The Starter 50+ Cycler Part 2 - Nerves, Nerves, Nerves

Ok, so now I know how to ride a bike. Except I don't. Riding a bike has an awful lot to do with confidence, of which I don't have in abundance.

I can ride along a straight piece of road where there is no other traffic, no lumps and bumps, no bends and corners, no slopes and no junctions. I can also stop well. I have in fact, intimate knowledge of my brakes because I use them so much. I find hills frightening, turning bends interesting and riding at anything other than a leisurely pace sweat inducing (and not because of the exercise!).

I can only assume at this point that you're muttering under your breath 'it all takes time, stupid'. Yes, I know that. Never having done anything like this before, I do realise that experience is key and that I have to keep going at it.

So, Alan buys a bike rack and we go off to Exceat and I ride in Friston Forest. It is very enjoyable, but I do realise, and not for the first time, that having your husband teach you to ride a bike is like him teaching you to drive a car - if you're not careful,rows ensue. He is an experienced bike rider who has done it since he was a boy; so he get very frustrated that I don't just 'get it' and ride off into the wide blue yonder. So Friston Forest, although reasonably successful has raised other things that concern me, like deep mud ruts, grassy hills and a complicated rack which I would have difficulty using myself.

So what's a girl to do?

The Starter 50+ Cycler Part 1 - Learning to Ride a Bike In Your Over Fifties

It's not just in the home with my sourdough that I have had the urge to do something different. As my health started to improve in 2011, I expressed a wish to learn to ride a bike, something I had never done as a child  (I am now in my 50's). My husband, who used to cycle to work everyday, encouraged me to purchase a bike so that I could learn. So a bought a cheap, but new mountain bike. I don't think he anticipated that it would not be that easy - traumatic not just for me, but for him also.

At first, every time I went to push the pedal with my left foot, my right foot would decide, as if by magic, to plant itself on the ground and stay there. Nothing would move it. It was glued in position! I then found out, after numerous tries that, in order to move at all, you quite literally have to take a step of faith, push your feet down on their respective pedals, look straight ahead, believing that I would stay upright and move forward.

This worked for about 5 seconds to start off with. Then I would realise that I was actually moving and panic, swerving and going off balance. Then we would go back to the beginning.

All this was taking place in our patio area in the back garden - not a large area, about 20 foot wide. At one point, because I was making such a mess of things, I began to laugh. Mistake - I completely lost any concentration I had had and fell, grazing my knee and annoying my husband, who felt I wasn't taking it at all seriously.

As I slowly improved, it was decided that I ride up the road, to the interest and amusement of my neighbours. A white knuckle ride indeed. But the icing on the cake was when Alan (my husband) tried to teach me how to go round in circles on an area of grass just up the road from where we live.

Grass does have a different feel than tarmac. There I was trying to concentrate on that, as well as trying to turn as well as keeping my momentum up, then disaster struck! I lost balance and completed a commendable belly flop, landing on my face in the grass. Our post lady, who was cycling past at the time, came rushing over to see if I was alright, but I was fine, just a sad case of bruised pride.

Slowly, and surely I began to get the 'feel' of the bike. Apart from a wiggle as I started to move off, I was steady. Braking wasn't a problem. It seemed to me I was braking more than pedalling. And when I said to Alan that there was such a lot to think about, he would look at me in bewilderment. 'After all,' he said, 'there is nothing to riding a bike.'

I do think that learning to ride when you reach a certain age is a little different to when you are a child. As an adult, you know what can go wrong. Broken bones do matter and pride can be such an issue. And all this is going through my mind as I am learning to ride.

So, 18 months ago, I actually learnt how to ride a bike. It didn't go any further. I didn't have the confidence to go out on the roads where we lived because a) we live on a slope; b) it is on a bus route and c) there are a lot of cars parked on the road. But I knew, that having got this far, I was going to have to take it further and get more experienced. More on my next posting.

Living Sourdough - Part 2

The continuing story of my sourdough bread-making efforts:-

Day 4

I am alarmed to see that the mixture has fluid on top. This I had seen before in my previous mixes, which never seemed to come to anything. Going back to Paul Hollywood’s recipe, he says that this is because the yeast is over-active and that more flour should be added. As he doesn't say how much, I added four dessert spoons of flour, which made the mix a bit thicker. I decided to leave it until tomorrow before adding any more, if I need to.

Day 5

Small bubbles can be seen in the mix itself, but there is still a thin layer of fluid at the top of the starter. Two more heaped dessert spoons of flour were put in and the mixture stirred well. It is definitely a lot thicker. Some hours later, in the evening I checked the level of the starter against the marker and it has risen and the mixture is bubbling away. Will leave it now until day seven before halving the mix and adding more flour and water. Then, you never know but it might be ready for use by day nine.

Day 7

The starter mix is still looking good, so, as per instructions, half of the mix is thrown away and more flour and water added. I had decided to pour the other half into a large bowl so that the flour and water can properly be mixed in. Also, I thought I would give the jar a clean. I'm holding my breath while doing it in case, for some reason, it kills the dough. It is funny that in all the recipes on making sourdough, they make no mention as to when the contain that contains the starter dough is to be cleaned. I have visions of a gloopy growth on the jar going progressively a manky grey colour.

The jar is carefully rinsed and dried before the mixed starter is returned. No extra water was added this time and it seems the better for it. I am rewarded later on in the day by a good increase in ‘froth’ and I resolve to leave it alone until day 9, when it can be used.

Day 9

Working out how long this is going to take, and bearing in mind the long 2^nd proving time (10 – 13 hours), the decision is made to start this off about 3.00pm. The starter, flour salt and water are mixed together into a rough wet dough, then placed on a working surface that has a small amount of olive oil and knead for around 10 minutes. I am amazed at how quickly the rough dough becomes smooth and flexible. Then the dough is put into a bowl, covered and left for 5 hours.

It is at this point that I realise I may have a problem with the next bit. The recipe calls for  the dough to be split into two and then each to be put on a tray and covered with a plastic bag while it proves for 13 hours. The problem is that I don’t have a tray small enough to be put into a plastic bag, or a plastic bag big enough to cover the trays I have. Time for a think and a discussion with my beloved.

In the end, we (or rather I) decide to put the dough into two loaf tins and put each of those in a plastic bag. My husband, viewing the dough in the tins wonders aloud as to whether it (the dough) should have been divided into 3. Sadly, when I get up at 6.30am, I find that they are literally flowing over. Remedial work is required. The dough is taken out of the tins, divided into 3, each being roughly moulded and put into fresh tins for 5 hours. I mentally thank Mr Hollywood for advising that if the dough over proves then, it should be moulded back into shape and left for 5 hours. I’m not too sure what he would have said about my problem. And would I be listening or looking at those beautiful blue eyes?

After 5 hours the tins go into the hot oven. And we wait. I had always thought that the people on the Great British Bake-off must have been mad to be kneeing down looking at their latest great bake, but I find I’m doing exactly the same thing. And doing a really good exercise in holding my breath.

Finally, I judge that it is time to take the loaves out. They seem the right colour. There is no problem getting them out of the tins (another major concern as the dough did seem too wet), and I can see bubbles throughout each loaf. Maybe this has worked?

I can’t wait for the bread to fully cool down. My husband slices the bread, put some olive spread on and give to me to try. It tastes…….gorgeous!!  It has an almost cheesy taste – it’s distinctive anyway. Unlike the sourdough I had made before, there is no after taste. And it tastes tons better that what I had eaten in a café.. The description my husband gave was almost like a crumpet and I would have to agree with him. One day on and having had bread for breakfast and lunch, I do believe I'm addicted and looking forward to honing my skills to make this wonderful type of bread. But will all go smoothly?

Living Sourdough - Part 1

Ever since I read a book where the heroine made sourdough bread every day, I've been captivated by the thought of making the same (By Bread Alone by Sarah-Kate Lynch). In this book, she was taught, I think, by her first love – a Frenchman; her husband also loved her for her skill. And he could tell her state of mind by her making, or not making of that bread.

The whole thing was so well described; it has just made me want to do it. And do you know what(?), it’s not easy. I have tried different recipes, with varying degrees of success. To be fair, there has been only one occasion when I had to throw the sourdough starter away because it didn't start and began to smell very peculiar. But to make sourdough bread that I could be proud of hasn't happened yet.

Add to the scenario a husband (my ownxx) who cooks sublime wholemeal bread in batches for a weeks supply and who would like me to get involved in this whole baking process and you have nearly the current position. My last effort was from a Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall recipe that I found. The bread was edible, but it wasn't going to set the world alight and was far better toasted than fresh. And following a lunch in a café where I ate some of the sourdough bread, I came home and threw the starter away. This wasn't for me, I thought.

Until, one weekend a few weeks ago, in my weekend Telegraph papers, I found bread recipes from that gorgeous Paul Hollywood. And there was a section on ….you guessed it – sourdough. Reading through the very clear instructions, I felt my spirits rise. Maybe, I could do it – maybe this time I could produce sourdough to be proud of.

This week I made a start, having purchased one of those glass Kilner air tight jars in which to put the starter in and organic apples, one of which was to be grated to the flour and water mix as the starter base.

As I mixed the flour and water together in the prescribed quantities, I was a bit perplexed as it seemed very dry. In fact there was a lot of loose flour around. So I added a little more water, remembering that the amount of water that you add is sometimes dependent on the flour (I hoped). The grated apple came next. Then everything was put in the glass jar which was shut up and put in my study.

The first day was rather quiet, although after twenty four hours, I could see a few small bubbles. By the end of the second day, things were definitely on the move with the mixture rising up the jar. At the end of the third day, the bubbly mixture had dropped down to its original level, and was ready for feeding.

Reading the instructions carefully, I measured out the flour and the water – again, a very dry mix and a little more water added. I then opened the jar to find that the bubbly mixture was a sticky glutinous bubble mix, better than I had seen before. It was a shame to have to dispose of half the mix, but this I duly did and added the rest to the flour and water mix. Again, I was startled to see as I was stirring large bubbles appearing on every stir of the spoon. I felt a lot more confident – maybe this was going to work.

 The mixture was placed back into the container, which was shut up for two more days. I can tell you that at the moment, it, after two hours has recommenced bubbling and I will keep you in touch as to my and its progress.