very Fruity” loaf made with figs, dried apricots and currants.  Our Raisin Rye is made with black and golden raisins and currants—the “currants” I’m talking about here are the tiny raisins called currants or sometimes Zante currants, not the red or black currant fruit used to make jelly.

Organic Sourdough Wheat

1 ½ cups starter

4  cups water

½ cup organic rye flour

3 cups organic whole wheat bread flour

Make the sponge:  Mix all the ingredients above in a large bowl.  Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at least 8 hours, or overnight.

2 cups  organic whole wheat bread flour

1 ½ Tbl salt

3 to 4 cups organic unbleached white flour, such as Swany White, Gold N White, etc.

1 tsp vegetable oil

Cornmeal to dust the peel or baking sheets

To the sponge add 2 cups whole wheat bread flour, salt, and 2 cups organic white flour.  Mix well.  Add white flour a cup or so at a time, and mix till the dough is too stiff to mix with a spoon.

Turn the dough out onto your kneading surface.  Knead for 2 minutes, adding flour as needed.  Let dough rest for 10 minutes.  Put the bowl in the sink and fill it with water to soak.

Knead the dough for about 5 minutes, again adding flour sparingly as needed.  At the end of this kneading the dough should be smooth and elastic—it should bounce back immediately when you poke it with your finger.

Wash the bowl, dry it, and oil it with the 1 tsp vegetable oil.

Knead the dough for another minute or two, put it in the bowl, turn it oiled side up, cover with plastic wrap and let rise till doubled in size, 4 to 5 hours.

Shaping and proofing the loaves:  This bread is best in fairly large loaves.  Divide the dough into 3 or 4 pieces.  Form into rounds or ovals.  Set them to rise on a peel, cutting board, or baking sheet dusted with cornmeal—or in floured bannetons.  Cover with lightly oiled plastic wrap or a plastic cover.  Let rise in a warm place for about 1 ½ hours, till well risen.

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.  If using a baking stone, place the stone in the oven before preheating.  Place a small cast iron skillet on the bottom of the oven, or on the bottom rack. (Note:  A cast iron skillet used for this purpose will be ruined for any other use; we’ll be putting water and ice cubes in the skillet to create steam in the oven during baking.)

Just before baking, slash the top of the loaves with a single-edge razor blade or very sharp knife.  Have ready ¼ cup of water and 2 ice cubes.

Slide the loaves off the peel onto the stone.  Toss the ice cubes, then the water into the cast iron skillet—careful not to scald yourself with the steam!

 Bake at 450 for 20 minutes.  Lower the heat to 425, turn the loaves around in the oven for even baking, and bake another 12 to 15 minutes, till the loaves are very brown and sound hollow when thumped on the bottom.  Cool on a rack.  This bread should cool for at least 2 hours before slicing.

Optional refrigeration method:   Chilling the dough makes it rise more slowly, and will give the bread a chewier texture, crunchier crust, and, with natural leaven breads, a more pronounced sour taste.  French bakeries often proof their bread at low temperatures for 18 hours or even longer.  You can get close to this quality by chilling the dough in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours, or overnight.  After removing the dough from the refrigerator punch it down and knead it for a minute or two.  Allow it to sit at room temperature for 2 to 4 hours to warm up—this will depend on how cold it was to start with.  Divide into loaves as above, then let the loaves proof a bit longer than above, 2 hours or more, so the dough has come to cool room temperature before baking.  Bake as above.

Fun with Fermentation 2014

I'm putting this up for those who attended my fermented vegetables session at the Hay River Transition Initiative's 2014 Green and Traditional Skills Day, or anyone else who's interested.

Here are some of my posts dealing with the topic:

Crock-fermented vegetables

Kimchi

Mixed vegetable ferment in a gallon jar

Sauerkraut in jars

Choucroute garnie


And here are the key books in my fermentation library:

The Art of Fermentation, Sandor Katz

Wild Fermentation, Sandor Katz

Wild Fermentation is more practical and recipe-oriented; The Art of Fermentation is encyclopedic.  I reach for Wild Fermentation far more often.

Preserving Food Without Freezing or Canning, the Farmers and Gardeners of the Terre Vivante Collective

Fascinating traditional preservation techniques from the French countryside.

The Joy of Pickling, Linda Ziedrich

My go-to book for all sorts of pickles, relishes, chutneys, etc., fermented and otherwise.

That should keep you busy for a while. Go forth and ferment!

Smoking Basics (The Hay River Transition Initiative Class Handout, with Some Additional Notes)

At the third Hay River Transition Initiative's Traditional and Green Skills Day, this past Saturday, I led a seminar on basic home smoking--"Low-Stress, Small Batch Smoking," I think I called it.  There was no pre-registration for the classes this  year, so I had no idea how many people would be attending my session.  Well, there were way more people than I expected, and so I had nowhere near enough handouts to go around.  So I'm posting the notes here, and will be getting word out through the various email lists that serve this beautiful area of Near North Wisconsin.  I'm sure there's info here that the general Trout Caviar readership can benefit from, too, though much of it has appeared here before.  I've added some notes that occurred to me after I put the handout together, as well. 

                                                
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Smoking was once a common means of preserving food, and still is in many parts of the world. In modern America we smoke for flavor more than preservation, and we’ve mostly turned the job over to large, industrial producers. It’s worth relearning the basics of home smoking.

You will need:

      *  A covered barbecue grill (mine is a Meco, clamshell type, though a Weber is also fine)

     *   A smaller grill, preferably also covered, to hold hot coals to replenish the smoker

     *   Natural chunk charcoal, available at most larger grocery or hardware stores (& Menard’s)

     *   A chimney starter for the charcoal (no lighter fluid, please)

     *   Some fragrant wood, chips or chunks (I use oak and apple; in the past I’ve used maple and hickory bark)

     *   An instant-read meat thermometer, inserted in the top vent, is handy for monitoring temperature

This technique is hot smoking, as opposed to the cold smoking that produces lox and certain other delicacies. It involves cooking the pre-cured (salted or brined) meat or fish rather slowly with indirect heat in the presence of smoke.

Light a chimney starter full of charcoal. When it’s ready, dump half the charcoal in the main grill, half in the smaller. Move the coals in the main grill to one side. Add some fresh charcoal to the smaller grill, and put the lid on with the vents open just a tad, so those coals stay hot but don’t burn up too quickly.

Place some smoking wood—apple, oak, etc., a handful of chips or a chunk or two—on top of the coals in the main grill. Place the items to be smoked on the side of the grill grate away from the coals: it’s important that the food isn’t directly over the coals. Put the lid on with the vent about halfway closed. Place the instant-read thermometer in the vent opening. Adjust vent and coals to keep the temperature around 200 to 225 degrees. Replenish with coals from the smaller grill as needed. Add more smoking wood chips or chunks as needed.

Fish of up to a pound will be done in 1 ½ to 2 hours; bacon in chunks of 1 to 1 ½ pounds will be done in 2 to 3 hours. Turn the meat or fish over every 45 minutes or so. At temperatures this low (even though it’s called hot smoking), it’s hard to overcook the foods. If, after smoking for the times designated, you’re not sure the food is fully cooked, just place it in a 200-degree oven for another thirty minutes.

It’s as simple as that. Once you’re comfortable with the basics, there’s no end of resources—books, TV series, classes, etc.—to take you on myriad smoking adventures. (One book I really like is Peace, Love, and Barbecue by Mike Mills.)

Some notes:

     *   Many smoking recipes tell you to soak the smoking wood. I don’t. The point of the smoking wood is to produce smoke, not steam.

      *   Remove the lid from the smaller grill about ten minutes before you want to add fresh coals to the larger grill. This step allows air in to perk up those coals, which are merely smoldering.

     *   While the salting and smoking provide a certain amount of preservative qualities, the finished products of these recipes are not intended for long-term storage. The bacon can be frozen, but the fish should be eaten promptly.

Home-Smoked Trout

I usually smoke brown trout because that’s mostly what I catch. If you’re buying trout, it will probably be farmed rainbow trout. I’ve also used this brine and method on lake trout and herring.

In a medium saucepan, heat 4 cups water and add ½ cup salt and ½ cup brown sugar, stirring to dissolve.

Remove from heat and let cool. I have added cracked peppercorns and/or herbs to the brine.  Try different flavorings if you like.

A 12-to-14-inch fish is ideal for smoking, but smaller or larger ones can be smoked, too. Just brine and smoke for a longer or shorter time, depending on size.  Given those ideal 14-inch trout, brine them, refrigerated, overnight. Fish smaller than 12 inches can take up sufficient brine in 4 to 6 hours. A couple of hours before you plan to smoke, remove the fish from the brine, rinse in cold water, and set them on a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Using wooden picks—first snip off the sharp ends so they don’t go right through the flesh—prop open the body cavity of the fish to allow them to smoke and cook evenly. Smoke at 200–220 degrees for 2 hours.

[Note:  I almost always smoke bone-in fish, but for this class I could only get butterflied rainbow trout--well, if I had planned ahead I could have order whole fish from either Star Prairie or Bullfrog "Eat My Fish" Trout Farm, but you know how things go sometimes.  I took the same approach with the butterflied fish as I would with bone-in fish, and...the results were not good.  Because the flesh of the boneless fish was more accessible to the brine, and had been cut up a bit in the boning process, the fish turned out much too salty--also, I left them in the brine too long when a round of errands kept me away from home longer than expected.  Since the final product was both  unpalatable and unattractive, I didn't even bring the fish to class--but I should have, to show that 1) even an experienced smoker can make mistakes, and 2) it's okay; it's just a couple of fish.  And, since the theme this year is "Charge ahead, fall down, get up, repeat," I turned lemons into lemonade, as it were, by turning my raggedy, too-salty trout into:

Delicious Smoked Trout Spread

1 smoked rainbow trout (it's okay if it's a bit too salty to eat on its own...(!))
Cream cheese
Hellmann's mayonnaise
1 scallion, chopped
Freshly ground black pepper

Remove the skin and any remaining fins and bones from the trout, and flake the fish into a bowl.  Add a couple of tablespoons of cream cheese, and mash the fish and cheese together until incorporated.  Add a generous tablespoon of mayonnaise and mix well.  Stir in the chopped scallion and pepper to taste.  Serve on crackers.

Moral of the story:  You can indeed smoke butterflied fish or fillets, but adjust the brining time accordingly.  Those butterflied trout of mine spent a good six to eight hours in the brine, but an hour on two would have done the trick.  These were small, thin-fleshed fish.  Another option for small, boneless fish or fillets would be to reduce the amount of salt in the brine, say to 1/3 or even 1/4 cup per quart of water, instead of 1/2 cup.]

 Home-Smoked Bacon

2 pounds pork belly

1/4 cup maple syrup or brown sugar

3 tablespoons salt

Rub the pork belly with the maple syrup, sprinkle salt on all sides, and let cure in the refrigerator for 24 hours, turning occasionally.  For the brown sugar cure, mix the sugar and salt and pat it evenly on all sides of the meat.

The next day, rinse off excess salt, pat dry, and smoke at 200–225 degrees for 2 to 3 hours. The bacon will be both smoked and fully cooked. If you are unsure about whether the bacon is cooked at this point, you can set your mind at ease by placing the bacon in a 200-degree oven for 30 minutes.  A meat thermometer inserted into the bacon should read 160 degrees. 

            I refrigerate my bacon wrapped in parchment paper, then placed in a small cotton sack, rather than in a plastic bag.  This allows air circulation and prevents mold and spoilage. [Note:  If  your bacon is properly cured and smoked, it will slowly continue to dry-cure when stored this way, turning into something rather like prosciutto or guanciale, the dry-cured Italian pork jowls; a few slices of this intensely flavored meat adds great depth to soups or stews, or can be thinly sliced and eaten on its own]  For freezing, use plastic zip bags.

[Note:  When I do demos like this I usually bring in pork belly in three different states of preparation:  raw, so folks can just see what the raw ingredient looks like; cured, having spent a day in a maple sugar and salt bath, because you can often see a change in the color and texture of cured meat from raw; and then I'll have a cured piece already in the smoker/grill so they can see the set-up.

When I get home with all these various meats, I'll usually freeze the raw belly, and the smoked piece becomes our in-use bacon, and then there's the cured but un-smoked piece left over.  Since by this time I've spent plenty of time having my person soaked in smoke, I usually turn that cured belly into roasted, smoke-free bacon--it's really a treat.

Pan Roasted Bacon simply involves cooking that cured belly slowly so that it has time to render a lot of fat and become tender, without burning the sugars from the maple syrup in the cure.  So, you just place the belly, fat side down, in a casserole or gratin dish, and roast it in a 300-degree oven for two to three hours, maybe more.  Turn it a couple of times while it roasts.  You should see a lot of fat rendering off, and the belly will turn a beautiful burnish golden brown.  After 2 hours it will be cooked, but you can let it go longer--depends on how tender you like it; I tend to cook it at least 3 hours.

And yesterday, since I'm mad for cooking on our new woodstove, I did a stovetop version that turned out great.  I placed the belly in a cast-iron skillet and let it sit most of the day on top of the stove, turning it from time to time.  I covered it at times, so it steamed a bit, and when the stove was too hot I set the skillet on a trivet.  At the end of the day we made Asian-style noodle soup with a broth made from the carcass of a smoked chicken (see below), with a couple of slices of that roasted belly on top, and we felt we were slurping in the best noodle shop around.]

[Note 2:  Since home-smoked bacon contains no unpleasant chemical ingredients, preservatives or colorings, the fat that accumulates when you cook it will be a lovely pure, creamy white, and full of flavor.  It's a great ingredient for cooking eggs or sauteing vegetables, or for using in place of shortening or oil in things like tortillas or biscuits.]

Smoke-Roasting

This is my own term for the process of grilling and roasting meats at somewhat higher temperatures than the hot smoked method described above.  I generally use it for pork—shoulder or country-style ribs—or chicken.  I have no specific recipes for this, because I tend to do it a little differently each time.  The basic method is this:

A few hours before you’re going to cook (or the night before), season the meat generously.  Salt is necessary, pepper is almost obligatory; I love thyme, so I’ll toss in a few sprigs of it most of the time—other herbs can also be used.  I may add a couple of crushed cloves of garlic, some sliced onion or shallot, sliced fresh or crushed dried chilies.  I’ll sometimes add spices like cumin, allspice, or fennel.  A spice blend that the French call quatre épices (“four spices,” though it often contains five or six) is excellent with pork or fowl.  Use it sparingly, as it can be overpowering.  This makes enough to last a good while:

           

2 teaspoons ground coriander

2 teaspoons ground allspice

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

           

 You can go for a dry rub, or more of a marinade, adding a bit of wine, beer, or cider, or just a little gloss of oil. 

            Prepare coals in your barbecue just as if you were going to grill, but spread the coals out over only half the grill.  Brown the meat well over direct heat, then move it to the area away from the coals.  Add some smoking wood to the coals, close the lid, and let the meat finish cooking in the smoky heat.  For either chicken pieces or country-style ribs, I’d give it at least 45 minutes, but a bit longer won’t hurt. 

            Sometimes at the end of the cooking I’ll boost the coals and crisp up the meat just prior to serving.  Smoke-roasted meats aren’t brined to the same extent as hot-smoked ones, and aren’t made for keeping.  Enjoy them hot from the grill, and use up any leftovers within a few days.

Smoked Venison “Pastrami”

2 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons maple sugar or brown sugar

7 juniper berries, crushed

1 dried red chile, crumbled

¼ teaspoon powdered ginger

½ teaspoon ground roasted Sichuan pepper

½ thyme, fresh or dried

¼ dry mustard

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 ½ - 2 pounds venison roast

Mix all the dry ingredients and rub them all over the roast.  Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 to 3 days, turning a couple of time per day.  Smoke at 225 for 2 to 2 ½ hours.  I used wild black cherry wood when I made this, but any aromatic hardwood will work—apple, oak, maple.

Smoked Pork Shoulder Roast

1 tablespoons salt

1 tablespoon white or brown sugar

½ teaspoon dried thyme

½ teaspoon paprika

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 – 2 to 2 ½ pound pork shoulder roast, with or without bone

Mix all the dry ingredients and rub the mixture evenly over the pork.  Refrigerate for at least 12 and up to 24 hours.  Smoke at 225 for 3 to 4 hours.  The internal temperature should be at least 160; finish in a low (250-275) oven if need be.

[Note:  This is excellent sliced thin and tucked into warm tortillas or Chinese steamed buns, with a fresh slaw and a bit of sauce or sour cream, depending on which ethnic direction you want to take it.  It's also wonderful served on a nice fresh roll, with perhaps a slick of mayo and some slices of dill pickle.

I prepared a small roast like this teh day before the class, to show and sample; it was the last preparation of the day, and well after dark by the time I got it going.  I smoked it for about 2 1/2 hours, then put it in the oven at 260 for an hour or so.  It turned out great.  I wouldn't call this dual-fuel method cheating, but rather, taking advantage of technologies both ancient and modern....  ]
 

Sichuan-Spiced Smoked Chicken

3 to 4 pounds chicken—you can use a whole, butterflied, or quartered chicken

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon ground roasted Sichuan pepper

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon maple syrup

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 dried red chile, crumbled

½-inch piece fresh ginger root, peeled and minced

3 garlic cloves, minced

Mix all the seasonings and rub the mixture over the chicken.  Refrigerate for 24 hours, turning the chicken occasionally in the marinade.  Prior to smoking, remove the chicken from the marinade and let it drain on paper towels.  Smoke at 250 for 3 ½ to 4 hours, until a meat thermometer inserted at the thigh reads 165. (You can put it in a 250-275 oven for the final hour--in fact, until you gain some experience with smoking poultry, I would recommend this method.  Undercooked poultry is something to be strenuously avoided.)

[Note:  This turned out a wonderfully fragrant and succulent bird.  I love Asian flavors in smoked poultry, but you could use more neutral seasonings if you like--white or brown sugar or honey could be used instead of the maple syrup.  If you omit the soy, add another 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt.  In summer I'll grab handfuls of fresh herbs for the marinade.

We've used this as a filling for steamed Chinese buns, and in quesadillas.  Yesterday, while the pork belly pan-roasted on the woodstove (see above), I also simmered a pot of smoked chicken stock which made the basis for a delicious noodle soup supper.  The concept was a chicken broth with pho-style flavors.  I stripped the meat off the bones and set it aside.  In a 3-quart saucepan I placed the bones, wing-tips, and some of the skin that had fallen off, along with:

several slices of fresh ginger root,
a couple cloves of garlic, crushed,
half an onion, sliced,
half a carrot, chopped,
2 or 3 whole cloves,
3 points of a star anise,
a teaspoon of whole Sichuan peppercorns (hua jiao),
a dried red chile, broken in half,
a few black peppercorns,
8-10 dried black mushrooms

I covered all with 2 quarts of water (about).  It simmered very gently all day.  It was reducing too much at the start so I added a little more water and covered it with the pot lid just ajar.  At the end I poured the contents of the saucepan through a colander into a big mixing bowl to remove the large solids, washed my saucepan, and poured the broth back into the pan through a sieve lined with a piece of old dish towel--this makes an excellent cheesecloth substitute, a superior one, in fact.  From the solids in the colander I retrieved the mushrooms, sliced them and returned them to the broth.

We boiled up some thin Chinese noodles, blanched some sliced red cabbage and julienne carrots; warmed some of the smoked chicken meat and slices of pork belly in a skillet; divvied it all up and garnished with sliced scallions and ground roasted Sichuan pepper.  I made a dipping sauce for the meats from soy, Chinese dark vinegar, sugar, chile oil, a minced clove of garlic, more Sichuan pepper, and I thinned it with a little water.] 

Beef Jerky

1 pound lean beef, such as top round

1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon maple syrup

1 tablespoon canola oil

1 tablespoon water

1 teaspoon sambal oelek chile paste  (or sriracha, or a few shakes of Tabasco sauce)

1 clove garlic, minced

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Slice the meat against the grain into ¼-inch slices.  In a large bowl combine all the other ingredients.  Add the beef and mix well.  Refrigerate for 6 to 8 hours, stirring occasionally.

Lay the beef slices out on a metal cooling rack with a 1/2-inch or smaller grate.  It’s okay if they overlap a bit at the beginning, since they’ll shrink as they smoke, and you can spread them out partway through.  Place the rack on the grill grate in your grill/smoker.  Smoke at 225 for 2 hours, or until the jerky is done to your taste. You can finish it in a low oven to your desired chewiness.

______________________________________

Some material in this handout is quoted from Trout Caviar: Recipes from a Northern Forager by Brett Laidlaw, copyright 2011, published by the Minnesota Historical Society Press

All material copyright 2013 by Brett Laidlaw

The Hay River Transition Initiative's Second Annual Traditional and Green Skills Day

I've harbored the desire to move to the country for well over a decade now. It's a fantasy shared by many, I know--that dream of getting back to the land, finding a simpler life in harmony with nature's rhythms, yada yada yada.... On a mild spring morning with the apple trees in bloom and abuzz with bees and hummingbirds, it seems like the most appealing of existences. How could you want to live anywhere else? How could you stand to? But then there are those other moments--a pick-up truck with a blown-out muffler comes barreling down the road, someone chucks a Bud Light can out the window, and the truck's radio is blaring some I-got-drunk-&-nasty-again song by Hank Williams Jr. (oh, why does he have to have that name?!?), but what you hear is the opening notes of "Dueling Banjos"....

Which is to say: There's the natural environment, which is easy enough to comprehend, whatever challenges it may present; and then there's the human one, which is, I dare say, considerably more murky and troubling. It was the latter that gave us qualms about moving full time to a rural area, but over the last four years of part-time country life our doubts have almost entirely been laid to rest. One event that really helped seal the deal was  the first Traditional and Green Skills Event, put on by the Hay River Transition Initiative last March.

"By harnessing the collective genius of our community members and through principals such as reskilling, open space meetings, and relocalization, we will be a more resilient, vibrant and sustainable community," reads the HRTI's website, and what that translates into, in practical terms, is a bunch of really cool, dedicated, talented people working together to keep their rural community vital and growing. I'll refrain from invidious comparisons, but I already feel more connected to my Wisconsin neighbors, as widely dispersed as they may be (we own 53 acres now, but we're still land-poor by Dunn County standards), than to the Saint Paul neighborhood where we've lived for over 15 years. Out there, neighbors really need and value each other; also, lots of the folks we know in Wisconsin are there on purpose, having relocated from the city for the same reasons we're heading east. They are living very intentional lives, and to me that makes them extremely interesting, enlivening.

Well, this is a typically long-winded way of saying that the second annual HRTI Traditional and Green Skills Event is taking place on Saturday, March 3, from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. at the Prairie Farm High School. Seminars include mushroom growing, solar ovens, chainsaw repair, cheese making, rain gardens, backyard chickens, beekeeping, wilderness skills, fruit tree grafting, and much, much more. I'm teaching a class on smoking basics in the first morning session--I'll demonstrate the cool way to open a pack of cigarettes, stylish ways of holding your cancer stick, how to choose a fine stogie, etc.... Yeah, uh, it'll be bacon and trout smoked on an ordinary home grill, smoke roasting chicken and pork--a very basic intro to demystify the smoking process. That's in the 10:00 to 11:20 slot.

The cost for the whole day is ten bucks! That includes coffee and baked goods in the 9:00 to 10:00 wake-up/meet & greet hour, AND a chili and bread lunch! Three stimulating instruction sessions, breakfast, and lunch, for TEN...MEASLY...DOLLARS! $25 for a family of up to five! Are you freakin' kidding me? Well, it's a great deal, and you will learn a lot, and meet wonderful people. You need not be a country bumpkin to attend--furthermore, you aren't even required to register in advance, though the coordinators and instructors would certainly appreciate advance sign-up, if you're able to commit. I will warn you, though--if you attend this event you just might find yourself shopping rural real estate on the way home....

The charming town of Prairie Farm is about an hour and a half's drive from the Twin Cities. I can give directions for the basic or various scenic drives if anyone's interested in coming out to the event.