Author: Mitch

Two Ways to Shape a Batard

Bookmarking this for future reference. The video is by Maurizio of The Perfect Loaf.

I now realize there wasn’t necessarily a single cause behind the somewhat flatter loaf which came out of the oven the other day. I assumed it was over-fermentation or over-proofing. The higher hydration (wetter dough) was likely a factor too. Or perhaps the sole factor.

The video contains two demonstrations.

The slacker dough can be caused by overfermentation, minimal or hand mixing, higher hydration, lower protein content in the flour, or some combination. It will require more extensive shaping (more motions) to get the dough “into shape, so that it holds its shape, from shape time all the way up to bake time.”

I’m now more interested in the shaping part of the process. In fact, my overall sourdough interest and skill level – or at least my interest in improving my skill – has recently expanded beyond the “everything in the pyrex bowl” approach I’ve been coasting with for the past four years, since I got started with sourdough. Following Maurizio’s suggestion to keep a notebook has been more helpful and inspiring than I would have predicted.

How to Write a Book Review

An old childhood memory surfaced recently.

High school English – sophomore year – a writing assignment: Read a book of your own choosing. Then write a book review in the style of the New York Times Book Review.

From what I recall, there was little to no discussion, analysis or presentation of what goes into any book review, much less a New York Times Book Review review. This was several decades ago.

As a self-identifying smart high school student, I somehow concluded, without giving it much thought, that I could wing it because my family got the Sunday edition of the New York Times (wherein one could find the Book Review). Did I conduct my own analysis? Demand the teacher provide a breakdown of the basics, with some examples? No. That never occurred to me.

On the other hand, my teacher, a taciturn Yankee with silvery hair, piercing blue eyes, middle-aged jowls, and a wardrobe of heavy flannel winter overshirts, was rumored to be a Harvard graduate. I guess he didn’t believe in actual teaching.

For the assignment, I chose some not very noteworthy science fiction book. I’ve long forgotten the title, plot, or any other details. Somehow I got a B on the paper. I didn’t learn a darn thing.

What brought this long-buried memory to the surface? YouTube. I’m a fan of Steve Donoghue’s “book tube” videos. I wasn’t searching for info on writing book reviews, but for some reason, The Algorithm fed me one of his older videos on that very subject.

Now, Steve Donoghue has spent a good portion of his professional life as a full-time book reviewer. He knows what he’s talking about. He is also a reading fanatic.

So there is the instruction manual I didn’t even realize I’d been subconsciously looking for all these years!

I might try my hand soon at book reviewing. It sounds like fun, and it would help complete the education I never got from that high school assignment.

Steve actually has two videos (maybe more?) on this topic. Two hidden gems on his ultra-prolific channel:

Poor Editing – Or Reading Too Literally?

I came across this instruction in a celebrated book on home bread baking:

To the autolyse, add about half of the water, the salt, and ripe levain.

Now, I’m neither a grammarian nor an expert baker.

But I’m left wondering. Am I being told to halve all three ingredients (the water, the salt, and the ripe levain)?

The answer is no. Which I eventually figured out by inference and reading the rest of the recipe.

Clear instructions are essential in a recipe book. The reader shouldn’t have to work that hard, but the editors of this book were apparently more concerned about having flashy layout and beautifully composed, dramatically lit photographs (including of the baker’s biceps).

For the greater good, I offer this revised sentence, free of charge, to any future edition of the book:

To the autolyse, add the salt, the ripe levain, and about half of the water.

I won’t name the book, because this is a very narrow rant, and I haven’t read much more of it than the one recipe. Maybe the rest is crystal clear. Maybe, but doubtful. We’ll see. Bah. Sourdough humbug.

A Prayer for Owen Meany

If you’re a fan of good fiction and good writing, you should read A Prayer For Owen Meany. I finished this wonderful John Irving novel (my first) only yesterday.

I wish I had a friend like Owen Meany to help me write a thesis about it, or at least an essay.

For now, here are a few quotes. The UPPER CASE convention for Owen’s quotes is something you won’t understand unless you’ve already read the book. Spoiler: It’s not meant to convey shouting.

IF YOU’RE LUCKY ENOUGH TO FIND A WAY OF LIFE YOU LOVE, YOU HAVE TO FIND THE COURAGE TO LIVE IT. – Page 512.

IT TAKES GUTS. AND FAITH. – Page 516.

Here is the novel’s famous opening sentence:

I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice – not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany.

That one beautiful sentence sets the tone, it introduces a major theme (faith), and it sets the stage for major features of the story yet to be told. The narrator’s dead mother; the implied death, at some point, of Owen Meany; and, of course, the narrator’s arrival at having faith. Faith, as you’ll see in the book, is sharply distinguished from religion, about which the novel contains much witty, humorous, and sometimes angry commentary, as seen through the eyes of John Wheelwright, the narrator, and the actions of several minor characters.

There is another central mystery of the book, but I’ll let you discover it for yourself. It’s revealed very early, but I don’t want to spoil anything.

This is one of those novels where you know ahead of time the major events of the story. You know what happens, but not how or why. Irving compels you to read for the details, the characters, and the telling, and of course, for the writing. And there are many small (and not so small) surprises along the way.

It was Owen Meany who taught me that any good book is always in motion. – Page 329.