STIR THE POTS

Altus

I've fiddled with a technique of adding old bread into new dough, which is known by its German name, Altus. The man who inspired my recent attempts has the great literary name "Pip," the hero of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations.

Pip is from Oz. Check out his amazing breads on The Fresh Loaf. Whether it's his impressive milling grains, use of biodynamic flours, or the array of different flawless breads on the site, he's terrific. Well, like another character from Dickens' novel (Mrs. Havisham) I almost put myself in flames, catching fire while tasting this "grain" loaf of his. Dickens' references aside...make this loaf, as you won't be dissapointed!

Tartine bread

I'm back at the Tartine Bread Book, trying to figure out why I haven't latched on successfully to Chad Robertson's zen-like bread style. My latest effort included fatal math errors around confused proportions. Nevermind that, I had my calculator and worked out the numbers, enlarging the formula... etc, etc, etc.

 

The tricky bit was building this wobbly loaf's gluten strength, even after giving it several folds. Along the way, my banneton stuck and, well, I wresteled this loaf into my creuset pot best I could.Try slashing in a insanley hot pot with a wobbly wet dough. Let's just say it wasn't looking good at all...

Hmmm... not too bad once cut!

Marc André Cyr and Olive et Gourmando

 

Years ago visiting Montreal for the first time, I enjoyed the cafe Olive et Gourmando. It's home to my new-found baking friend Marc Andre Cyr. We met on Twitter, with both of us sharing a big appreciation for great bread. He both bakes and cooks at the cafe, and gives private classes. If you can't go visit him in Montreal, visit his blog.

 
                                  Marc and Vanessa with breads for Osteria Venti

 

Visiting this past weekend, this place was packed. As the photo below states (a sign that sits above the counters), Olive et Gourmando are serving true quality.

After communicating over Twitter, I finally had a chance to meet him. He invited me to stay for lunch, suggesting a salmon platter, one of the many dishes his girlfriend Vanessa (who cooks with him at the cafe) had created. 

Featuring hot smoked and cold smoked salmon, a menagerie of salad, radishes, cucumbers, egg, celery remoulade, it was delicious and beautiful. It came with a serving of Marc's amazing toasted buckwheat bread the seeds of which provided a lovely nuance to a flavor-filled platter, which I washed down with some Oregonian beer from Rogue Ale, Dead guy ale. 

I returned again for breakfast the next day, enjoying at Pointe-à-Callière in the sun, a cafe Americano with a Chausson au pomme covered with brown sugar and amazing apple filling. As well as a a brioche filled with apricots, white chocolate and macadamia for desert. Decadent, eh?

 My last morning in Montreal, I had to get to Olive et Gourmando to say goodbye to Marc, so why not have some breakfast? I ordered up Vanessa's "poached-egg-on-your-face-panini sandwich," very difficult to eat but amazing to eat, worth the post-sandwich face wiping and messy fingers!

Gökhan

My friend Gökhan Sökmen recently got in touch with me via Facebook. I'm a big admirer of his bread, and he seems to think mine make a passing grade. Anyway, apparently he was transplanted to Tokyo. The kid has talent. But as we know, Japan suffered a natural and man-made disaster. This is a shout out to him and, of course, a moment to remember those living in Japan.

Recently I had tried a formula he had made at my Turkish host and friend, Dilara Erbay. When I first attempted the bread while in Istanbul, I noticed the difference with his and mine. He pointed out a missing ingredient: carob molasses! This time, I used the molasses, and made my levained version with both rye and wheat in the starter mix, as well as a soaker of oats, sesame, flax and what I hand on hand: broccoli and alfalfa sprouting seeds. It worked.

 

Inspirations

Lately I have people asking questions about sourdough, specifically maintaining methods, flours, hydrations etc. But my own experience in baking success or failure is about the starter. It's both sort of simple and sort of complicated. Beyond that, let's say that I'm not great at explaining all the finer points of what the hell gets me through the bake, but I can pass on advice through those who have inspired me.

Take Mick Hartley of Bethesda baking fame, one of my former partners on Dan Lepard's forum. Mick's advice really helped my own baking efforts, and even school wasn't as clear as his way to explain things, especially to a lazy baker like me. Well, Mick just sent me his new book. It's terrific, a great source containing simple methods for budding bakers. Check it out, as it will be your gain!

Susan of Wild Yeast has always made great bread and is a wealth of information on her blog. She's helped me a lot. I even had the opportunity once to co-blog on a challenging bread from another great source, Wolfgang Süpke. Once in a while I will pass out proven formulas, hoping anyone reading this blog, whether professional or novice, can make sense of my spreadsheets and percentages I spew from this screen. Anyway, thinking of Mick and Susan and Wolfgang and Dan today... led me to one thought... Go bake bread!

 

Agustín Oliet (Gusete)

 

Agustín Oliet

I first heard about  Agustín Oliet through his collaboration with Javier Marca and Ibán Yarza. I wanted to know more about this quiet team member of the Spanish bread blog, Madrid Tiene Miga. From what I could tell, he's a home-baker with passion. His moniker is Gusete. Recently I had an opportunity to interview him. He speaks with wisdom and brought real pleasure to be able to find new friends in this exciting baking revival happening in Spain.

 Jeremy: How did you get interested in baking bread? 

 Agustín: Since I was a little boy, I have enjoyed seeing stuff growing in the oven. I use to think that it’s better than a 1950’s sci-fi movie. Discovering bread baking, so simple apparently and however so difficult, it was almost a personal need. 

Jeremy: What does bread mean for you?

Agustín: Peace. Patience. Home.

Jeremy: If you could change your career would you become a baker?

Agustín: For sure!

Jeremy: Is there bread you most prefer to make?

Agustín: The newest discovered recipe is always the one I am dying to try, but I also repeat many breads because of my vanity. I love the applause of my family and friends.

Jeremy:  Thinking of bread, what’s your favorite sandwich?

Agustín:  Two thick slices of rustic white bread rubbed with tomato, olive oil and Iberian ham.

Jeremy: Is there a typical bread you like in your region?

Agustín:  I grew up in Madrid where there is no longer a bread culture. The market is dominated by large companies of mass production of precooked bread. It’s almost impossible to find good bread. However, in the south of Spain (Andalusia) where I have spent most of my holidays there are some good types of breads. The Mollete de Antequera, an Arabic influenced bread, is one of them. Recently I got a very acceptable version, which I published in Madrid Tiene Miga.

Jeremy:   How did you get involved with Madrid tiene miga?

Agustín:  By chance! Some of us met after making a common online order of bannetons and the idea of having a blog came out. That was 3 years ago and we are still together!

Jeremy:  Can you describe the rise of home baking in Spain?

Agustín:  It is curious and beautiful thing. Home bakers in Spain have different ages, different backgrounds and different reasons for baking bread, but the common passion is intense ending up with us together in an spontaneous, osmotic way. In a common bread recipe published by Javier Marca and I in MTM, we talked about how exciting is to put the bread in the oven and many people commented that they also loved this moment. At the end, I think that what is happening is that we simply miss the real bread.

Jeremy: Who influences you in the baking forums, books, bakers?

Agustín: All of them. The work of Dan Lepard, Iban Yarza and Javier Marca is important, as without them I could not call me artisan baker. But many of my knowledge comes from American books (Reinhart, Hamelman, Buehler), or hours and hours reading stuff in The Fresh Loaf, Wild Yeast, Ye olde bread blogger, Au Levain ...

Jeremy: When choosing formulas where do you find your sources of information primarily?

Agustín: Usually I bake in the weekends, and I can remember a recipe that caught my attention on a visit to a blog or a forum during the week, but sometimes the bread dough is just formed in my head, and then I go to ground books to find confirmation for that idea, or to tweak the hydration...

Jeremy: Sourdough or commercial yeast, which do you prefer?

Agustín:  I think it should not be any debate about yeast or sourdough, because we talk about two entirely different things. It seems that the home baker should be a purist, and only use sourdough because yeast is a professional sin, but I think this is near-sightedness. I recently listened to Dan Lepard summarize very well this idea, saying something like, "When I was younger I was so arrogant that I thought that only sourdogh bread was good, and I've learned with age to use sourdough or yeast depending on the bread that I became interested in each time "

Jeremy:  Do you buy bread in bakeries or do you prefer making it yourself?

Agustín:  Sometimes I buy things that are sold in bakeries under the name of bread, but I'm trying to quit ...

Jeremy: Is baking addictive?

Agustín: Just behind sex.

Jeremy: Does your family understand why you bake bread?

Agustín: Yes, in essence. Perhaps not the more intimate reasons, these ones that make baking a need, but nor do I.

Jeremy: …And do they like tasting your bread?

Agustín:  Daily!

THE END

 -----------------------------------------------

Below is a translation of the interview in Spanish.

Agustín Oliet

Me enteré de Agustín Oliet a través de su colaboración con Javier Marca y Yarza Iban ... yo quería saber quién era este miembro del equipo de la tranquilidad de la tríada español por detrás de Madrid TIENE Miga. Él es un panadero en casa con la pasión, el hombre tranquilo detrás del blog, su apodo es Gusete, comprobar hacia fuera, él habla mucho de la sabiduría y se está llenando el círculo de mis nuevos amigos que se encuentran en el renacimiento español para hornear!

Jeremy:¿Cómo te interesaste en hacer pan?

Agustín:Desde que era pequeño me encanta ver cosas creciendo en el horno, es más intrigante que una vieja película de CF de serie B de los años 50. Descubrir el pan, su aparente simplicidad y, sin embargo, su dificultad, era casi una necesidad.

Jeremy ¿Qué significa para usted el pan?

Agustín:Sosiego. Paciencia. Hogar.

Jeremy: Si pudieras cambiar tu carrera te conviertirías en panadero?

Agustín: Indudablemente.

Jeremy: ¿Hay una receta de pan que prefieres hacer?

Agustín: La nueva receta recien descubierta siempre es la que más me apetece, aunque muchos los repito por vanidad (quiero decir, por recibir los aplausos de la familia o los amigos)

Jeremy: ¿Cual es tu bocadillo favorito?

Agustín:Pan de payés con tomate, aceite de olive y jamón ibérico.

Jeremy: ¿Hay algún pan típico de tu región que te guste?

Agustín: He crecido en Madrid, donde la cultura del pan se ha perdido. El mercado está dominado por las grandes empresas de producción masiva de pan precocido, es difícil encontrar buen pan… Sin embargo, en el sur (Andalucía) donde he pasado la mayoría de mis vacaciones, hay algunos buenos panes. El Mollete de Antequera, un pan de clara influencia árabe,  es uno de ellos (hace poco conseguí una versión bastante aceptable, que publiqué en Madrid Tiene Miga).

Jeremy: ¿Cómo te involucraste con Madrid Tiene Miga?

Agustín: De casualidad! De un encargo de bannetons por internet que hicimos entre varios surgió la idea, y ya llevamos casi tres años juntos!

Jeremy: ¿Puedes describir el auge de la panadería casera en España?

Agustín:Es una cosa curiosa y bonita. Los panaderos caseros en España tienen distintas edades, distintos orígenes, distintas razones para hacer pan, pero la pasión común es igual de intensa, y eso ha hecho que acabemos por reunirnos de forma casi espontánea. En un pan que publicamos en común Javier Marca y yo en MTM bromeamos sobre el momento en que metes el pan en el horno, sobre compartirlo abrazados y emocionados… Mucha gente comentó “A mi también me encanta”. Creo que lo que pasa es, simplemente, que echamos de menos el pan auténtico.

Jeremy:¿Quién te influye más a la hora de hacer pan, los foros, los libros, los panaderos?

Agustín:Todos ellos. El trabajo de Dan Lepard, Iban Yarza y Javier Marca es importantísimo, tanto que creo que sin ellos no podría decir que se hacer pan. Pero muchos de mis conocimientos provienen de libros americanos  (Reinhart, Hamelman, Buehler), o de horas y horas leyendo cosas en The Fresh Loaf, Wild Yeast, Ye olde bread blogge, Au Levain…

Jeremy: Al elegir las fórmulas, ¿Cuáles son tus fuentes de información más frecuentes?

Agustín: Quizá recuerde alguna receta que me llamó la atención en alguna visita a un blog o un foro durante la semana, pero a veces la idea para el pan se forma en mi cabeza, y entonces suelo acudir a los libros a buscar confirmación a esa idea, o a retocar su hidratación…

Jeremy:Masa madre o levadura comercial, que te gusta más?

Agustín: No debería haber debate sobre esto, son dos cosas completamente distintas. Parece que el panadero casero debe ser purista, y usar solo Sourdough, porque la levadura es un pecado de profesionales, pero yo creo que esta es una visión corta. Hace poco escuché a Dan Lepard resumir muy bien esta idea, decía algo así como que “cuando era más joven era tan arrogante que pensaba que solo el pan de sourdogh era bueno, y con la edad he aprendido a usar sourdough o levadura dependiendo del pan que me interese en cada momento”

Jeremy: ¿Compras el pan en las panaderías o prefieres hacerlo tú?

Agustín:A veces compro lo que venden en las panaderías con el nombre de pan, pero estoy intentando dejarlo…

Jeremy:¿Es adictivo hornear pan?

Agustín:Yo diría que solo por detrás del sexo J

Jeremy: ¿Tu familia entiende por qué haces pan?

Agustín: En esencia, si. Quizá las razones más íntimas, las que lo convierten en una necesidad, no las entiendo ni yo mismo…

Jeremy:... Y se lo comen?

Agustín: A diario!

EL FIN

 

 

Baker's Hours

Last weekend I returned to a routine of late night baking, something to be experienced at least once in any baker's life; the graveyard shift of weighing, mixing, and cutting dough, waiting for the rise, gently rounding the pre-shape, the final shaping and then ultimately guiding it into the oven for the bake. Sometimes it's a ballet, other times a battle - the little complexities of the process amplified by the evening's solitude.  It can sometimes leave you feeling like the last person standing, or just the last person awake. 

Like the act of eating bread, the graveyard-bake is something played around the world. And after working a regular job for eight or ten or even more hours, it can be slightly demanding on a person's body. And soul. Ah, the loneliness of the all-night baker.

My introduction to such baking came a few years ago, following a nine month weekend-course on European bread, which led me to a few informal baking internships. I started by working a few afternoons at Amy's Bread, then some nights of filling bags for delivery orders. By then I was developing the sense that this was no romantic endeavor, but potentially exhausting if not back breaking. But my real test came next, where I managed to get a few nights in working with the bakers at Bouley, becoming their official "stagiaire," a French term for kitchen apprentice.

Doing it weekends, I'd get off from my Friday night shift as head chef at a midtown club, then in the humid heat of August head down to Bouley. There, I started off with learning simple skills like being charged with using a dough cutter to whack off huge multi-kilo chunks of dough from the center of a very big mixing bowl. Success meant more than surviving the heat of a summer urban kitchen, but heaving chunk after chunk with an elegant swoop onto a scale. 

I worked under a baker named Marc. Having grown up with a French mom, I usually feel at home around the language. But Marc's accent, what an academic might describe as "midi-Pyrenee" (he had roots in Touluse) made Bouley's other French-speaking bakers (all from Ivory Coast and Senegal)  sound like Parisians. All to say I didn't always understand his pronunciations. That said, he managed to be clear as gin in sharing his judgements as well as his expertise.

I still remember Marc's face turning blue in exasperation watching me try to shape the breads, his anger visceral as he re-tightened the flaccid batards I had just been working on for way-too-long. Whether I understood every word he said, I knew what he felt. And usually what he wanted. Often quiet, he'd surprise you with a sudden verbal response of "stop the machine," pointing out (seemingly by pure instinct) that the dough was mixed enough. Or he would simply touch the dough, and quickly give a nod or dismissal on its temperature and hydration.

Marc wore a gold medallion around his neck, a mini map of France. I came to think of that medallion as an old-fashioned symbol of a prestigious guild. Marc was a bonnified journeyman, known in France as a "compagnon," a traveling craftsman who worked his way around his nation's bakeries to attain a master baker status amongst his countrymen.

Last weekend while waiting into the morning hours for the dough to respond to my touch, I thought of Marc, the memories keeping me company. Truth be told, I also ventured away from the virtual world of my imagination to the virtual world online. These days if you have digital access, you you always can find other night-baking owls via things like Twitter, which offers anyone sharing the passion (okay, obsession) tweeting results from the mix, shape and bake! Marc lacked Twitter, but he would have understood and appreciated the commitment. This goes out to all bakers, the Marcs of the millennium.

These lovely loaves were just rock solid and had magical crackling noises coming from within their crisp golden skins....Gods of fire and brimstone were with me.

 

70% Rye From Hans Joachim, who else?

 

Batard of pain au levain 68% hydration...School formula, thanks FCI!

 

 

Fancy shaping, don't know the name of this clover looking thing, anyone?

Richard Bertinet

 

Richard Bertinet

It's been a while since I first purchased Richard Bertinet's Dough, a terrific book that includes a DVD with his now-famous method of "slapping" and folding dough. Some people find it more satisfying (even therapuetic) than gentle or no-knead techniques. Recently I had the chance to interview him for Stir the Pots.

In the interview, among other things Richard explains the background to his methods which he says are not new, but simply a continuation of traditions from when dough was prepared in wooden troughs. According to him, when electric machines (Artofex) were produced, they were engineered to mechanically replicate the technique. For Richard, there is no wasted movement in baking, the body is an extension or tool to control the bread or it controls you.

Hailing from Brittany, he now considers himself a Briton (more or less), in spite of his "outrageous" French accent. Based in Bath, he heads Bertinet Kitchens, teaching bread and food for small classes of up to 12 students. He is also the author Crust and his most recent book, Cook. Richard was recently awarded BBC Food Champion of the Year. Thinking about the interview, what I found most interesting was Richard's passion, especially for bread, bakers and learning from others. Light it up!

Click to listen

Percentages and intuition - critical baking ingredients

The importance of percentages but also intuition can't be overstated when it comes to baking bread. That came to mind right after getting my latest bread book, Tartine by Chad Robertson. It's beautifully packaged with a Corinthian leather feel. And the photography is amazing. As is the inspiring and idyllic story of Chad Robertson's travels through sourdough country in France and California. Getting it gave me the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. After admiring the photography and glancing through the pages, I quickly whipped into its recipes. But just as quickly I found out that maybe these formula's weren't quite up to snuff in the percentages department.

Recently in the The Fresh Loaf, I read an article Whole Wheat Loaf - "hole-y grail?" which reminds me of this experience. The article suggests that bakers should tap into tuition as much as dutifully following recipes. But also start with checking percentages. Sure you can follow a recipe, but are there errors in many baking/cook books. Thankfully some bakers will correct them. This makes great fodder on forums or a less then perfect loaf, so do the math before you bake.

The two times I made the rye, country loaf and whole wheat breads from Robertson's book, I found the dough was very slack; with a combination levain and dough having a high hydration. I used A.P. flour rather then bread flour, so this may have made a difference. What came out in my first bake, in actuality, was a very nice flax, sunflower seed loaf made with the rye  - though the add in was for the recipe calling for whole-wheat.

Taking a chance or just hoping for the best made it more interesting with an addition of a soaker. It was extremely wet and virtually impossible to shape. No picture but believe me, it was very tasty. The country loaf was also slack and sort of shapeless, even with the foldings, and dried out quickly. This latest bake, was promising but the loafs seemed flat, and my mom said it had too many  holes for her liking.

Far from wanting to judge or  critique this book, I want to go back and try this formula again, this time I want to use my intuition, or change something in the levain or final hydration, check the percentages. It's all about feeling your way around baking, figuring it out.

Ibán Yarza

Not too long ago, I first started noticing hits from  La Memoria de pan, Te quedas cenar and El foro de pan. All coming from Spain, so I wondered who was behind all this wonderful bread blogging. Shortly after I became a member of El foro de pan, which by chance is also visited by no other then Dieter Buschmann and Dan Lepard.

 The creative and talented baker behind it was Ibán Yarza and I had no clue who he was?  It was then I started finding out about this bread revivalist, cyclist, fermentationist. Along with Javier Marca and others in the bread baking renaissance in Spain. A self taught baker,he is teaching at home and wherever he is needed, from Bilbao to Barcelona. Ibán can be found with kilo's of flour on his bike and sanwiches in hand, but most often he his folding dough. Passing on the message of good bread with passion. On his various blogs regarding food or bread you can see his dedication and appreciation for good things, bon vivant au bici! I can't wait for him to start something on cycling soon!

His latest project was the translation into Spanish,"The Handmade Loaf " by British bread guru Dan Lepard.

 

Ibán Yarza

Jeremy: It must be a great feeling translating Dan Lepard’s book THML. How did that project happen?

Ibán: It is just a dream come true. Translating my favorite bread book is something I’m really grateful for. I can’t remember how it actually happened. I met Dan Lepard first back in 2005, but the idea did not fully came to life until quite recently; then Leqtor books and The Glutton Club teamed up with the British publishing house to make it happen and everything happened very quickly. In fact, a translator always complains about the lack of time, and so do I.

Jeremy: Will you write your own book?

Ibán: I don’t think so. I think there are already very good bread books. The problem in Spain is that we have very little (and mostly poor) translations. But if you take the following books, knead them well and let them rise slowly, I don’t think I could add anything.

The handmade loaf, Dan Lepard
Bread, Jeffrey Hammelman
Bread making, T. DiMuzio
Surdegsbröd, Martin Johansson
Pains d’hier et d’aujourd’hui, M Barboff
English Bread, E. David
Bread Builders, Wing and Scott

Jeremy: What got you interested in bread?

Ibán: To be honest, I can hardly remember when or why. I guess I was seduced by the magic of sourdough, the idea of creating bread from scratch. I was unemployed, probably a bit bored, so I went wild and started fermenting!

Jeremy: Sourdough, yeast, what makes them so different? And which is better?

Ibán: Quite simply, flavor. I’d say when you bite into a good piece of sourdough bread you can feel there is a soul inside that dough, you can feel it is alive.

Jeremy: Fermenting is sort of like a Frankenstein thing, "It's alive!!!!"  What other things do you ferment besides bread?

Ibán: I love fermenting. I “milk” my kefir pot every morning, and after the Spanish Summer is gone, now is time for sauerkraut. I’ve got a big “sauerkrauttopf” full of good bubbling stuff right now and pickled gherkins. Next thing I want to try is kvass (a beverage made of fermented rye bread). I really like to discover home brewing, but I’m a bit put off by all the equipment involved (unlike baking or pickling).

Jeremy: What is the most satisfying in baking bread; building the levain, mixing, folding, shaping or baking?

Ibán: Building a levain is a life-changing experience. Mind you, I don’t have any children yet.

Jeremy: Did you always eat or like bread growing up?

Ibán: Funny enough, I don’t recall great bread as a child, or even the sense that I was a true bread lover.

Jeremy: Did your mother bake?

Ibán: Not at all. But now she does bake her weekly sourdough loaf.

Jeremy: What is your favourite flour?

Ibán: Rye. No matter whether it’s white or whole-meal. I remember a Estonian rye flour I bought in Tallinn some years ago. I will never forget the aroma I got the moment I mixed it with water.
Jeremy: Does bread have terroir or a local taste?

Ibán: Absolutely. Go try some German, Baltic or Russian bread, and you’ll instantly fall in love with those countries and the people who bake those loaves.

Jeremy: You've traveled a lot. Some of your flickr photos show you holding sandwiches in front of landscapes. Is it like a “gracias” to the bread gods?

Ibán: Haha. When trekking I do like to make “offerings” to the places I visit. By this pagan/bread-esque offering I somehow summon all the energy of the place. Well, I said “somehow.”

Jeremy: Have you ever considered just opening a bakery? Going pro?

Ibán: Not really, I’m a home baker teaching home bakers and trying to spread the word of bread as widely as possible. I’ve visited many bakeries and seen their work. It’s something I could do, but I don’t think I’m interested enough.

Jeremy: Do you buy from bakeries anymore? Or just eat your own bread?

Ibán: Since 2005 I just buy bread out of pleasure, say to try this or that bakery when I’m told they’re worth it.

Jeremy: What is a spekulas sandwich? And what other sorts of combinations do you like with your bread?

Ibán: Ah, that’s a good one. Back in 1998 I spend some time working in a hotel in Amsterdam. The guy next door (a funny guy named Bas who played the trumpet and roller skated in the middle of the night to the hospital where he worked as an emergency anesthetist) told me about it. First I thought he was joking, but then I checked with other Dutch people to find he wasn’t kidding. I did try it and it was gorgeous. The spekulaas (spekulatius/speculoos for German/French/Belgian) is a crunchy biscuit, and just makes for a mind blowing experience when encased in two slices of fluffy white bread with plenty of butter. Do try it, believe me.

Jeremy: Who inspires you?

Ibán: People who are passionate and can see beyond flour and ferments. People who can see love inside a loaf of bread, like Dan Lepard. I’ve read a bunch of books about bread and met many bakers, but many speak solely about ingredients and crispy crusts; lately I’ve become a fan of the Swedish Martin Johansson (from the blog Pain de Martin) and the way he calls himself a “home baker”, hemmabagare.

Jeremy: Is Spain ready for the bread baking revival?

Ibán: I don’t actually mind if it’s ready or not (probably yes, provided it’s spread the right way), I simply think it NEEDS it!

Jeremy: Some people can teach bread. Personally, I am terrible at explaining it to people!) What is your secret?

Ibán: Well, I spent 5 years working as a guide at the Guggenheim Bilbao museum of contemporary art. After explaining abstract art for 1.5 hours to people from all over the world, everything else seems piece of cake.

Jeremy: How is the bread revival in Spain getting on?

Ibán: Really well, there’s more and more people baking, and good bread is getting more time and space in the news. Now we have to concentrate, otherwise we risk this becoming simply a trend or (worse) becoming something exclusive and reachable only by an elite.

 Jeremy: How are professional Spanish bakers taking to your teaching bread to the masses?

Ibán: I teach mostly to home bakers, although it’s not unusual to have pros on my classes; people who come are really nice and interested. I know of many bakers who see all this with suspicion. But I think we all better start to think that people just want better bread, and they will get it, whether from their bakers or their own ovens.

Jeremy: Is there a typical loaf in Spain?

Ibán: Spain is a big country when it comes to food, so the choice is big. Although it’s sad to realize that nowadays it’s becoming harder and harder to buy good bread in Spain. From the Pan de Cea in the Northwestern region of Galicia (a round plump loaf made the old way), to the many varieties of “pan sobado/bregado/candeal”, a sort of white loaf with a tight white crumb not unlike the French “pain brié” that can be found in central Spain, or the “pa de pagès” (country bread) from Catalonia, the little and soft “mollete” from Andalucia, or even the rustic and sturdy corn breads made traditionally in Northern Spain.

Jeremy: How do you keep all your projects going, El foro del Pan,Te quedas a cenar, La memoria del pan? Etc...and bicycling across Spain?

Ibán: Well, at the moment I have plenty of time (plus I don’t sleep much); but my idea is to launch nice projects, like “El foro del pan”, that can eventually live on their own without my input.

Jeremy: Bicycles and bread bakers, is it a zen thing? What is the correlation?

Ibán: More and more I do believe there is an inner relation between bike riding and bread baking. More specifically between sourdough baking and single speeding (or even riding fixed gear); the feeling of throwing away years of evolution to concentrate on the pure, simple pleasure. Also the sense of time, duration. Then if you build your own wheels I think everything somehow comes together. Oddly enough, I’ve met a bunch of people who seem to share the same feeling.