Every Spring I begin waking up at the five o’clock hour. It could be the earlier rising sun or the joy of being out of the gloom of winter. But I believe it has more to do with my mind and body anticipating life on the schooner, lighting the wood stove at 4:30 to begin a long and adventurous day of sailing and cooking.
This is also when the dreams begin. Feeling like a dog running in its sleep, I dream of pork roasts refusing to temp beyond 105 degrees, of mountains of over-proofed dough sticking and deflating all around me, and sauces curdling while my back is turned from the stove. Cooking nightmares rank among the worst dreams I’ve had, and ones about the schooner always reflect my real life fears.
Trying a new menu or recipe on the schooner has its limitations and drawbacks. The first is that there are a finite amount of provisions. Due to humidity and space constraints, I don’t really want to carry an extra twenty-five pound bag of flour on board. Rowing out to the store is not always an option. Secondly, if I try something new and it just doesn’t come together, a meal may be short one course that night. So last summer when I considered making croissants before breakfast, images of exploding buttery dough followed by sad sailor faces haunted my imagination. I also have a tendency to stray from a baking recipe, even on my first go around. Those of you who remember the great sourdough starter disaster of 2004, I am sure you can relate. The following experiment may be as much about practicing self control as it is scientific.
I haven’t made croissants since “laminated dough day” in culinary school. Anyone who has made this dough from scratch can surely relate to my hesitation of attempting it in a hot, pitching galley with few controllable variables. If I can practice working with the dough at home while simulating less than ideal conditions, then perhaps I’ll feel confident enough to make some buttery flaky pastries for our guests this summer.
Step one: find a recipe that fits with my cooking style. That part was easy. Tartine, a pastry book by a couple* who own a San Francisco bakery and cafe, has a straight forward but detailed recipe using quality ingredients and allowing time to maximize flavor development.
Step two: using the scientific method, establish a control group and a series of experimental groups.** The control group involves using a fully functioning refrigerator, freezer, and oven that operate at exact temperatures, using the conditions specified in the recipe. The experimental groups involve varying temperature and time conditions, from an oven that won’t heat above 350 (those rainy mornings can be a drag), to rolling out the dough in a 90 degree prep space (still not sure how I am going to simulate this condition), and chilling without the use of a freezer. And then...? Am I supposed to fix those problems? We will have to see how they turn out, and then figure out how to compensate to yield more consistent results. Other variables, such as putting shims under the legs of one side of my prep table to simulate heeling over, may just have to wait.
Step three: gather ingredients, turn on music (this is called negative control, having no effect on the result, at least I assume so), and apron up.
Because I only have one kitchen and a single set of equipment, I must perform my control group first, with the successive experimental groups in the following days or weeks. The side benefit is enjoying (hopefully) perfect croissants first. Then oddballs to follow.
This is also when the dreams begin. Feeling like a dog running in its sleep, I dream of pork roasts refusing to temp beyond 105 degrees, of mountains of over-proofed dough sticking and deflating all around me, and sauces curdling while my back is turned from the stove. Cooking nightmares rank among the worst dreams I’ve had, and ones about the schooner always reflect my real life fears.
Trying a new menu or recipe on the schooner has its limitations and drawbacks. The first is that there are a finite amount of provisions. Due to humidity and space constraints, I don’t really want to carry an extra twenty-five pound bag of flour on board. Rowing out to the store is not always an option. Secondly, if I try something new and it just doesn’t come together, a meal may be short one course that night. So last summer when I considered making croissants before breakfast, images of exploding buttery dough followed by sad sailor faces haunted my imagination. I also have a tendency to stray from a baking recipe, even on my first go around. Those of you who remember the great sourdough starter disaster of 2004, I am sure you can relate. The following experiment may be as much about practicing self control as it is scientific.
I haven’t made croissants since “laminated dough day” in culinary school. Anyone who has made this dough from scratch can surely relate to my hesitation of attempting it in a hot, pitching galley with few controllable variables. If I can practice working with the dough at home while simulating less than ideal conditions, then perhaps I’ll feel confident enough to make some buttery flaky pastries for our guests this summer.
Step one: find a recipe that fits with my cooking style. That part was easy. Tartine, a pastry book by a couple* who own a San Francisco bakery and cafe, has a straight forward but detailed recipe using quality ingredients and allowing time to maximize flavor development.
Step two: using the scientific method, establish a control group and a series of experimental groups.** The control group involves using a fully functioning refrigerator, freezer, and oven that operate at exact temperatures, using the conditions specified in the recipe. The experimental groups involve varying temperature and time conditions, from an oven that won’t heat above 350 (those rainy mornings can be a drag), to rolling out the dough in a 90 degree prep space (still not sure how I am going to simulate this condition), and chilling without the use of a freezer. And then...? Am I supposed to fix those problems? We will have to see how they turn out, and then figure out how to compensate to yield more consistent results. Other variables, such as putting shims under the legs of one side of my prep table to simulate heeling over, may just have to wait.
Step three: gather ingredients, turn on music (this is called negative control, having no effect on the result, at least I assume so), and apron up.
Because I only have one kitchen and a single set of equipment, I must perform my control group first, with the successive experimental groups in the following days or weeks. The side benefit is enjoying (hopefully) perfect croissants first. Then oddballs to follow.
Without going into too much detail, the basic idea behind laminated dough, or puff pastry, is a base dough slightly sweetened and with a long slow ferment rolled with many layers of butter. The layers of fat combined with added yeast make for a high rise of flaky buttery baked layers of pastry. This particular recipe has me fold the dough like an envelope (two folds, making three layers) four times. Anyone want to venture a guess as to how many layers that makes? (and yes Dad, the answer is an odd number)
What happened with the control group:
What happened with the control group:
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| Rolling out detrempe (that is the base dough, and this is the easy part) |
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| Spreading butter over 2/3 of the rolled out dough |
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| The second envelope fold, butter fully enclosed |
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| After the third fold |
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| After four folds and an overnight to rise, cutting to form croissants |
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| Rolling croissants, remember to stretch the tail as I roll |
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| Long and slow rise |
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| Baked and cooled just enough to.... |
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| Eat! With truffle honey and soft ripe cheese |
*By Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson, owners of Tartine Bakery
**I would like to say here that my Dad should be proud. He always inspires the little scientist in me. Also, I expect his full critique when my research is complete, requested or not.
Can I have a Jaimy with my croissants, too?
ReplyDeleteAlso love that you have multiple aprons for multiple days. Very kitchenista of you...
Wearing my Gram's aprons... all of the fancy new ones just don't deliver. Hers bring good luck in baking. (and yes, Jaimy comes with your croissant, you need a little sweet to balance out the butter)
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