THE WORLD'S GREATEST BREAD

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High-quality artisan breads are now everywhere. But which is the best? Christopher Hirst holds a 50-loaf tasting ...

From INTELLIGENT LIFE Magazine, Autumn 2010

For sheer satisfaction, no other culinary activity compares with making bread. The magical effect of the yeast or levain, the tactile contentment of kneading, the atavistic appeal of the baking aroma, the crusty result—all persuade you to make a regular habit of baking bread.

Unfortunately, this laudable activity also happens to be messy, time-consuming and far from failsafe. And why bother when it’s now possible to buy all kinds of artisan and specialist bread, of a quality the home-baker can’t hope to match? The professionals have better flour, more time, better equipment and vastly greater expertise.

To find the best among this new generation of breads, I brought home around 50 different loaves, some from independent bakers, others from bakery chains or supermarkets. I co-opted my regular Tasting Panel (TP), aka my wife, and we started munching. It is a tribute to the quality of all the entries that we retained our appetite for bread throughout the judging.

The first type of bread to come under our scrutiny were those big (around 30cm), round, sourdough loaves that are Europe’s latest pain de luxe. Four examples stood out. Before Le Pain Quotidien’s international operation reached London, I used to lug its magnificent Belgian sourdoughs back from the continent. We tried two variants: the slightly salty, paler type had a hint of sourness that made it outstanding as toast, while the dark-brown pain bis was more fruity in taste. We gave both 17 out of 20.

The high-domed, two-kilo, Shepherds Loaf sourdough from Hobbs House Bakery has the distinction of being Britain’s most expensive loaf, at an extraordinary £21 by mail order. Is it worth it? Up to a point. It certainly had a fresh, grassy smell and mouth-filling flavour—“it’s got a nice, almost beery taste,” said the TP, “and a lovely springy chewiness” (16/20).

Costing less than a third of that price, De Gustibus’s Six-Day Sourdough is made in Oxfordshire by a German baker, Dan Schickentanz. With a softer, more open texture than the Shepherds Loaf, it had the classic sourness of the style—and when toasted and buttered, it achieved, said the TP, the “miraculous combination” of being simultaneously crunchy and luscious (18/20). But best of all was Poilâne’s wood-baked Poilâne Loaf, made in Paris and London from a mixture of stoneground wheat and spelt. With a crunchy crust and dense texture, it offered satisfying flavours and a long aftertaste. “Completely delicious with a lovely woody smell—like an ancient windmill,” said the TP. In the view of many devotees, Poilâne bread achieves perfection as toast. But the TP noted a peculiarity of this delicacy: “It’s rather noisy. I can hear you crunching even when you’re in another room” (19/20).

The outstanding white bread in our sample was Hobbs House Wild White, made using a sourdough culture that the company has kept bubbling away for, it claims, “at least 55 years”. Open-textured and with a lovely, black-smudged base, it seemed the archetype of artisanal white bread. The TP thought its grey-cream interior must be supplied by Farrow & Ball, paintmakers to the British gentry. “It would be great with a ploughman’s lunch, but it’s also lovely when toasted,” she pondered, before adding, as only a spouse can: “I’d like to try it as cheese on toast—if anyone fancies making it” (18/20).

With a crisp crust and springy interior, Le Pain Quotidien’s baguette was outstanding, and far surpassed most British attempts at the form (17/20). The Charlemagne baguette from the French chain Paul, made with durum wheat, also scored highly. “A good chewiness with a complex taste, nicely balanced between salt and sweet,” said the TP (17/20). Another outstanding product from Paul was its version of the crunchy Provençal fougasse (from focus, Latin for hearth). Baked in the shape of a doughy lattice, it comes studded with bits of bacon, anchovy or olive. “A most successful speciality bread,” reckoned the TP. “All you need with it is a green salad” (16/20).

From the opposite extreme of Europe, the Swedish hällakaka (“Arctic bread”) sold frozen by ikea was a pleasant surprise. Made in Bredbyn, northern Sweden (yes, really), this is a circular flatbread with a bit of puffiness. Though mass-produced, it retains a handmade quality—soft but not floppy, it would be ideal for a Scandinavian open sandwich (15/20). And we discovered another outstanding flatbread in the pitta made by Sofra Bakery, in Tottenham, north London (25 Garman Road; + 44 (0)20 8493 1400). Light yet resilient, it’s marbled with carbonised striations and has far more character than any of the supermarket attempts at pitta (15/20).

Like sourdough, rye breads are enjoying an international renaissance. We tried a dozen or so varieties containing varying proportions of rye to wheat. De Gustibus’s Dark Bavarian 100% rye loaf was described by the TP as having “tons of character with a great rye taste. It would be fantastic with cheddar or gouda” (17/20).
Landgut, a 50% rye, 50% wheat pumpernickel made in Germany for Lidl supermarkets, was good too: “Moist, chewy, firm, with a tremendous concentrated flavour” (15/20). But the star performer among the ryes was another De Gustibus: its Black Forest 80% rye with sunflower seeds. “That tastes so good,” said a transported TP. “And you feel good eating it. I’m going to have another slice” (19/20).

That put it level-pegging with the Poilâne, so a nibble-off was required to decide the overall victor. It was a close thing, but for depth of flavour and consistency of texture—“the holes at the edges are the same size as the holes in the middle,” noted the TP—the Poilâne won, by a crumb.

...AND ONE TO BAKE YOURSELF
The best artisan breads are usually demanding to make at home, but there is one exception. With focaccia, you can match and even beat the professionals. When I first triumphed with this classic Italian loaf, I thought it was down to an innate genius for bread-making. Later I read the “River Cottage Handbook: Bread” (Bloomsbury) by Daniel Stevens: “Focaccia is quite forgiving…it can be under-kneaded and over-proved and you will still end up with bread you can be proud of.”

Professional focaccia has to be of modest size for both transport and sale, but the homemade version can be of more ambitious dimensions. It can also contain more olive oil than is commercially feasible. Studded with sprigs of rosemary, black olives and rings of red onion, my mammoth focaccia looks a bit like Hubble’s deep-space images of stars and nebulae. Coincidentally, it also tastes out of this world.

I use the recipe in Katie Caldesi’s “The Italian Cookery Course” (Kyle Cathie), which comes up trumps every time. In a large bowl mix together 500g of strong or “00” white flour with two level teaspoons of salt. Mix well with 15g of fresh yeast (or 7.5g of dried) thoroughly dissolved in 300ml tepid water and 2.5 tablespoons of olive oil. When the flour and liquid has amalgamated into dough, knead on a floured surface for 10 minutes until it has acquired elasticity and bounce. Form it into a ball and tip into an oiled bowl, turn to ensure the dough is coated with oil, then cover with a cloth or clingfilm and leave in a warm place for an hour until it has doubled in size.

Transfer the dough to an oiled baking tray and spread with your palms into a large oval about 3cm deep. Poke with your fingers to make indentations (an enjoyable process). Drizzle with olive oil and embed thin slices of red onion, black olives and rosemary sprigs. Allow dough to rise again for 40 minutes before transferring to the oven, pre-heated to 220°C. Bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack. Eat in finger-width slices until you’re full, or the focaccia has vanished—whichever comes first.

(Christopher Hirst used to be the Weasel in the Independent. His last piece for More Intelligent Life was a tribute to Rose Gray.)

Picture Montage: Meeson