Ars Pistorica, the Art of Breadmaking.

Gluten-Free Breads & Sourdough.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Sat, 25 May 2013 01:05:00 +0000

I think I see part of the clarification in your post: you recommend using one grain for the starter, and have that grain be dominant in the flour blend for the bread. I'll see if this is a viable option and if it gives me better results. I definitely intend to do some further research on which flours cultivate which microflora and see if I can tweak the flavor profile of my sourdoughs accordingly.

Don’t worry about the research part; I’ve done it. About to do a post based on it. I have all the necessary ingredients myself to test some of the guesses I’ll make, but I have little time, as other experiments wait.

Sans Glutton

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 24 May 2013 08:24:00 +0000

I create my own flour blends, and have a few different blends for different purposes. It is widely accepted that you can achieve the best texture and flavor in gluten-free baking with a blend of flours, some starches and some whole grains. For my flour blend I purposely selected grains that ferment well. There is one gluten-free baker that I know of who likes to use just one or two grains. He lives in your neck of the woods in Tasmania.

I haven't ever made injera but I do want to try it at some point.

Again, thanks for the ideas!

I caution against using flour blends with sourdough starters for reasons of flavour, not rheology, which seems to be your (and most gluten-free bakers’) principal concern.

I personally see nothing wrong with these sorts of blends, especially when less dynamic leavening agents are in play. I have seen, used and even experimented with a variety of blends, some with better results than others. However, almost all of them wreak havoc on a sourdough culture due to substrate confusion.

The kind of starter necessary for gluten-free baking is similar to one I sketched out earlier; it’ll likely have a higher hydration, too, since obligately heterofermentative bacteria are not present. The starter should be designed around the grain it’s using, and preferably a grain with some sort of social or cultural history of supporting sourdough ‘breads.’ This will produce the best flavour results, especially if the grain (or one similar) being used for maintaining the culture appears as the ‘main’ grain in the blend (let’s say at least 50%).

I’ve wanted to do a series on gluten-free baking, but, lo and behold, there’s never any time. If you have not already researched the background, I’d recommend looking up any grains that are gluten-free and associating each with their various backslopping process as well as the LAB and yeasts they commonly recover. Once that list is made, it’s quite easy to begin to ‘choose’ flavour profiles, as the rest of that research has also been done (and also cross-references into my own research into flavour in wheat breads, as all grains have the same rough sugar, protein and amino acid types but in different combination to each other).

Sans Gluten.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 24 May 2013 02:44:00 +0000

I tried this method of creating a sourdough starter with gluten-free flours, and it worked splendidly. I actually made two starters, one with 100% dark teff, and the other with a blend of glutn-free whole grains and starches that I use for making bread. While both starters worked, the teff starter was better flavor-wise. Both grew yeast easily on the third day. I was able to get some of the most flavorful loaves of gluten-free sourdough bread I've ever made using this starter, and they rose well too. They had a very rounded-out lactic-acid flavor.

I am doing some more research and experiments concerning the best way to make sourdough loaves gluten-free. I may try some modifications to the method to see if there are any parts of the process that can be changed to suit gluten-free grains. This method of creating a starter was part of my research and it has been very informative to read your blog. Thank you for the ideas!

Starters used for gluten-free ‘bread’ products have different metabolic needs than those based in rye or wheat. For one thing, the primary sugar sources change composition when working with gluten-free grains, with maltose having a diminished role. The likelihood of highly-evolved, obligately heterofermentative LAB dominating the such a starter culture are much lower due to this substrate difference.

Simpler sugars, then, give rise to a microfloral culture that has more pronounced yeast activity, as well the presence of either obligately homofermentative LABs (like those in the Plantarum and Para-plantarumgroup) or those that are facultatively heterofermentative (like Brevis & company) as the main lactobacilli presence. A mixture of gluten-free grains will result in a very unpredictable culture, which is not a bad thing if you’re looking for adventure and inconsistency.

Teff’s a reliable grain for sourdough fermentations. It’s likely one of the first grasses ever used for continuous sourdough fermentations. More information on Teff and sourdough can be found here, here, and here.

Below are two methods used for preparing injera, excerpted from two different studies, here and here.

2.5 Preparation of injera

Injera baking consists of two stages of natural fermentation, which last for about 24 to 72 hours, depending on ambient temperatures. The only required ingredients are the tef flour and water. Tef flour was mixed with twice its weight of water. Inoculation was accomplished by consistently using partially cleaned fermentation container and by adding some ersho (a clear, yellow liquid that accumulates on the surface of the batter towards the final stage of fermentation). About 10% of the fermenting dough was mixed with three parts of water and boiled for 2 to 5 minutes. This is called ‘absit’. Absit ensures that injera had the proper texture and consistency. The tef dough was baked in an electric heated oven to obtain Injera. Injera was dried under electric heated oven at 40 0C over night, ground to a fine powder (to pass through a 40 mesh sieve) and stored in polyethylene bags for further extractions.

2.6 Preparation of Partially Fermented injera

Partially fermented injera was baked at 18 hours of fermentation and has sweet taste and characterized by vigorous evolution of gas and maximum dough-rising. It is recommended for people suffering from gastritis and, thus, do not tolerate acidic foods.

2.7 Preparation of Fully Fermented injera

The fermentation process of fully fermented injera lasts for three days. The appearance of an acidic yellowish liquid on the surface of the dough at about 30 hours of fermentation was discarded. As soon as the liquid layer was poured off absit was mixed with the rest in fermentation vat after being cooled to 600C. This process signals the initiation of the second stage of fermentation. By mixing the boiled dough with the rest in the vat, the dough-rising and gas formation process was enhanced. The fermenting dough was thin enough to pour on to the hot flat pan, locally known as ‘mitad’ for stam-baked in to fully fermented injera. The preparation of injera is shown.

Tef flour + water + ersho

Incubate at room temperature

(Primary fermentation)

Ferment for 17-25 hours

Sweet injera

At about 30hrs, discard yellow liquids

On the top of the fermenting dough

Remove a small volume of dough for ‘absit’ making

Mix with water

Boil

After cooling absit to 60°C

Add to dough in fermentation vat

Incubate for 0.5 to 2 hours

(Secondary fermentation)

Steam bake on hot clay pan

(2-3 minutes)

The teff injera samples were prepared at home in the same way as done traditionally in every household. Accordingly, teff flour was mixed with clean water in the ratio 1:2 (w/w) and 16 % of starter (ersho) by the weight of the flour and was kneaded by hand in a bowl in the traditional way. The resultant dough was allowed to ferment for 3 days at ambient temperature. After this primary fermentation, the surface water formed on the top of the dough was discarded. For every 1kg of original flour, 200ml of the fermented mixture was mixed and with 400 ml of water and brought to boil (traditionally known as ‘absit’ making). It was cooled to about 450C before it was added into the main part of the dough. The main dough was thinned by adding water equal to the original weight of the flour and stirred for 15minutes. The batter was left covered for 2 hoursforsecondary fermentation. After 2 hours, the absit was added to the thinned dough and mixed very well (known as batter making). The batter was left for about 30 min to rise (the second fermentation), before baking commenced. Some more water was added to thin down and form the right batter consistency. Finally, about half a litre of batter was poured onto the hot clay griddle in a circular motion from the outside, working towards the centre. After 2-3 minutes of cooking using traditional baking equipment (metad), the injera was removed and stored in a traditional basket container messob. The injera was then transported from home to the laboratory for further study.

I have seen your recent breads on The Fresh Loaf. My personal recommendation would be to shy away from specialty ‘flour’ blends, and move toward more pure expressions using one or two grains per loaf that have both a documented history of sourdough breads made from them as well as those that are gluten-free. (There is, however, a wealth of information on the natural fermentation of various gluten-free flour blends. Just google away!)

Enzymatic Prefermentation of Yeasted Preferments.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Thu, 23 May 2013 05:33:00 +0000

I am researching and writing a longer piece on the use of commercial yeast, and I stumbled across something I thought I’d share.

The following is a passage from Kati Katina’s wonderful ‘Sourdough: a tool for the improved flavour, texture and shelf-life of wheat bread,’ available here.

‘Schieberle (1996) reported that during 16 hours of fermentation in the yeasted preferment, the amount of 3-methylbutanol and 2-phenylethanol increased during first 8 hours and then ceased during last 8 hours. The lack of amino acid precursors was proposed to explain the phenomenon.’

I do not know why this did not occur to me earlier, but the implication of above is that you could and maybe should be enzymatically prefermenting your yeasted preferments! Simply autolyse for 12 to 16 hours as before, then mix in yeast. Proceeding at cooler temperatures (I’d imagine at 25°C or less) will result in the optimal flavour profile.

Check Ya Culture.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Thu, 23 May 2013 00:55:00 +0000

Want to know the best process used today for identifying the “who’s who” of your sourdough culture?

‘On the other hand, data from conventional culture-dependent method incombination with molecular identification procedures complemented PCRDGGE identification results and provided evidence of the viability of the microbial group detected.’

Read more here. This paper does a good job showing (not telling) just exactly how the process works.

Research: All the Cool Kids Do It.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Wed, 22 May 2013 23:58:00 +0000

P.S. Thanks for the ideas re: creating optimal conditions for L. sanfran (auxotrophies & temp demands). You've got me keeping my levain out of the fridge now and ePrefermenting more, even the flours that go into levain builds . Excellent -- but I won't say breakthrough -- flavors so far from doughs with 40% fresh-milled (and ePrefermented) flour.

For best results try no fresh flour, or keep all freshly-milled flour to leavens. I would not enzymatically-preferment my starters, unless trying to change the metabolic profile of the culture for a specific result.

Given your location, I’m surprised you’re using that much fresh flour as well as enzymatically prefermenting your doughs; for me, this would make for flavour overkill.

What benefits do you hope to gain by doing this with your leavens? (I ask this sincerely.)

Got a reference for that "never refrigerate" recommendation?

How about references? Go to Google Scholar, type in use the search terms ‘cold’ or ‘cold stress’ and ‘sanfranciscensis,’ and you’ll have a good start.

All my references are publicly-available, with a good share on Google Scholar. It just takes due diligence.

I’m not skirting the issue; I’m inviting reasonable, independent sources to confirm or challenge my interpretations.

I want this project to grow, for more people to drink science’s Kool-Aid. For instance, I have not even begun any research specific to rye as it pertains to sourdough fermentation. My own research has been into wheat and type-I fermentations, and, increasingly, looking to metagenomics as a way of shedding light on the relationship between man and bacteria (and fungus).

Anew, Apiece.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Mon, 20 May 2013 04:09:00 +0000

This week inaugurates three projects, each with their own timeline, history, and identity.

The first and most personally meaningful is Apiece (soon to be at apiece.com.au), a neighbourhood bakery located in Launceston, Tasmania, that’s been 15 years in the making, after several false starts and locales dotting the globe.

Apiece derives its name from multiple sources.

When we speak of bread, it is per piece, a common way of labelling individual loaves for sale. For example, a baguette at a bakeshop may be priced ‘$2.50 apc.’ This shorthand will also factors into the bakery’s graphic identity, an abbreviated denotation that telegraphs what the bakery’s all about.

I’ve always loved the idea promoted by Alain Passard (of Arpège) and Alain Senderens (formerly of Archestrate) before him: name your joint with a letter first in line in the alphabet; this way, it appears at the top of any alphabetised list of similar businesses. Pascal Barbot, a quasi-Passard disciple, took this to heart in naming his 3-Michelin-starred Astrance.

My personal influences are vast, and none stands taller than Chris Bianco. The sourcing of outstanding local ingredients has always been, and remains, my prime objective. My mantra’s always been ‘use what’s around you.’ The fact Bianco happens to make great pizza and bread, along with his brother, Marco, stands as a corollary to the central mission of his business. This is not to say his bread or pizza ever went unnoticed by me.

It was not until I moved to New York City, and, after arriving in the city with less than $400 to my name, that I ever thought about serving pizza at ambient temperature. My first year there saw me parked on many a stoop up and down Sullivan Street, enjoying Jim Lahey’s wares before he shifted production to his present-day location in Hell’s Kitchen (and now, too, Chelsea). There are fewer bargains better than a slice of minutes-old pizza bianca for breakfast.

Lahey’s pizze are a take on what he experienced at Forno Campo de’ Fiori during his time in Rome. I am indebted to Lahey specifically, as well as Roman-style pizza generally. (Even more so nowadays to Gabriele Bonci. If you are a baker of any level and do not own his recently published book, then order it now. I left my copy in Brisbane for the boys at Chester St to read.)

But what is pizza, really? I always said, ‘It’s like bread for dinner.’ Pizza by the slice (a’ taglio), as served in Rome, has shifted my perception, both more broadly and for the better. As I’ve grown older, I now realise that all bakers, past and present, are making the same bread. The various guises it takes are merely gestures, temporal interpretations that emerge from the same three (or four, if using commercial yeast) ingredients.

Pizza, for me, allows me to transfer my breads into a canvas (or plate, if you will) upon which I can nestle all the fantastic ingredients grown or reared by the dozens of purveyors I have built relationships with over the years here in Tasmania.

And so the bakery’s name, Apiece, reflects another facet: pizza. The first pizzeria in the United States opened a shortly after the world’s first true pizzeria, in Naples, opened its doors. By the turn of the 20^thcentury, over 100,000 Neapolitans had immigrated to New York City and its surrounding areas. There are many Neapolitan-Americans who, to this day, carry on the tradition of their forebears’ odd dialect, as evidenced in the uniquely American term ‘apizz.’ (For me, Domenico DeMarco, Pino ‘Joe’ Pozzuoli and Brian Spangler are this form’s top practioners, even if Joe’s Pizza is rarely lumped into this category by pizza cognoscenti.)

I also chose the name Apiece because I’ve always known I did not want a sheaf of wheat or a miniature baker with peel near an oven as part of my graphic identity. That dead horse has been trod on enough for almost 200 years; it doesn’t need another beating from me. I also wanted to emphasise the idea that bread brings people together, as when you share a piece of something with another person. I will not belabour this metaphor, either, as enough bakers and bread writers have discussed the subject ad nauseam.

My second project will be a Tasmanian wheat pool (the Australian term for ‘pooled’ buyers of wheat lots) and custom-milling project, which has already begun with the local mill here. Although Tasmanian farmers only produce approximately 19,000 tonnes of wheat per year, most is grown with the overuse of pesticides and ‘corrective’ chemicals. I aim for natural (‘organic’ or ‘biodynamic’ labels mean little to me) wheat.

The flour line we are developing will be called ‘A piece of wheat’ (eventually apieceofwheat.com), with the flours blended against several parameters. Most important is ash content, but there are several other considerations that are just as vital as well. My goal is to produce a premium roller-milled flour for sourdough breads and bakers (Apiece will be, in its entirety, a 100% sourdough bakery, which will include all breads, pizze and Vienoisserie).

Rather than use the European ‘numerical’ system for grading ash, I am going to use colour. I find most consumers and even bakers are confused by the various grades found throughout Europe. Why does Germany have a different numbering scheme than France, both of which diverge from Denmark or Italy? It’s odd to me, since all these countries have roughly the same blends. Seems the Euro zone does not extend to agriculture (and with good reason).

Since all the wheat I am using is white wheat (the differentiation between winter and spring wheats disappears in warmer growing regions, such as Australia), the colour schema will be straightforward: Off White, Creamy Yellow, Tannin, Nut Brown.

My favourite and everyday flour is my Tannin, equivalent to a T-75, a nonexistent category in Europe. This blend has minimal bran ‘contamination,’ as millers refer to lingering flecks of pericarp and seed coat, but will retain the entirety of the aleurone layer. The true crumb colour is a dark yellowish tan that’s just shy of beige. My goal with this blend was to create a flour that’s as ‘dark’ or ‘impure’ as I can make a dough without everyday consumers noticing. The flavour and nutrition gain is tremendous but those who eat the bread do not realise the bread’s not technically white.

The last project, of course, is a continuation and eventual expansion of this blog’s namesake: Arspistorica.org. All those seeking bread are welcome. I’d like to invite anybody out there who’s interested in participating to step forward; I could do this alone, but collaboration produces greater results.

I am additionally looking for an online guru, somebody with extensive web-design skills and an interest in bread. This position and its work will be paid.

Thank you all for reading thus far.

I look forward to the future.

All Bread's Prefermented.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Sat, 18 May 2013 05:54:00 +0000

All bread is prefermented.

Even direct-method doughs.

All leavening agents must be grown before they themselves can grow, again.

Ground Up.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 17 May 2013 23:27:00 +0000

When Milling, are there hard and fast target temperatures not to be exceeded or is it a straight line where 25C is fine, 35C is worse and 45C too far gone, etc..?

Personally, I do not know the answer, but my guess is that the way this question is framed by milling 'experts' is completely wrong altogether.

The question should be, how soon do you want to use the flour and for what purpose?

Necessary 'Evils.'

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 17 May 2013 23:21:00 +0000

I am a home baker that tries to create the best quality bread that I can. I try to educate those who wish to be educated about the quality differences of supermarket bread and real bread, for the lack of a better term. I’m not a miller or baker by profession, so how in the world can someone mill and bake on a daily basis and test for, to quantify, milling related starch damage or falling numbers? I understand the falling numbers relating to the bag of grain, the bulk purchase, I don’t see these at whole foods market but would bet that someone like Keith Guisto has these if asked. The milling damage seems more problematic, but is it hugely important give that the flour is so fresh? Is my poor little Hawo Octagon mill and the flour it produces a convenient self imposed illusion of quality? Are there processes / tests I can, as a home bread baker, realistically apply to the flour I use.

Firstly, I do not think any baker should have to worry about moisture damage and/or milling-related starch damage. This is the miller’s job, as well as the wheat grower’s. By the time a bag of flour or whole grain is purchased, I’d hope some preliminary information is available on the product in question, especially as it relates to falling number and protein content, which are, to the minimum, two values any good miller or grain grower should know about his or her product. I do not find asking for this information an unreasonable request; any respectable miller or grower should be happy to want to provide this information (if he or she has no means of testing, he or she should at least be willing to try to have it tested, or to facilitate in the testing).

Although I say this, it’s important keep in mind that farms and mills are still businesses, especially smaller, family-run operations, where profit margins are slim. Many millers and growers therefore work with averages, based upon assumptions normally verified through years of testing and experience, winnowing their process to eliminate variables that may detract from the final consistency of the end product. Often the information provided by mills regarding their product is not based upon a flurry of recent testing, but, rather, from the accrued averages of manytests done over time.

The second part of your question, about mill-associated starch damage, is excellent. I’m not sure ‘starch damage’ is an appropriate term in this case, as it’s an inevitable, irreversible, and ultimately necessarypart of transforming raw wheat berries into flour. It’s also desirable, as it facilitates in the increased release and surface-area exposure of gliadin molecules, which ultimately increases a dough’s strength during fermentation. There’s plenty more to say on this subject, but I am hesitant until I investigate it further. (At the moment, there’s not a lot of helpful scholarship. I’m working with a milling scientist to unearth a hypothesis I have, which may or may not be true.)

Remember: freshly-milled flour’s alwaysbetter than the alternative, especially as it relates to flavour and nutrition. Rheology’s another concern altogether. Do know that without this ‘starch damage’ you’d only be making dense, brick-like loaves.

I hope to do more posts on this subject in the future. Without further information, though, I am reticent to make guesses.

In short, I’d say: don’t worry about this ‘starch damage’ and keep on keepin’ on, as what you’re already doing probably works and works wonderfully.

Counterintuition.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 17 May 2013 23:00:00 +0000

"Although it may seem counterintuitive at first glance, there's a greater need for enzymatic prefermentation as starch damage INCREASES ..."

This is interesting. How so?

Increased mill-related starch damage = less flavour due to greater oxidation and heat exchange that results in the considerable loss of those organic compounds directly responsible for the production of aromatic volatiles in bread.

To Refrigerate or Not to Refrigerate?

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 17 May 2013 22:52:00 +0000

I am also interested in understanding why Lb Sf based cultures shoud "never" be refrigerated. Considering that many home bakers keep their starters that way, what do we loose after refrigerating our culture for a week? Thanks a lot for all the great info on your blog.

It’s not advisable to put an Lb SF-based culture in the refrigerator for the same reason you don’t put your dog in the fridge: it’s not a dog’s (or Lb SF’s) optimal environment. What happens when you put a dog in the refrigerator for 7 days? It dies. Same with Lb SF.

What do you lose? Lactobacillus sanfranciscensis.

Will you still have a microfloral culture capable of making bread? Of course.

Will your culture contain Lb SF? The probability is very close to zero, even after oneday in the refrigerator, and reaches zero after 3 to 3.5 days every time. (There’s more that can be said on this issue, but I’m hesitant to do so until I find the time to explain the how’s and why’s in a more detailed manner.)

Really, it’s your choice.

Whenever I say this to amateur or home bakers, the reaction’s always the same: How can ‘I’ suggest this? It’s too much work to feed a culture on a daily basis. Etc.

The choice, though, really is yours. If you’d rather maintain a different kind of culture, please, by all means, do.

Lb SFis a ubiquitous organism, found in any habitat where humans also exist. It’s a highly domesticated species with a remarkably stable genomic profile through both time and place. We (unwittingly) bred it to be the dominant organism for breads made from both crushed wheat and rye grains.

In saying all of this, the term ‘wild’ carries less meaning when we refer to Lb SF and other highly-evolved organisms commonly found in human food-based fermentations. Lb SF is no more ‘wild’ than a Shih Tzu. (Think of it this way: Lb SF relies on us to create its niche; if we stop making sourdough breads, the organism as we know it would cease to exist.)

And How Might We Damage the Starch?

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Thu, 16 May 2013 22:55:00 +0000

The presence of too much starch damage resulting from incorrect milling processes is what I meant. Not meaning to be a Sophist, although I have been called that before in a different context.

Thank you for clarifying.

This is another subject I’m afraid that is not very well understood (as it has not been studied empirically in a way that yields meaningful results for bakers), especially as it relates to rheology, for both yeasted breads and particularly sourdough.

There are no mills in the world, regardless of milling type, with which I am aware that produce wheat flours with a starch-damage content in excess of 10 - 11%, a range that represents the upper-bounds for ‘acceptable’ starch damage. In fact, most, if not all, stone-mills produce a much higher degree of starch damage than roller-mills, which seems sort of a necessity when working with extremely fresh grains.

Here’s my question: What’s the difference, on a physical level, between particle size, a flour’s age, and the amount of ‘heat’ a flour experiences? I’m not sure there’s any, which means these variables can be interchanged to achieve the same result (up to a certain extent, obviously).

Damaged Starch

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Thu, 16 May 2013 22:23:00 +0000

Two other concerns -

Starch damage and a low falling number will create untold dough difficulties with extended autolyze, regardless of the flour's milled aged.

I am not sure I understand how these are two concerns, rather than one, as both relate to early sprouting of the wheat kernel in the field during moist conditions. Sprout-damaged wheat will consequently have a falling number well short of 300 s, and be rejected by most millers.

I am also not convinced a low falling number cannot later be corrected for. I say this from personal experience, rather than for pure sophistry. Lately, this is a topic that has been on my mind. I have not written about it because I do not know the answer. It seems milling science does not know, either.

There seems to be a relationship, where a flour’s particle size, age, and/or exposure to heat improves a dough’s rheology, regardless of prior grain conditions. (This hypothesis ignores protein content. Additionally, there are likely to be upper- and lower-bounds under which this assertion remains true.)

Why do I say this?

There’s a smaller mill, located somewhere in Australia, that regularly uses wheat lots with a very low falling number. Let’s call it Mill X. There are many bakers and bakeries who use this flour, completely unaware of the flour’s ‘deficiencies,’ and, yet, each still manages to bake perfectly acceptable loaves of bread, some that regularly grace the glossy pages of national food magazines.

Mill X also engages in the very odd practice of aging their flour for unusually lengthy periods of time before releasing it for sale.

I’m not even sure the miller’s aware of the impact of his or her decisions, but the relationship seems clear to me.

I have resisted posting on this subject until I can further verify my hypothesis (as even being true, which I suspect it is).

I am currently working with several milling scientists and a miller to confirm my suspicions.

Fired up.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Thu, 16 May 2013 01:04:00 +0000

Oven type is rarely considered for its influence on bread. The importance cannot be understated, as we’d otherwise be eating raw dough.

Yet we must also be aware of the energy amounts and sources used in the construction and continual heating of our ovens. For instance, my deck oven would bother me less if I were using a renewable energy resource. (This is a goal.)

I like the idea of ovens that run efficiently using a local, renewable energy source.

Wood-fire is elemental. Know what I miss more than Pizzeria Bianco? The smell of Pizzeria Bianco.

I am not sure humans have fully pushed the design boundaries for wood-fired ovens as far as they can go. There are so many novel heat exchange systems possible that it would be ignorant to assume the best oven designs are behind us.

Take Llopis ovens, for one. (I love them.) The loaves that emerge from the tiny mouths of these cylindrical behemoths speak volumes in themselves, regardless of baker, bakery location or practices. This tells me these ovens (and their design) can correct for poor bakers.

PiPs introduced me to the idea of wood-fired steam-tube ovens, like Dave Miller uses at his Bakehouse. Most steam-tube ovens manufactured in Australia are warmed by gas, diesel or electricity.

I’d love to hear what different people think.

I know Phil has a lot of very knowledgeable things to share regarding this issue.

On My Mind (Read in Willy Nelson’s Voice)

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Wed, 15 May 2013 08:30:00 +0000

Do not aerate your starter as a default habit.

I only use this trick when struggling to reach significant levels of acetate in my starter or bread starters (leavens). Factors affecting this decision stem mostly from the age of a flour or its ash content, as well as fermentation temperature. Oxygenation is a means of controlling the redox potential of your sourdough substrate.

I suspect ‘my’ starter process is just one of many possible, all with the same outcome. I’d also venture a guess that using only wheat flour (especially freshly-milled), a similar, fully-viable starter can be easily reached after 7 inoculations at 5 – 10% and constant dough temperatures of 30°C. Time between refreshments can be as long as 24 hours and as little as 12.

I have posted about the use of an enzymatic preferment but with little of the warnings, other than cautioning not to use a non-Lb SF sourdough culture. This may seem a ridiculous concept as bakers are not microbiologists, without the physical means of sampling, isolating, culturing and accurately measuring the number and type of each species in the sample. But it is not.

There are particular outcomes in bread that are not otherwise possible if Lb. sanfranciscensisis absent. A big part of this comes down to flavour. Cultures without Lb SF do not taste as good. As a quick, off-the-cuff experiment, I’d encourage anybody reading this entry to reply with two lists, one for ‘good’ flavours found in sourdough and one for ‘bad’ or ‘off’ flavours. Once a sufficient list is compiled, I will do an in-depth post on the science of flavour in sourdough, with an attempt to explain, in real terms, the compounds behind every relevant, listed flavour, as well as the cultures and processes behind the compounds.

This might be a good starting point for me, as it always helps me to have structure. My answer may not even be a single post.

Another discovery was made recently from a spectacular failure. I rarely work with fresh flour. It’s indeed much different than aged flour, regardless of milling process.

The best way of describing its effects on a starter or dough with a starter would be more, as in more of everything, including aromatic volatiles; simple and especially higher sugars; enzyme and microbial activity; vitamin-, mineral- and micronutrient-content; and so on.

This intuitively makes sense, as the fresher the flour, the greater the levels of those substrates necessary for life. Once the pericarp’s crushed and broken through, a massive dying-off effect occurs, with organic compounds suddenly and precipitously experiencing a nose-dive that inexorably leads to amounts that are one-third to half of their original values.

This sort of channels Chris Bianco’s mantra about freshness: as soon as you pick something, it’s dying. You need to get it onto a plate and into a mouth as quickly as possible, because it’s otherwise dead, and who wants to eat dead food?

With flour this is and is not the case. There’s a trade-off. Rheology versus taste, digestibility, nutrition. The fresher the flour, the greater the latter.

But there’s also a balance.

None of us wants to be shaping bucky, short doughs, only later to grind our jaws on their final, leaden form. The beauty of the wheat grain is its uniquely strong, extensible and water-insoluble protein-matrix. Its doughs are meant to stretch out, to swell upward and outward when filled with air, like a brown, leathery balloon. Yet the last three centuries have been a caricature of this ideal. Commercial yeast, as a by-product of the brewing industry in France and England, has led us away from the bread was made for 99.9% of its history toward a newer, lighter, whiter form.

Calvel’s history of French bread is largely a romantic one, reimagining the bread of his youth as a so-called national ‘golden age’ for its bakers. Every generation thinks the next brandishes the hand-baskets for a one-way carting of all precious social standards to hell. Historically, this has always been the case for bread in the French tradition. There were bakers in Paris who, at the end of the 18^th century, sneered at the inclusion of brewer’s yeast, about how its use led to whiter, lighter and faster-to-rise loaves.

The history of commercialised yeast is the story of these whiter, lighter, and faster loaves of bread, and the replacement of human capital (under the auspices of bettering the working conditions and hours of bakers) with mechanised proxies.

It’s funny to visit a standard French bakery nowadays. Pick one, they’re all mostly the same. Even the best. There are machines, built primarily in Europe for a European market, that are capable of mechanising, with minimal human aid or input, each critical step in the making of breads and Viennoiserie in the French tradition, enabling as little as a single baker to work per shift but still have a product-line that would require at least three more people in the same amount of time, if it were to be done by hand.

One expects this technical reliance on equipment in industrial bread, like the sort on supermarket shelves or available on airline sandwiches, or even when an industrially-scaled standard is expected to be upheld in disparate locations across the globe, as is the case with Maison Kayser shops. But how about in an independent, ‘artisanal’ bakeshop run by a husband and wife? This happens to be the norm across France, unfortunately, rather than the exception.

The current curriculum taught to young French bakers is based upon the primacy of commercially-cultivated yeast. Lionel Poilâne notoriously turned his nose up at baguettes, a bread he derided as a ‘Viennese import,’ and, yet, he was an artisan who on the other hand accepted the legitimacy of commercial yeast.

All of this leads to whiter flour, of course, and ultimately to my idea of the enzymatic preferment.

How does this follow from the mistake mentioned above?

I brought PiPs some of my T-75, a sample that’d been freshly roller-milled and blended a day prior to my visit. The flour smelled amazing, as it normally does, but it had disastrous results using Phil’s starter, also made with freshly-milled flour. Combined with Brisbane’s hotter weather, the resulting doughs went too far enzymatically, losing all their fermentation tolerance. They came out of the oven flat, reddish-brown and tasting off.

It wasn’t his starter or his flour or my flour at fault, but, rather, a combination of all of the above.

The enzymatic preferment process was developed as a reaction to (or against) crap, aged flour, ones commercially available on supermarket shelves anywhere in the world.

That is, the lower the ash content and fermentation temperature, and the higher the age (in weeks, even months), the greater the need for increased or enhanced enzymatic activity. When a flour is freshly milled or of a higher extraction, or if temperatures are muggy and hot outside, there is either less or no need at all for enzymatic prefermentation. (The use of autolyse in these cases would be purely for rheological and physical benefits, such as greater aveolation or enhanced crumb colour.)

Bread, Alone.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Tue, 14 May 2013 04:28:00 +0000

The first copy of H.E. Jacobs’ Six Thousand Years of Bread I owned was a used copy from the Strand. (To any cookbook lovers in New York City, here’s a helpful hint to snag cheap, rare, oversized European cookbooks: the downstairs foreign-language section of the Strand, especially in the French, Spanish, German and Italian sections. It’s best to browse often, as multiples copies are rare.) This is years ago.

I finished the book, disappointed. I was probably too young to realise ‘bread’ was the book’s maguffin, that the author was really writing an impressionistic, psycho-social history of the recent West.

(Later re-readings, with this new perspective in mind, still disappoint.)

I did get one thing from it (other than its bibliography), and that’s the phrase ‘ars pistorica.’

While in Brisbane I read through a borrowed copy of Hamelman’s book, the new version. What struck me most while reading it was a persistently nagging thought: Why would I want to own this?

Do not get me wrong. Parts of the book are fantastic, with photos to prove, such as his sourdoughs.

Then there are many formulas (bagels) and photos (pizza) that are either uninspired, mediocre, or both.

Much of the science in the first part of the book is wrong, either because it’s outdated or from lack of research into newer scholarship (from the last 15 years).

This frustrates me.

How does one of the best bakers in the world write a book that gets so much wrong?

This is why I founded this project.

For quite some time I thought it might be able to be a collaborative project, one I can let go of. I was wrong.

I am now in a position to still realise my dream: a collaborative project, but with funding.

My bakery, Apiece, will always be a work-in-progress. It will be both a real-world sourdough bakery as well as a bread-lab. I also have a well-equipped mill as a playground.

The Ars pistorica project will also continue but in a newer, different form, all funded by me. I still want it to be a collaborative project, with more user-contribution.

All those seeking bread are welcome.

There’s still a hell of a lot of information I want to share, and even more I want to learn.

The Whole Grain Picture

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Sun, 12 May 2013 07:24:00 +0000

Within days, I will turn the keys for the first time to enter my shop. The oven’s newer, a four-deck, steam-injected Moffat, an artefact of the previous bakery’s closure.

I just spent a week in Brisbane, tinkering with and around a still-being-christened wood-burning oven. I’ve long been suspect of Alan Scott ovens. I still am.

My hosts were gracious. Those not following the talent that exists, professionally, in the Chester Street bakery are remiss. Phil’s bread is the only bread I’ve seen in Australia that makes me miss the North American baking scene. Only difference is, we are working with a lower-grade, white wheat flour in Australia that is bred and grown for an Eastern export market (so our breads are consequently more lowly hydrated by 6 – 7%). Dark bakes with acetate and the use of whole grain.

More specifically, freshly-milled whole-grain.

I had never heard of Miller’s Bakehouse in Chico, California, where there’s an ascetic, gawky rail of a man making bread the way bread ought to be made.

The owner has a strange, clunky Willa Wonka flour machine crafted from blonde pine. It stone-grinds grains self-fed from a hopper, with the miller able to set the turning stone to achieve varying degrees of fineness after first pass.

Using a sifting attachment, the miller can separate the grain into several basic milling fractions, flour (endosperm from first pass or break), dunst, semolina, and pollard. The last three can all then be re-milled and re-sifted, increasing extraction rate. (In Australia, this should equate to about roughly 79 – 80%).

These funny, beautiful contraptions are called getreidemühlen.

Phil has a household getreidemühle, a noisy, German wood sculpture that sits cutely on its benchtop like some pragmatic Bauhaus, minimal rendering of an ardvaark with an upturned umbrella.

My bakery will have a getreidemühle.

Phil has seen my Tas-75. He gets where I’m going with my flour project.

I have also seen Phil’s results with freshly-milled flour. (Is there any other way?)

Now I need local growers. With the right wheat type, Tasmania can become Australia’s wheat belt as mainland temperatures rise over the next two decades.

This project, Ars pistorica, has only just begun.

Fall on Bottom.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 05:24:00 +0000

Autumn holds something special for me. This may have to do with being raised in Texas and Arizona, where the only seasons you get are hot or Republicans. Neither is particularly fun.

New York City waits to slip into autumn, later most years nowadays. This is the time of year Americans call rightly or wrongly call ‘fall,’ and it’s a great time in the city. My favourite New York chefs and kitchens are at their best this time of year.

It’s spring now, in the northern hemisphere, and autumn where I am.

It’s a peculiar turn of events.

I live in Australia’s southernmost state, Tasmania, an island of apples, bogans, and green pastures unto itself.

The air is cleaner where I live. (It’s rated as the cleanest in the world, supposedly.)

The latitude is similar to New York, and, unsurprisingly, I find much of the same kind of produce here as I used to at the Union Square farmer’s market. Right now, for here, this means a season of dirty profit: heirloom, Dickensian-sounding varieties of apples and potatoes; smallish, fat wine grapes for a schiacciata laced with fennel (last year a friend growing Montepulciano grapes plied me with leftovers from his ‘micro’ harvest, probably so he’d get leftover schiacciata, which worked in his favour); stalky, bitter greens with brightly hued stems; local mushrooms and black truffles (Tasmania’s are better than France’s at the moment, in my opinion, but this is to be expected due to France’s much drier summers this decade past); and root vegetables.

This is the time of year my Benriner’s blade is progressively sharpened up to my finest grit stone (14,000) on a daily basis. I love these crisp, paper-thin and starchy fruits and vegetables folded into or atop cakes, tarts, flat-breads, hearth loaves, custardy flans, quiches, gratins, and pizzes.

Autumn, for me, is mandoline weather.

This Year's Best Of

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 10:22:00 +0000

A heartfelt congratulations goes out to Ridha Khadher, owner-proprietor of Au Paradis du Gourmand, the newly-couronne’d winner of 2013’s Best Baguette in Paris. I have not been to Paris since early 2010, so there’s 4 years’ worth of winners whose baguettes I have yet to bury my nose into, before devouring it and all its siblings. (I find it best to buy more than one sample to try, and on more than one day, as it gives you a better baseline by which to justify eating a lot of shit you already paid for.)

There are not a lot of great baguettes in Paris, or anywhere for that matter. Even if it is great, it won't be in four hours' time. Who's to say the issue is really my timing and not the baker's?

Flavour matters most for me. The reason I love bread is because it tastes so fucking good. For baguettes, this means using lower-grade flours that retain some portion of the aurelone fraction as part of the blend; a preference for white wheat versus red; the use of a natural starter, even as a dough improver; a barely formidable acetic acid presence; a ferment and bake that results in enhanced enzymatic browning; and, most importantly, a fuckload of commercial yeast metabolites.

Another shout-out goes to Dominique Saibron, a baker’s baker, always so perilously close to the win. But not quite. He’s in good company, though, sitting on the bench with Susan Lucci and 86-years’ worth of Red Sox players.

This year he placed 7^th overall this year, and 3^rd in 2010.

So, in honour, here’s his baguette formula, reverse-engineered as best I could. Any errors are mine alone. For reference to technique and timing, there are some helpful videos of his process here and there.

100% flour (T-55 / T-65 blend)

66.8% water

12% levain (60% hydration)

80% poolish (4 – 5h)

2% salt, final

1% yeast, fresh

Q. Enzymatic Preferment for Rye? Yes!

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 06:55:00 +0000

‘Can you please expand your explanation on the use of autolyse with rye and whole wheat? Is the percentage of whole wheat or rye present in the final dough the decider of whether to autolyse or not? Or how long to autolyse? For example, if I am using 100% rye or 100% whole wheat then I shouldn't autolyse. But if I am only using one tenth of rye or whole wheat comparing to bread flour, then I can autolyse?’

The enzymatic preferment can be used with any grade of wheat flour. It works even better as ash content increases, with fresh-ground whole wheat representing the most healthful and flavourful. I would always recommend fresh, whole-grain breads over all else, with or without this method, depending upon your taste.

Rye’s different, but there’s still an appreciable gain in flavour after a very long autolyse (up to 24 hours) owing to an increased amino acid and peptide release. Hydrolysis alone, though, is not sufficient to degrade rye secalins (which are alcohol-soluble), something normally achieved with rye sourdough (RSD, as mentioned below) or under artificially acidified conditions, as acid increases the solubilisation of the secalins.

Here are some excerpts from, “Degradation of Secalins During Rye Sourdough Fermentation,” Tuukkanen, et al., available for download free here.

‘The changes in FAN values (Fig. 3), however, show that some protein degradation also occurred at pH 6.1 as the FAN increased during the incubation nearly twofold from 140 to 275 mg/kg. This indicates that some proteases also were activated at neutral pH conditions. At pH 3.6, the corresponding relative increase in FAN values was threefold from 140 to 430 mg/kg is present . . .’

‘Compared with recent studies in gluten protein degradation in wheat sourdoughs (Thiele et al 2003, 2004; Loponen et al 2004), the degradation of rye secalins was similar in RSD. The major hydrolysis of proteins started as the sourdough pH had lowered to pH 4. In addition, in both sourdough-types, the proteolytic activity that is responsible for the major hydrolysis of cereal storage proteins originates from endogenous proteolytic enzymes of cereals.’

‘. . . [B]ecause the FAN values increased during the incubation at pH 6.1 (Fig. 3), it seems that the serine-type proteases or endogenous exopeptidases of rye (Brijs et al 1999) are able to liberate peptides and amino acids from rye proteins (other than secalins) at neutral pH conditions.’

Proof of Work

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 07:08:00 +0000

Can you please provide explanations or references on the formula you mentioned above? For example, in the first equation, what does the 2 mean? How did you arrive at that magic number or formula? How do you get the temperature and time relationship? And all those numbers right after you mentioned salt's percentage, what do they mean? How did you derive them? And when you said teeter activity of 0.99=0.1224. What does the 0.1224 mean?

Most of this data is extrapolated from too many sources I can recall at the moment, with the obvious one being the Gänzle, Ehmann and Hammes paper, ‘Modeling of Growth of Lactobacillus sanfranciscensis and Candida milleri in Response to Process Parameters of Sourdough Fermentation.’

Much of the math and raw data’s available in this paper.

However, I had to find all the other data on water activity from a number of different sources.

2 represents log 100, as the base formula for calculating number of generations is:

(log 100 – log inoculant %) / .301

This establishes the number of possible generations required before maximal population size is attained, which can be converted to a base ‘time’ by assigning a generation or cell doubling ‘time’ based upon temperature. Obviously, this number assumes a static situation (that the cells will be living in a constantly held temperature).

The number arrived at is then multiplied by whatever various factors might increase or decrease the overall amount of time necessary before fermentation to be complete. Salt is expressed as ionic strength (formula in paper above), so the numbers listed across from the salt percentages are the factors (or rates) by which each corresponding salt level will slows a dough’s fermentation. Hydration must be expressed as water activity, but this is a negligible factor (it’s the only reason I included it).

Converting hydration to water activity is tricky because a dough’s water activity is constantly changing, and, in the end, only minutely affects the rate at which cells grow compared to all the other factors a baker uses.

The .1224 is really meant to say: the rate at which a dough with a water activity of .99 ferments results in a net decrease in total fermentation time of .1224%.

Q. Numbers & Flavours.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 06:38:00 +0000

Can you please explain what 1.65 and the 29.1225% mean?

Just as a reference, this question is in response to this passage:

‘I then adjust my hydrations in each step of feeding as necessary for whatever outcome I may be trying to effect. E.g., if I wanted to mix this starter using my normal flour and hydration, I’d multiply 17.65 by 1.65, arriving at an overall starter percentage of 29.1225% compared to 100% flour. If wanting to use a more liquid starter for flavour or rheological purposes, I can simply adjust my math.’

In the above example, I was showing how I would create a novel formula from-scratch. In this hypothetical, 15% of the overall flour in the formula’s prefermented.

So the remaining 85% then becomes the formula’s de facto 100%.

15 / 85 = 17.6470588

This means the inoculation (as expressed in the formula) is 17.65%.

1.65 is simply the factor I would use to calculate the overall levain percentage once water’s factored in. In this case, the hydration is 65% (it’s just an arbitrary number).

To calculate how much starter is needed versus 100% formula flour amount, 17.65 is multiplied by 1.65, resulting in 29.1225% total levain for the formula.

Also, does inoculation affect flavor of the bread? If yes, how does affect the flavor?

That’s a great question with a complicated answer.

The short version? Yes.

The long version? Yes, but . . .

There are other factors that must be determined first.

Temperature? Type of starter? Flours used? Refreshment methods and schedule? Etc.

The answer is more of a “when x inoculation is used with temperature y, starter z, etc.” then one arrives at “outcome A.”

I should probably begin to write more about flavour (the types possible and the various ways they are achieved or not ), as all the answers seem to have a “but” following them.

Catching Some Air.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 06:11:00 +0000

So I built the starter, as directed but I'm having some issues. After refreshment 3, the starter tastes quite sour but isn't "fluffy" in any way. To test its strength I mixed up 10g of the starter (after the 3rd refreshment) with 100g of flour and 100g of water to see how well it would leaven. After 17 hours of sitting at room temp (73F) it has not risen at all, and no visible bubbles.

And mariana_aga's photo-illustrated blog appears to be deleted, so my previous frame of reference is gone :( Any ideas? I'm on my 5th refreshment (day 5), and this time I fed a little bit of whole grain rye to see if that would help kick start it further. I've written up my take on the process, and will share it here soon. My issue is that for all my attention to detail, it's frustrating that it's not working so far.

Good question.

I cannot give you a satisfactory answer, as there are too many unknowns.

However, here are some thoughts I would have in your shoes.

Before delving too far there is one immediate, possible suspect that comes to mind. I did not mention this earlier, and probably should have. When creating a type I starter for the first time, it can take until the seventh refreshment (i.e., after the sixth has completely fermented) for whichever species of yeast(s) are present to reach their maximal, stable populations.

But I am guessing this is not the culprit, as you should’ve seen the presence of carbon-dioxide after your first refreshment.

Let’s assume the error is not the process (though it very well could be) but either in its replication or in the materials used.

This allows us to try to isolate variables.

Flour used?

Water used?

How accurately maintained were the temperatures?

Do you document everything?

It’s evident the yeast population hasn’t either taken hold or built up to its final size yet (their numbers incrementally get bigger over the course of 4 to 7 refreshments before reaching their final population size).

Why this would be, well, there’s a bunch of reasons: Too high a final dough temperature for too many refreshments. Feeding after the first or second refreshment too early. And so on.

You do have two options at this point.

Continue to feed or start over.

Your choice.

I’d start over, as this gives you a chance to practice.

I would caution: ignore all sensorial cues when creating a starter.

I suggest this because, if you blindly follow procedure without paying it too much mind (say, giving the process the same attention you would something rote, like folding laundry), most people doing it for the first time discover that it works a treat. Actually, easier than that.

I say this because until something has been done a certain number of times (for creating a starter, I’d say 30), any response to the state of the starter might be the wrongone.

Whenever I mess up, I immediately start over. I secretly relish the chance to begin again, because it allows me to question everything I do and to learn from my mistakes.

Ignore all sensorial clues the second time around.

Dump the shit in the bag and forget about it.

Because, in baking, the more you fuck up, the better you’ll become.

In a Nutshell.

noreply@blogger.com (ars pistorica) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 23:21:00 +0000

‘After further reading I understand your response & approach much better. And seeing mariana_aga's photographic guide to your process (as well as sight/smell descriptions) clarified a couple of things:

1. given the right substrate, temperature and schedule, L. sanfranciscensis will outcompete any other stinky bacteria and

2. the stink phase is irrelevant because of #1; yes it still happens but who cares.

3. because of #1, the finished product, which contains a thriving L. sanfranciscensis that remains in log growth.

I'm trying out the approach myself, we'll see how it turns out. I can say that even after the initial 12 hours or so, it is extremely active/foamy/fizzy!’

Essentially, yes. Lb SF should be seen as omnipresent, as long as wheat or rye is involved and there’s a human element in tow. It wantsto be (and will be) the dominant organism in a type I sourdough (yes, I was being anthropomorphic, as Lb SF wants for nothing as a species, as nature has no goal), and it will be, if you create the right circumstances for it to be. Multiple studies have confirmed this: Lb SF is wheat/rye’s native son, and will always emerge as the dominant organism under a certain range of conditions. (For instance, its metabolic activity matches ours, requiring daily feeding. It’s mesophilic, preferring a temperature range of 20° - 30°C, and is a relative acidophile compared to other obligately heterofermentative bacteria, with an ideal pH range of anything above 4.0, with higher pHs corresponding to higher growth rates. And so on.)

My starter process was based upon one I have seen Éric Kayer use in relation to his Fermento-levain ‘technical support’ literature. His wasn’t ideal, though, because it used growth rates that resulted in initial dough pHs that are too low for optimal Lb SF reproduction as well as maintaining at least a 100% hydration throughout (of little interest to me). But his system was clever in its use of different temperatures, first using high temperatures to establish a desirable, acidifying secondary microflora, as a highly-evolved ‘back’ culture of ‘generalists’ is essential to establishing the presence of the ‘specialist’ (remembering we’re only discussing lactic-acid bacteria at this point) in whatever food fermentation is taking place.

As far as its origins, one study shows that Lb SF is ubiquitous in raw (non-sterile) wheat, which seems evident, but there’s still likely another intermediary organism or group of organisms that contaminate the grain itself. Another recent study recovered an organism that matched Lb SF’s genome by 97%. The organism was found in the intestinal tract of fruit flies. Unfortunately, there is a certain level of genome ‘match’ required to distinguish species from one another, which is around 98.4%. The researchers writing the study concluded that this species could not, then, be said to be Lb SF. (Science is rigorous for a reason.) Despite this, the newest edition of Handbook on Sourdough Biotechnologyreferences the study (without mentioning the study’s own conclusions), suggesting fruit flies may be Lb SF’s ultimate source. Fruit flies seem one likely organism, but I’m suspecting there’s many more. Including us.