This form allows you to calculate the amount of flour and water needed to make bread doughs at various percentages you choose. Please refer to the bread math post for a detailed discussion of why and how I got here.

If you are planning to use a starter, for Starter Mass enter the amount of starter you want to use and for Starter % the percentage of water (refer to Bread Math for explanation of baker’s percentage). If you aren’t planning to use starter, leave Starter Mass blank or enter 0. The final dough mass is the amount of bread you want to have; most loaves of bread I have seen seem to fall between 1 and 2 pounds. Dough % is the percentage of hydration of the final dough. This is where the fun comes in!  Try playing with various amounts and see what a huge difference it makes on the crumb of your bread. Remember, there is  no magic bread ratio but rather the ratio is the key to determining the kind of bread.

Example: Here’s my standard loaf of bread, and how I used these calculations to arrive at it. Because of the size of my oven and my household’s bread needs, I know I want to bake three 1.5# loaves of bread. This means I will need 4.5# of Final Dough Mass, which is 72 oz (16oz/lb * 4.5lb = 72 oz). I also make bread with a natural yeast starter. Whenever I refresh my starter, I add equal masses of water and flour, so I know my starter’s percentage is 100%. The Starter Mass I use varies depending on how much starter I have around, but I usually pick 8 oz. I have yet to determine the effects of drastic variations in starter use. With my Starter Mass, Starter % and Final Dough Mass decided, it’s just a matter of deciding on the Dough %. Although I continue to tweak this, I have had a lot of success with dough at 68% hydration, so I’ll enter that and hit calculate. The calculator tells me that my final dough will require 38.86 oz of flour and 25.14 oz of water. My scale’s smallest unit is 1/8 oz so we’ll call that 38 7/8 oz and 25 1/8 oz. So, in the kitchen, I measure my starter into the bowl, then cover it with 39 oz of flour and 25 oz of water. I also add salt. Salt can be factored into this calculation as a percentage of flour (bakers do this) but my scale is not accurate enough to measure this little salt so I always just wing it. I usually add about a Tablespoon to 4.5# of dough. With the salt added, you’re ready to mix, knead and otherwise proceed as normal.

Note that this form is unit agnostic, you can use grams or ounces or metric tons. Percentages should be in the 0-100 format, although you can go above 100%. Don’t type in any units or symbols, it will confuse the calculator!

Have fun! Bake bread!

While watching my alma mater make it into the national championship I was enjoying a treat inspired by many a dinner in Case Hall: Spartan Sausage Bread. It is just regular sausage bread but prepared in a Michigan State cafeteria, or in this case, by a Michigan State fan and alumnus. I’d like to think my making this bread contributed in no small way to tonight’s win, so in the interest of the national championship I wanted to make sure everyone has the recipe for Monday.

Start with a Midwestern-American style pizza dough; I used Peter Reinhart’s from American Pie. Mix together:

• 11 1/4 oz flour
• 1 1/2 T honey
• 1 t salt
• 1 t instant yeast
• 1/8 c vegetable oil
• 1/2 c 2% milk
• 3 oz water

Stir/knead everything together for a few minutes. Allow to rest for five minutes and then knead another two. Divide into two equal balls, place in oiled bags, and refrigerate for as long as possible. You need to have them back on the counter and rising two hours before you want to bake them.

When the dough is ready, pat and roll it out into a large rectangle if you can manage it, but probably more like an oval.

Cover it with 1/2# of your favorite Italian sausage, browned, and shredded cheese (either your favorite cheese or whatever happened to be skulking in the back of your freezer).

At this point, it’s ready to roll. You might want to use a bench scraper to avoid tearing the dough as you roll it into a loaf. When you have done this with both dough balls, hopefully you intuited that you need to have a 375° oven roaring. 

Because this was the Final Four, I decided to get fancy and brush both loaves with egg wash then sprinkle them with salt before baking them for 40 minutes. They came out deep brown:

Now your excitement will be palpable, but they still need to cool. Luckily, a riveting first half kept me glued to the TV so that by the time half time rolled around, my delicious snack was ready.

Go Green! Go White!

I’m not a fan of the lazy bread movement. All the no-knead breads that are so in vogue right now for me miss the basic fun of breadmaking, not to mention the satisfaction. I enjoy taking the time to plan my bread formula, mix the ingredients, knead the dough, allow the dough to rise for as long as it needs and to bake the bread in a pre-heated hearth set up. Using natural yeast only prolongs this process. But it also makes the final bread feel more like your own.

Good bread takes time. It can take up to three days from start to finish to make a loaf of my standard wild-yeast bread, from refreshing the starter to waiting for the yeast to decide to rise to finally getting the loaves out of the oven. That’s fine if you’ve planned ahead, but what happens when it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and you need bread that night? Even No-Knead bread uses an overnight rest in the refrigerator to develop gluten. Some people might reasonably say, “you go buy some,” but I have managed to develop a pretty strong guilt complex about buying bread. Instead, inspired by this post at The Paupered Chef (via Serious Eats) I decided to test the limits of lazy, carefree bread with focaccia in less than three hours.

Focaccia is a rustic bread, which means it should be made from very wet dough. My target hydration was 80% and I wanted to use 16 oz of flour, so I was looking for 12.8 oz of water, which I rounded to 12 3/4 oz due to limitations of my scale. After whisking my pound of flour with about a teaspoon and a half of salt and two teaspoons of instant yeast, I added in my water and stirred to combine. The dough looked like this:

At this point the dough would probably have benefited from some kneading. This could easily be done in a stand mixer (as in the Cook’s Illustrated ciabatta recipe) or, less easily, by stirring with a strong arm. But since I was shooting for lazy I left it like that, covered the bowl and put it in the oven, where I figured the pilot light would give my best chance of a rapid rise. I headed to the store to get the rest of dinner.

The oven rising worked wonderfully; in about an hour the dough looked ready to pan. I spread a thick layer of olive oil in a smallish sheet pan and pressed the dough out. At this point, it was behaving like any other dough, albeit a very wet one.

After about another hour the dough was looking bubbly and puffy, like focaccia should. I had already preheated my oven to 450° with my stone in place. For toppings, I decided to follow the Paupered Chef and use parsley, as well as sea salt and a lot of olive oil.

After 25 minutes in the oven (about two and a half hours since I began the project) it was golden brown and crispy. I let it cool for a half hour and then it was ready to slice and eat.

How was it? Well, definitely not bad. All the olive oil I used ensured that it had a crunchy, crackly crust as well as big flavor. The texture was pretty solid but not as chewy as I would have liked. This was pretty obviously going to happen since it was never kneaded nor really allowed to rest; the gluten never stood a chance. You can see the lack of gluten development in the crumb, which is extremely tight for such a wet dough. If I had kneaded or rested this more, there would be the nice big holes that I like so well. But I just didn’t have enough time to make this bread perfectly, and for three hours from flour to mouth on a lazy Sunday, I’ll take it.

Making crackers is frustrating. In fact, making anything with a rolling pin is pretty damn vexing, but crackers especially so. Good crackers require two things: really thin dough and perfectly uniform dough. The thinness helps make crackers crispy, rather than chewy or, worse, brick-like (tooth-shattering). The uniformity of the dough is related: thin crackers will burn to a cinder while their thick brethren are slowly baking into breadish mediocrity. If there’s any saving grace to bad crackers its that you didn’t spend much time making them, but that’s hardly a consolation.

I am fairly experienced with rolling pins since I make a lot of flattened breads, but  I have never liked using them. It seems like my pin is always getting stuck to the dough, tearing it and ruining my shape. I also find it difficult to roll to a consistent thickness, especially when rolling very thin. I know you can buy little rings to attach to the end of your rolling pin that help control thickness but they sound like more trouble than they’re worth. And why use a rolling pin at all, when we have our friend, Signore Norpro:

Pasta has many of the same requirements as crackers in terms of shaping, so a pasta machine is a natural for making crackers. My working dough recipe is the Lavash Crackers from Peter Reinhart’s The Bread Baker’s Apprentice, consisting of:

• 6 3/4 oz AP Flour
• 1/2 t salt
• 1/2 t instant yeast
• 1 T honey (I am just reporting this for accuracy’s sake; I omitted the honey)
• 1 T veg oil
• 3-4 oz water

Very simple. After all, it’s just bread! To make the dough, you proceed as you might imagine, mixing all the ingredients and kneading until the texture is right. Then let the dough rest so the gluten can relax. And you can relax too.

After an hour or less of resting I used my handy-dandy pasta machine to lay down a silkysmooth sheet.

I then divided each sheet into large rectangles then covered them with toppings before sliding them onto my pizza stone in a 400° oven. A lesson I learned with the first batch was that you have to remember to dock the dough (prick it all over with a fork), lest you get this:

Not that puffy crackers are a bad thing, but a one-ply cracker is almost too thin. For the next batches I almost always remembered to dock, whick gave a much more uniformly flat look.

Still pretty big sheets. To actually eat them, I used a knife to break the crackers into chaotic shards. I ended up with quite a few varieties. Here’s a family photo:

Top row from left to right: Vindaloo, Sea Salt, Chili Powder, Aleppo Pepper. Bottom row: seeds,  sesame-soy, garlic-dill.

Besides the lesson about docking above, I learned two things about dealing with toppings. For these crackers I rolled out the dough unflavored and then sprinkled the toppings on before baking. This resulted in toppings that weren’t very well integrated into the dough. In the case of the seeded cracker this meant my carefully placed caraway, poppy, nigella, and sesame seeds almost all rolled off the cracker during the cracking process, never to be tasted and enjoyed. Next time I will try to integrate the flavorings into the dough before rolling.

The other lesson is one about salt: you need a lot of it. Salt is the reason we can taste other flavors; in this batch of crackers the most flavorful ones were dill-garlic, loaded with garlic salt, and the soy sesame, soy sauce having plenty of sodium. The vindaloo and chili-pepper crackers had very subtle flavors since I failed to add salt with the spices.

I am excited to make crackers again. The pasta machine really took the effort out of rolling them, and they can be thrown together very quickly as a result of not really needing to rise. I have a lot of ideas for other flavorings to try, especially if the flavorings can be integrated into the dough. I also want to play with other flours and incorporate some whole grains.

The biggest problem with my last attempt to make the ciabatta recipe in the latest Cook’s Illustrated was that the dough was so wet that it was too hard to work with; more trouble than it was worth. This was mostly my fault since, not owning a stand mixer, I followed Peter Reinhart’s standard mixing style of a hand continuously dipped in water operating like a dough hook. The water prevents the dough from sticking to your hand but it also gets added to the dough, throwing off the water ratio.

This time I avoided adding water at all costs. I still don’t have a stand mixer but I decided a metal spoon and my bulging biceps could take care of the mixing. I ambitiously set my timer for ten minutes and started stirring. After six minutes had passed my arm told me it was time to stop. The dough was looking pretty good, not so sloppy looking as last time. I let it rise, folding it over itself twice at half-hour intervals.

Shaping the dough this time was easier; even though I know my gluten development was not what it would have been with a stand mixer, the dough was still springy enough to be easily shaped. Plenty of flour was still a must, but during shaping the dough more or less stayed where I put it.

The result was a bread that was almost identical to the last one, but a bit less of a hassle to make. This consistency is a testament to the quality of Cook’s Illustrated’s recipe development process. Check out the crumb:

Because of its chewy, substantial texture this is a great bread for sandwiches. I used my first loaf for a BET: Basil, Eggplant and Tomato, with melted provolone.