Sentimental farewell

Although I’ve been procrastinating and putting off the inevitable, the time has finally arrived for me to bid farewell to The Pot Kiln, and consequently my online baking alias. The last few months have been a formative time for me, from the disastrous courgette bread of my first day, to customers asking to buy individual loaves to take away; from balking at the deer carcasses staring blankly out of the fridge, to proudly purchasing my own boning knife. Before I began I had no style of my own to speak of, but out of the garden and the expansive countryside and the response from the restaurant, I now have a much clearer idea. In the surroundings of The Pot Kiln I have been on a continuous learning curve, not from having chefs breathing critically over my shoulder, but from being given freedom to experiment. As far as my baking is concerned, the mere fact that I’ve been able to practice the process everyday will I know be invaluable. I am pleased to say that the task never remotely strayed into chore-territory. Bounding in each morning in anticipation of how my tea towel-shrouded sourdough has fared overnight, or standing by the glass-fronted oven watching it rise majestically in the first blasts of heat, is something I will miss greatly.

I would like to thank all the staff at the Pot Kiln for making my time there such a positive experience: in particular to Katie and Mike for taking a gamble and employing a relative novice. Thanks also to head chef Phil, for not only allowing me access to his magical camera, but for not screaming too loudly as I danced around five minutes before service, frantically trying to photograph bread destined for the board. I know that whatever I do now I have to work with food. I will continue to have flour on my clothes and dough under my fingernails. I will be watching the seasons and the hedgerows. I will be writing ideas in my shark-patterned notebook and taking cookbooks on train journeys.

This is the Pot Kiln Baker, signing off.

Pearl Barley and Rye Baguettes

Makes 4

Pearl barley is one of my favourite winter ingredients, evoking heartening images of steaming stews with dumpling clouds. It is also a frugal way to add body to a loaf, which is why the initial cooking stage in this recipe may seem optimistic: I like the individual milky grains to still be identifiable. The high proportion of rye ensures this is a dense, robust loaf, and makes kneading less crucial as the gluten content is reduced. I would want this with a coarse terrine, or buttered with slivers of smoked salmon.

500ml water

200g pearl barley

200ml soaking liquid of your choice (orange juice, apple juice, beer, wine etc.)

1kg rye flour

750g strong white flour

250g wholemeal flour

6 tsp sea salt

400g rye leaven

1 ltr water at room temperature

To cook the pearl barley, place it with the water in a pan and bring to the boil. Simmer for around 25 minutes until cooked through and all the liquid has been absorbed. Pour over the soaking liquid (I used white wine as there was some lying around), and leave until cool, or overnight if possible. When the barley is ready, combine the flours and salt in a large bowl. Whisk together the leaven, room temperature water, barley grains and soaking liquor. Pour this mixture onto the dry ingredients and roughly combine. Leave for 10 minutes. Turn the mix out onto a lightly oiled surface and knead briefly until it comes together as dough. Cover and leave for 10 minutes, then knead again briefly. Repeat. Cover and leave for half an hour, then knead again. Cover and leave for a couple of hours. Because of the high proportion of rye in this dough, it will be fairly difficult to knead, but should eventually become smoother in appearance. After a couple of hours, divide the dough into four equal pieces. On a sparsely floured surface, shape each one into a ball. Flatten slightly, fold the top edge down to the centre, and the bottom edge up to meet it. Roll into a long, even cylinders around 2 inches in diameter. Now take a large roasting tin and two heavily floured tea towels. Lay one on the base of the tin, with the edge of the towel curling up the side. Nestle one baguette on the towel along the length of the tin, and pull up the tea towel on the other side so it is surrounded, except on top. Place another loaf the other side of this crease, and pull the tea towel up snugly on the other side. Repeat with the other towel and two loaves, so it should look like the photograph below. This means as they prove overnight they are doing so up against each other which allows them to keep their shape and expand evenly. Place a last damp tea towel over the top, and tuck them away for the night.

In the morning, one by one carefully turn out the baguettes onto semolina dusted trays. Slash with a sharp knife and leave for 10 minutes. Place in a preheated oven at 200˚c for around 40 to 50 minutes. Leave to cool before slicing.

Hazelnut and Vanilla Biscotti

Makes 100

I’m going to go out on a limb and declare this recipe foolproof. It’s also very adaptable; feel free to change the nuts, add chocolate or orange zest. Biscotti has so much in its favour: easy to make in bulk, it contains no added fat and retains its crunch for weeks. If this quantity seems a little daunting or unnecessary, I’ve found the dough is quite happy to sit in the fridge for up to 3 days, to be baked off when required. Just handle the cold dough with wet hands to make life easier. Needless to say, these are the perfect accompaniment to coffee, either after or instead of dessert.

500g plain flour

500g golden caster sugar

500g whole hazelnuts

1tbsp baking powder

2 tsp vanilla extract

5 eggs, beaten

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Beat the vanilla into the eggs, and add to the dry mix. Stir, either with spoon or hand, until the mixture forms a dough. It may seem too dry, but resist the temptation to add any extra liquid; all of a sudden it will come together. Divide the mixture into six, and on a lightly floured surface roll each piece into a cylinder of 1 inch diameter. Place in pairs on parchment-lined baking trays, very well spaced out as they will spread. Bake at 180˚c for around 15 minutes, until and even golden brown. Remove from the oven and reduce the temperature to 100˚c. Leave the dough splodges to cool and firm up for at least another 15 minutes before transferring to a chopping board. With a serrated knife, cut slices on the diagonal of around ½ a cm, and place the slices back on to the trays, cut side up. Return to the oven for around an hour, until the biscuits are crisp and deep brown. If you feel the inclination, you can turn the biscotti over half way through this cooking time, but it is not essential.