Wood-Fired Ovens and Sourdough Bread

Light and dark sourdough breads

The Spy took a break from his grisly labours yesterday for a day so surreal and magical that he is still not sure whether the whole thing was a hallucination brought on by too many of said grizzled labours. There is only so much information he can impart, lest his enemies (always dogging his step, blast their sneaky eyes) trace him and uncover the whole racket, but in short, the Spy found himself in an undisclosed location in the fens, standing by a wood-fired oven covered in roses and teasels, a bucket of Californian sourdough starter by his side, helping two bakers from either side of the Atlantic to bake over 60 loaves, from flours including wholemeal spelt, dark rye, light rye, and an experimental einkorn number (an ancient wheat still used in some areas of France for pancake-making). Plus spelt pizzas for lunch. Quite simply, life does not get better than this. 

Since he is unable to disclose too much information, a series of pictures will have to suffice:  

 

Roses!

Teasels! On an oven roof! The Spy couldn't believe his eyes...

The wood smouldering in the oven, ready to be scraped out when the baking begins (the bread is cooked with the residual heat of the bricks)

 

Mixing... Dividing...

 

A particularly fine batch of dark rye sourdough proofing in their little baskets

Light rye topped with caraway seeds, about to be consigned to the fiery pits

 

Wee bread dudes chilling out in the heat (L), and post-cooking, a tumbling heap of light and dark rye (R)

A quick spot of lunch...

Early results from the oven proved successful, although the Spy was only able to conclude this after he had tested 3 pieces...

 

Have we got enough bread yet, chaps? No, sure not, here's another batch, this time with mustard seeds, linseeds and honey (L) and a seeded wholemeal number covered in pumpkin seeds....

Well, that's all, folks. Eight hours after he arrived, the Spy left this paradise with his belly and soul singing. Oh, and did he mention the ancient orchard that stood behind the oven? The pumpkin patch to its left? The herb garden behind it? The cold smoker fashioned out of an oil drum? The bushes of currants, the purple podded peas, the homemade apple juice, the broad beans and the roses? The Spy can only conclude that this was indeed a hallucination: such a paradise couldn't possibly exist in real life. Ho hum, back to the daily grind...

 

Can the Spy interest anyone in purple beans and ancient eikhorn wheat (L)? Perhaps an oil-drum cold-smoker with a rose and clematis backdrop (R)?

In which case, he'll just finish with an end-of-the-day shot of the roses over the oven, pumpkin patch in the background...