Going Dutch

I have a fan oven. It's quite enthusiastic. It huffs and it puffs and it makes your bread brown. Dark brown, you know, the dark brown with lots of carbon in it. Even adjusted for fan-ness, at the right bread-making temperature my loaves were all turning out darker than I wanted. I was also finding that my loaves lacked in the oven spring department because introducing baking stones (well, granite chopping boards) had necessitated a rearrangement of oven shelves which meant that there was no room for a steam tray, and the quick-grab-the-spray-and squirt-through-teeny-gap-in-the-door-without-letting-too-much-heat-out approach never seemed to work brilliantly.

One option would be to buy a reconditioned rack oven and convert the garage into my own dream bakery. But, back on planet Earth, I looked for a slightly easier solution. I read about Dutch ovens - a cast iron casserole with a tight-fitting lid would create the steamy atmos I wanted, while at the same time ensuring an even heat distribution and protecting it from burning. I looked online for likely candidates, while Tallboy carefully measured inside the oven. I flirted for a while with this large specimen from Lakeland, but finally lit on this fine example from Ikea, and its friend.

I've been using them for a couple of months and I'm really pleased with the results. I put them into the oven before I turn it on, so that they heat up gradually. I decant the proved loaves from the banneton straight onto a piece of silicone liner, then drop this gently into the hot casserole, slamming the lid on quickly to keep in the heat and steam. I bake at my normal bread temperature (230° C, or rather 210° C in my oven) and leave the lids on for 20 or 25 minutes, then complete the bake topless, leaving the lids on the hob. This gives a lovely rise during the first session, and much better browning during the second. During my initial recuperation from the car accident when I couldn't lift, Tallboy and I got quite good at the ballet sequences involved in my opening the oven door and his removing/replacing the casseroles, but since his motorbike accident coincided with the return of my ability to lift things it's a solo effort nowadays.

Some observations about using a Dutch oven for baking bread:

• Maximum of two loaves at a time - I could do four direct on the baking stones.


• I made sure that the handles on the lids were cast iron too, rather than plastic which might not have been so happy at high bread-baking temperatures


• They get hot. I mean really hot. Seriously hot. So hot that I have hurt myself simply by touching the outside of the oven gloves I used to get them out of the oven.


• I haven't yet gone to pick up a discarded lid with bare hands to tidy it away while still searingly hot. But I fear that one day I will.


• They don't do so well if the loaf is small - it needs to take up a decent volume inside the casserole or it will pancake.


• I have found that the round one works best with my 500g round bannetons, and the oval one with my 1kg oval banneton.


• You can use baking parchment to decant the proved loaves onto but it chars after a few times in the oven.


• Having cast iron casseroles in your batterie de cuisine makes you feel strangely grown up.


• They have helped me produce loaves of which I'm really, really proud.


• Baked on flour residue makes for an attractive spotty finish on the lids. Or so I tell myself.


• The oval one is bigger than the round one. It won't fit on the bottom of the oven, no matter how many times you try.

Here are some pictures from some of today's batch (50% stoneground spelt, 50% strong white)

Silicone liner for decanting proved loaves


The big oval casserole


After twenty minutes - beautifully risen but pale as you like


After another fifteen or so minutes, now with crust


The smaller round casserole


After twenty minutes


At the end of the bake


Round loaf sitting up and looking pretty


Both loaves

Such a-peel

With a little windfall to spend on myself, where else would my thoughts wander than to some more breadmaking kit? I was desperate to try out some proving baskets, and felt a deep yearning for a lame of my very own. Mooching around the internet, I happened across this place and spent a long time building up a dream wishlist.

I had dropped a peel-related hint or two to Tallboy, and having made him read Richard Bertinet's books, he now knew what one was. In fact, I'd idly speculated about the possibility of fashioning one from a spot of plywood or similar, not detecting the gleam in his eye as he pondered the possibilities... One day the next week, he bounded home from work with a big grin, presenting me with a peel crafted at lunchtime with his own fair hands. It was brilliant. And wonderfully kind of him to make it for me. Except, well - there was just the one thing... I don't know if you've ever seen 'This is Spinal Tap', but there's a scene where the band are belting out a song called 'Stonehenge', the high point of which is supposed to be the lowering of a monster trilithon from the ceiling onto the stage, all massive and atmos and stuff. Due to a notational error, the structure is inches rather than feet high. I think I've painted enough of a picture here - I assured Tallboy that should I need to introduce bread rolls into the oven a pair at a time, his would be my peel of choice.

He did bound home one day the week after, with an even wider grin, flourishing the widest peel I've seen, again lovingly crafted from plywood during his lunch break. Accepting it with thanks and a wide grin of my own, my eyes flickered from it to the oven. 'It's ok!' he was quick to tell me, 'It fits!'

Being already so richly furnished with peels, you might think it a little greedy to contemplate another, but I saw such a magnificent aluminium one on the site that I simply couldn't resist it, reassuring a slightly crestfallen Tallboy that it was for purposes of comparison and bulk baking and not at all that his peel wasn't up to the task.

My wishlist all trimmed, expanded, trimmed again and finally decided on, I clicked and coughed up my card number and submitted and gleefully received an order confirmation. The next day I had a despatch confirmation, and the next morning the nice UPS man was handing me my parcel.

The peel is fabulous (as is Tallboy's, natch) and the proving baskets are superb. I was concerned that my sticky sticky dough would, er, stick - but a generous dusting of rye flour made it really easy to turn out my beautifully be-striped loaf. I got a couche too, and a lame, and some other stuff, but the baskets and the peel are most definitely the stars of the show. Trouble is, now I know how fab they are, I reckon I need some more baskets in different sizes...