Speaking of Boulangeries - Le Pain Quotidien

I avoid ‘chains.’  Not talking about the medieval versions that make your soul quiver when you play Lord and Serf.  I’m talking about restaurant chains.  Yes, I include Gimmeyerbucks and McBurgers.

Ok.  I do sin occasionally.  And, I swear I’m sorry. Sometimes a man’s gotta have a smack of caffeine anyway he can get it.  But, in the main, when it comes to the big names in fast food, as they say in French, “I defecate upon thy hands with the full force of my churning bowels.

Recently, a close friend introduced me to Le Pain Quotidien, a bakery and coffee shop in the heart of Mons, Belgium.  But, wait a sec…it’s not just in Mons, but in damn near every country that has running water.  Gotta be a mistake.  Can’t be a …dare I mention the word again…CHAIN!  Yes, it is.

Alain Coumont opened his first one in 1990 on 16 Rue Darsaert in Brussels.

What’s so special about Le Pain Quotidien?  How come this chain doesn’t deserve the same retching disgust we reserve for microwave burgers and vending machine coffee?

By the way, in English, Le Pain Quotidien means The Daily Bread.  Daily bread means what it says.  Fresh is the key word.  More than that, everything in this bakery is organic.  Preservatives, flavor enhancers, artificiality, all be damned!

LPQ has the kind of charm that makes you step inside, even if you’ve just finished breakfast.  Authentically, rustic décor.  An irresistible waft of fresh bread. The almost erotic allure of freshly ground coffee. 

You can read all about the history of Le Pain Quotidien on their web page, and also learn where to find the nearest outlet.  http://www.lepainquotidien.com/our-story-history/#.U5WIZhYajwI

But, as always, I’ll give you a thumbnail sketch.  Alain trained as a chef and earned his toque in the same hotel restaurant where his father trained.  But he came by his passion for fresh bread in the best way possible, at his aunt’s knee, baking loaves and tarts on Sunday mornings.  There’s no substitute for the glowing passions you acquire in childhood.

As a chef, he searched all over Brussels for the taste he remembered.  No luck.  Only one thing to do.  Start your own bakery.  His idea was simple:  “Having a place where I can feel at home away from home.”

To me, chains are too often a glitzy failure of artificial atmosphere: an English pub with plastic, pseudo-wood, or a grand old steakhouse, remembered with glass, steel, and recessed lighting.  Doesn’t fool you anymore than replacing a leather basketball with a balloon. Dishonesty comes to mind, followed quickly by stupidity.

Le Pain Quotidien didn’t cut the corners, or introduce a substitute for real charm. It just feels right and inviting.  Lots of old wood, including the counters.  Faded walls look as though they carry the patina of decades.  Chairs creak a bit.  But, the most important part of this bakery is the bread.  Loaves on shelves where you can see them. Fresh. Fresh. Fresh. Crusty and wholesome.

The coffee is dark and rich, without being bitter, or ragged on the edges.  Comes in a bowl, just the way Alain’s hot chocolate did when he was a boy.  Your choice of a large bowl or small.

It was early morning.  I ordered a coffee and a croissant.  Golden. Light. Flaky. Delicious.  Just as a croissant should be.  If you’re thinking crescent roll, get your mind out of the school lunchroom and into somewhere more Gallic.  At LPQ, the croissants are light as air.  Try a smear of orange marmalade, or one of LPQ’s delectable sweet nut spreads. They’re on every table.

You won’t be sorry.  And you’ll find time to linger.  This isn’t just breakfast, this is the start of a beautiful day.

I know I’ve got time.  Who hasn’t got time for another glimpse of childhood on a sunny morning. “Mademoiselle, un autre café, s'il vous plaît.”

Challah - A quick way to dress up your meal!

I’m sure you’ve heard of Challah (Cha-la), the traditional Jewish bread served on the Sabbath and holidays.  Braided bread.  Lots of those around in different countries and cultures.  This one is easy to make and goes great with stews and other cold weather meals.

Aside from simplicity, why would you want to make Challah?  Lots of choices.  You’re going to the synagogue’s Wednesday night potluck.  You thought Monica Lewinski was really, really  cute.  Braids bring up fond memories of your fifth grade girlfriend.  Or, Challah has the tender sweetness of your ninth grade girlfriend, who was also easy to make.

Thanks, Bob, but I think I’ll go with number five:  Challah’s such a crowd pleaser, the women will want to kiss the cook. I say, let ‘em!

One thing different about Challah from most braided breads, is that it’s parve.  Rabbis may call me on this, but to me, Kosher is divided into three areas:  meat, dairy, and neither. For now let’s keep it simple.  Parve is the ‘neither.’  So in the case of Challah, the bread is made without butter, milk, or any meat products.  How about eggs???  Also parve.

Another thing, Challah is a European Jewish tradition.  Middle Eastern and Spanish-background Jews use unleavened bread on the Sabbath, something more like pita. 

Lots of variations.  12 braids, 6 braids, 3 braids.  Sometimes raisins or nuts, sometimes whole wheat flour.

Enough chitchat.  I go simple.  No raisins or nuts.  3 braids.  My recipe, stolen unabashedly and without shame from a former associate, is also very simple.  Throw the ingredients in a food processor.  Put the dough in a greased plastic bag and let it rise.

Wait a sec.  You probably want to know the ingredients.  Ever helpful am I!

3 1/2 Cups flour (I use organic, unbleached.)

1 package yeast (If you can get fresh yeast, it’s even better.  Use half a cube)

1 egg

1/4 cup vegetable oil (I use sunflower oil)

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 Cup sugar

1 Cup warm water (95ºF or 35ºC)

Turmeric, as desired to make the bread yellow (Not too much! Turmeric is bitter!)

Dissolve the yeast in warm water (in the food processor).  Add sugar, salt, and two cups of flour. Mix well, using the dough blade.  Add egg and oil and mix again. If you want the bread to have a yellow glow, add a few pinches of Turmeric at this point.  Add the remaining flour and knead for ten minutes.  The dough pulls away from the sides of the food processing bowl, and has an elastic feel.

Place the dough in a greased plastic bag and allow it to rise.  In cooler weather, I put the bag in my oven and leave the oven light on.

When the dough is doubled, about an hour or two, take it out of the bag and form three balls.  Pull and roll each ball into a long strand (about 15-18 inches long). 

Pinch the strands together at one end, braid them and then pinch the final end. 

Put the loaf in a long bread pan and let it rise again.  If you want the bread to have a shiny look, brush the braided loaf thinly with a beaten egg.  Sprinkle on sesame seeds for an extra touch.

Same loaf after the second rising.  Note the difference in size from the photo above.

Bake at 375ºF or 190ºC for 25 minutes, or until the top is a medium golden brown.

Talk about delicious cultural diversity!  Mazel Tov!

Wheat and Whatnot

Germany is the eighth largest producer of wheat.  Top three?  China, by a big margin, then India, then the land of “amber waves of grain.”  Germany grows enough to feed a population that eats 192 pounds of bread per person, per annum.  That doesn’t even count the pasta, cakes, pastries, and beer.  Yes, they brew vast quantities of Weißbier, or wheat beer.  It’s a so-called sour beer, although it tastes plenty sweet to me.  Another thing about wheat beer is that by German law it’s a top-fermented beer.  For my money, that means less fizz and more flavor.  Lots of varieties of wheat beer, which also uses barley in the brewing mix.  I had a lovely dark wheat beer last night at the local bier stube.

But, back to wheat.  There are great fields of it in this part of Germany and one is right outside my door.  German wheat is of the hard winter wheat variety.  What’s that mean?  Winter wheat is planted in late September through October and not harvested until late July, or August. Winter wheat needs vernalization (cold temperatures), where spring wheat does not.  It sprouts, then goes dormant, then resumes it’s growth in the spring.  Remember, I said 'hard' winter wheat.  The term ‘hard’ comes from the firmness of the kernel.

Any differences between winter and summer wheat?  Plenty, but the thing to remember is that winter wheat has more protein (at least 12%) and more gluten.  High gluten is best for bread baking. 

I’ve often wondered, as I sit on my porch, overlooking my garden and the field of wheat beyond, What does it all mean?  All-purpose flour.  Cake flour.  Organic flour.  Whole wheat flour.  Cauliflower.   Nope, scratch that last one, it’s in the cabbage family.

All-purpose flour is usually a mix of spring and winter wheat flours (hard and soft), meaning less gluten and less protein.  Cake flour is a low protein (6-8%) flour made from soft winter wheat.  Organic is supposed to mean free of chemicals.  Whether that is true or not depends on the manufacturer.  I have some Organic Gold Medal All-purpose flour.  On the side panel it says it’s made with certified organic wheat, but is also 'enriched' with a lot of vitamins and minerals.  Is that bad or good?  I haven’t the fainted idea.  Are they natural vitamins or are they derivatives from petroleum byproducts and toxic waste.  Don’t know.  All vitamins are not manufactured or collected in the same way.

White flour uses only the grain, with the bran, germ, and endosperm eliminated; bleaching seems to get rid more of the natural goodness.   Whole wheat has all of it, containing many natural vitamins.  The downside is, whole wheat doesn’t do a good job of rising without a lot of leavening agents.

Bleached or unbleached?  Why bleach at all?  Makes the flour white. That's it.   In the good old days, bleaching meant the flour was out in the sun for awhile. With the advent of the industrial age and mass production and distribution, bleaching came to be done with chemicals, usually chorine.  Recently, unbleached flours have gained favor.  I use them.

Lots of information.  What are some bottom lines?  I try my best to buy organic, unbleached, and unadulterated flour.  If you live near a co-op, or a well-stocked health food store, ask them about their flours.  Otherwise, I’ll mention two brands, with their web sites: http://www.kingarthurflour.com  and http://www.hodgsonmill.com .

For American breads, I offer two bits of advice:  the first is, Read the label!, and the second, bake your own bread!  After reading the labels, you may die of fright, or you may reevaluate whether you’re truly allergic to the gluten in flour, or to the chemistry set that’s tucked inside your store bought bread, favorite cake mix, or box of industrial strength cookies.

Meanwhile, I’m going to sit on my patio, overlooking a field of grain, and enjoy another Weißbier, made with hard winter wheat and brewed to the highest German standards of purity.

Reasons for Raisin Bread

Ready for butter

Really not quite this yellow, but you get the idea

Stiff dough not yet greased

After the second rising.  Oven ready!

It’s a rainy Sunday morning and my wife is at church.  I’m left to my own vices…I mean devices.  Too early for even a small glass of beer.  Too early to chase some sweet young thing, and besides, I’m married and my knees aren’t what they used to be.

Watching TV on Sunday morning is for sissies. Already read a novel for a couple of hours, sipped my coffee and did a Sudoku.  My sons will soon arrive home after a weekend of debauchery at a squalid rock concert.   That’s not envy you hear in my voice.  I swear it’s not.

Perhaps a winding, forest drive to a log rolling fest?  There’s one nearby that proposes to show how they did it in the old days.  Did logs float differently back when men were men and winked at each other when someone suggested ‘log rolling?’  Probably not, but Germans will grab any sliver of opportunity to drink bier and eat wurst.  My kinda guys.

I think I’ll make some raisin bread.  Why make it when you can buy it?  The nearby German bäckerei usually does a superb job on breads, but their raisin bread is a little thin on raisins.  I don’t know why. Maybe a stiff tax on dried fruit. In any case, there’s a reason raisin is in the singular. Or, I could go to a grocery and buy tasteless ‘air bread,’ with the odd raisin included as an afterthought.

No.  None of that.  I want bread that slices in thick slabs and holds more butter than a dairy churn.  I want raisin bread that looks like an anthill when you cut it open.  I want the fresh bread aroma that permeates every pore and makes a man forget about sex for three or even four minutes.  Well, possibly four.

Also, when my sons eventually run out of money and beer and come home I want them to see not only my beautiful loaf of raisin bread, but what life is like after they’re married, de-clawed, and domesticated.

Raisin Bread

1 package active dry yeast

1/4 cup warm water (110-115ºF or 43-46ºC)

1 1/2 cups raisins (I use golden raisins, but whichever you use, make sure they’re not dry and hard)

1/3 cup soft butter

1/4 cup sugar (more if you want a sweet version, in which case consider also adding cinnamon)

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt (don't skimp or the bread will be bland)

1/2 cup scalded milk

3 3/4 cups all-purpose flour (approximately)

2 eggs, smashed and badly beaten

Preparation:

Dissolve the yeast in warm water, with a pinch or two of sugar added. In a few moments the yeast will ‘proof,’ or bubble up.  (see photo)

In a large bowl, combine raisins, butter, sugar, salt, and hot milk; stir to dissolve the sugar. Let mixture cool to lukewarm. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of the flour; beat well. I use a hand beater.

Add the yeast mixture and the beaten eggs; blend well.

At this point, use your hands to mix and knead. Add a cup of the remaining flour to make a soft, but stiff dough.   Add additional flour as needed to make your dough stiff, probably half a cup.  At this point you should have about a quarter of a cup of flour left.

Knead the dough in the large bowl for about 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Dust with the remainder of the flour as needed to keep the dough elastic and not sticky.

Leave the dough in the bowl.  Drizzle some vegetable oil over it, turning to grease the whole surface. The dough should look wet, but not be overly greasy.

Put the greased dough in a gallon-sized plastic bag.  Close it, but leave an inch long opening for gas to escape. Let stand in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.  I put mine in a cold oven, leaving the oven light on.

When the dough has risen, punch it down and shape into a loaf; place in a greased 8x4x3-inch loaf pan. Put it back in the cold oven and let it rise again for about 45 to 60 minutes, until almost double.

Bake at 375° for 25 minutes, placing foil over loaf the last 10 minutes, if the loaf is getting too brown on top.  Every oven is different.  If yours, like mine, is hotter on the top rack, bake this bread on the bottom rack to keep it from drying out, or decrease the cooking time by five minutes.

Remove loaf from the pan and let it cool on a rack.

Slice to your preference and slather on the butter.

If your sons are getting home soon, eat your fill before they get back.

Down to the Bäckerei For a Morning Cup

Sandwiches 

300 Varieties of Bread

Looking from the inside out

One of the chain bakeries, Reichhart, has a small shop within walking distance.  Some mornings I get there for coffee and sometimes I linger to write, or finish reading a book.  Tough life. 

You can learn a lot idling over your caffeine fix.  For instance, Germans always greet each other on entering and leaving.  Used to be you’d hear “Guten tag” and “Weidersehen. “  Now you hear “Hallo” and “Tschüss.”  The later is pronounced ‘chew-ss’ and is more or less the German version of ‘ciao.’

Germany is one of those fabulous countries that sports two or three corner bakeries in every town.  Granted, most are owned and operated by big corporations. Private Bäckerei seem to be disappearing rapidly.  One statistical source shows a 40% decline since 1990.  Sound familiar?  We’re seen the same thing with cookie-cutter malls in the U.S.  All the big boys driving out the Main Street moms and pops.

In Germany it’s a bit different.  Even many of the chains are small bisto-style bakeries located on street corners in every village.   They bake their own bread and make their own pastries. Hours are usually 7 to 7, with perhaps a half-day on Sunday.  None of this 24/7 stuff that really puts Mom and Pop at a disadvantage.

A line forms as you step into a German bake shop.  When it’s your turn, the counter salesperson gives her undivided attention.  For that moment, she is there only to serve you.  Lots of eye contact.  Makes you feel special.  Thinking of sending my wife to bakery school.

There are so many varieties of bread, from Graubrot (crusty rye-wheat) to Vollkornbrötchen (whole-grain).  There were 300 types at last count and another 1,200 types of rolls and pastries, so it’s hard to choose. But one thing for sure, Germans go for extreme freshness and heavy, wholesome bread.  Goodness knows, they eat enough of it.  192 pounds per person each year.  Compare that to 121 pounds per person for the French, no slouches themselves in the bread department.  Taking bread and baking seriously extends to the employees.  By the time a salesperson gets behind the counter, she is well trained, sometimes working months or years to get to full time.

What about the bread itself?  Food laws specify what can and cannot be used in practically all food preparation.   These days most bakeries have gone a step further and sell Bio bread, which is organic to the max, including the seeds and nuts sprinkled on top.  Even the non-Bio bread has no preservatives or flavor additives.  Also, it’s uncut until you buy it.  “Schneiden?” the lady will ask, holding up your fresh purchase.  Do you want it sliced?

The only downside to ‘freshness first’ is that you have only a day or two to consume your purchase before it starts to become a laboratory experiment.  Ah, the price lazy appetites pay to eat healthy.

Lunch available, or maybe a more sustaining breakfast than sugary treats?  You bet.  Lots of brötchen (rolls) laden with slices of cheese, tomato, pickles, and eggs.

What about the coffee?  I love German coffee, most of which comes from automatic espresso machines.  Of course, not everyone agrees, but those are the poor souls who won’t drink any coffee that doesn’t rhyme with up-chucks. The German word for coffee is pretty much the same as ours, Kaffee.  Want café au lait, better ask for Milch Kaffee.  If you just want the counter help to add a bit of milk, order Kaffee mit Milch.  No big deal.  In most places you can simply order Kaffee and add the milk and sugar yourself.  Need it ‘To Go?”  Just say, zum Mitnehmen.  Often you can get a coffee and pastry at a special price, Angebot.

Getting to be a regular at a Bäckerei has its own rewards.  Now I get my coffee after I walk in the door, and if only for a moment, I have a smiling, special friend, who makes a lot of eye contact.