Yesterday morning I started preparing an experimental loaf of sourdough where I replaced all but a little of the water in the recipe with a honey brown lager.
Today, the loaf has been proofed, baked and sampled.
But letās back up a step.
Iāve been pondering sourdough mix-ins. In the past year of pandemic lockdown Iāve baked about a hundred and fifty loaves of bread. Ninety-percent of these have been baked purely to answer the āwe need breadā call. There are a few reasons I turned to sourdough as a mostly reliable source of food during the pandemic, and some of them are practical. Yet, Iāve long had a curiosity about working towards honing skills in arts and science, and tending a sourdough starter to bake awesome bread checks off a few boxes in that inquisitive mindset approach to life.
Sourdough also overlaps nicely with the Philosophy of the Cast Iron Guy (TM) in that a sourdough starter is simple, down-to-earth, and extremely useful. Flour, water, and cultivated yeasts can be fed and maintained for years (and generations) with some basic care and feeding, and at anytime a little bit of that starter can bring a bit more flour and water to life to create a delicious loaf of bread.
Plus, I cook most of my sourdough in cast iron, so thereās that.
Yet man cannot live on bread alone. Someone said that.
I have often looked for ways to make the bread a bit more interesting. Adding some cheese or herbs makes a delicious loaf. A swirl of cinnamon and sugar in a sweetened bread is amazing if it works out right. And, of course, Iāve collected various varieties of flour to play with the blend that makes up the bread itself.
Yesterday, I tried substituting the water for beer.
Beer is largely water, of course, and the other ingredients in a brew overlap so neatly with sourdough that it has been said that beer making and sourdough baking are cousins in the culinary world.
So, what does beer bring to the blend?
To prepare to answer this question effectively I made sure that before baking with a full can of my beer of choice, a Sleemanās Honey Brown Lager I had more than one can in the house. Last night, after prepping the dough ball for itās final rise in the proofing basket, I poured myself one of the other cans and settled into the couch to do some relaxing and a bit of writing.
The honey brown has a sweet and malty taste, and while Iām not a beer expert it would rank somewhere mid-to high on a refreshing scale. Itās not quite one of those gulp down in the heat of summer brews, but itās closer to that than, say, an IPA which I would usually consider a run-over-your-tongue and savour-it beer. What I was focusing on with the bread, however, was did any of those beer flavours carry over to the final loaf?
First, bread had a lot more air bubbles in it than usual. Iāve made the foundational sourdough recipe so many times now that Iāve got a really good feel for times and temperatures. This can be caused by a lot of things, and usually itās because too long of a rise, but with the outside temperatures being in the minus thirties itās been tough keeping the house consistently warm, let alone speedy-bread-rise warm.
Second, the darker colour resembeled a loaf Iād have cooked with a blend that had a lot more full grain flours in it. I cook white bread often, because usually I run out of the smaller bags of multigrain or whole wheat and we always have white bread flour. My white bread has a distinctive shade of pale (though not ever bleached white) and this 100% white flour bread was not it. The amber-hued ale brought a richer colour to the final loaf that I liked.
Finally, the bread did have a stonger flavour than a plain white loaf. I would say that it wasnāt a beer flavour specifically but rather something more nutty or generally richer and deeper. Beer-adjacent, definitely. The best way I can put it is that while normally I eat my bread for breakfast with jams or honey, somehow I would think this loaf would do better with a bit of swiss cheese or as part of a less-sweet sandwhich. The complexity of flavour that the beer gave to the bread was enough that can confidently say dabbing a gob of strawberry jam on this would clash and make it tough to swallow.
Was it worth sacrificing a can of beer (over free tap water) for a richer loaf? Moderate postitive. Iām going to try a stronger, darker stout beer (likely a Guinness) next to see if there is an even richer final result to be had, but while the results with the honey brown lager were subtle I think I would try this again, yes.