Bottom: Tom Farrell in action: an artisan baker shows you some of the steps to better bread including (Clockwise from upper left) kneading, folding, shaping and slashing before going into the oven to bake.
Photos by STEPHEN HOLMAN / Tulsa World

Baking artisan-style bread takes time. Better get started.

The golden loaves come out of the oven singing. It's music to Tom Farrell's ears.

Bread "sings" when the hot, caramelized crust hits the cool, outer air and crackles into a melt-in-your-mouth mosaic.

"When I hear that cracking," Farrell says, "it's all I can do to contain myself."

Farrell is a baker. He wasn't always. But years of restaurant cooking didn't fulfill him the way wrestling with the loaves does.

"It keeps you connected to life, to people," Farrell says. "It keeps you in a certain place.

"Bread," he says, with flour in his hair, "is superior."

And old. So old that the artisans of antiquity held titles that appear today as names in a phone book: Farmer, Miller, Cook, Baker.

Bread lives. Like wine and cheese, it is a being, environmentally sensitive and evolving. Bread remains in a state of flux until the oven kills it.

But bread prefers life. There's life all around the Sterling Plate, the deli and catering company where Farrell does his baking. It's on the workbench, in the cooler, in the nooks and crannies, and in the air. Wherever bread is in process, so is yeast. It's a fertile environment ripe with living cells.

In "Bread Alone," baker-writer Daniel Leader calls this search for the dough starter "stalking the wild yeasts." Tom Farrell can identify.

"Levure sauvage," he says. "I love that."

Flour, water and yeast are the holy trinity of bread. If you bake, remember to keep it holy. Bread dough made of good organic flour -- an essential element, Farrell believes, in honest breadmaking -- can live as long as 30 hours.

Bill -- Farrell's strong, silent assistant -- is manhandling a 120-pound fermented blob fresh from the mixer.

"That was a light one," he swears, sweat beading his forehead.

Farrell's mixer is well-seasoned: scraps of dough and dustings of flour stick to it like spackling. It looks a mess but requires no cleaning.

"It can't go bad," Farrell says of the dough, "it's already bad. Like cottage cheese."

The mixer comes with a unique attachment: a hydraulic lift for industrial-sized doughs. After the 2-foot mixing screw does its work, the lift pushes the tub-sized steel bowl 6 feet off the ground. Then it tips it, and the mix of flour, water and yeast comes tumbling down onto the worktable.

"Tom and his toys," gibes cheesecake baker Jim Green, who owns the Sterling Plate.

But Farrell isn't playing around. It's serious work, this bread business. The art of a good loaf is painstaking. It demands time and temperature, equipment and devotion. And elbow grease: You can't make bread without kneading, punching and shaping.

Oh, you can, in a bread machine. But the hallmarks of good bread -- bittersweet, caramelized crusts; swiss-cheese holes in the gluten; myriad shapes that define flavor -- don't occur in a machine. They are the product of your head and your hands.

"The type of dough created in a machine is not as gentle as that created by the human hand," says Keith Cheeseman, a baker with Harvest Fine Foods, 5950 S. Yale Ave.

"Machines are alien to the historic art of breadmaking. I love bread that somebody somewhere got some mold, some growth, put it in with flour and water and got a rise out of it.

"Bread loses its heart when the human being is taken out of it."

Farrell Family Organic Bread is on sale at the Sterling Plate, Wild Oats, Petty's, Siegi's, Harvest Donut Shop and the Cherry Street Farmer's Market.

Leaven worth

American sourdough: more sour than a European loaf. A wonderful choice for cheese, beer and sausage.

Pain au levain: "Pain" is French for bread, and "levain" for leaven. It's a hearty, country loaf with a mildly sour selection. Perfect for a brie sandwich.

Baguette: Everyman's bread. In France, the size and price are regulated, so traditional to the culture is it. Malty flavor, classic sauce-mopping bread.

Stirrato: Similar to ciabbata. Good with a salad of tomato and mozzarella, and for dipping into good olive oil.

Wheatberry nut levain: contains whole sprouted wheatberries, toasted organic walnuts and pecans. An ideal bread for chicken salad or a spread of gorgonzola.

Sourdough rye: 30 percent rye meal, 70 percent wheat flour. Standard sandwich bread with a big robustness that takes well to mustard, pastrami and other strong flavors.

Tuscan loaf: similar to a baguette but with less crust.

Building good bread takes hands, heart and practice

Keeping the dough at the right temperature is essential to its growth. Around 78 degrees is pretty prime. This is a trying element that requires attention and a little luck.

"When the weather changes," said Tom Farrell of Farrell Family Organic Bread. "I have to start from scratch."

Organic flour, available in health- food stores, is a superior product to the generic all-purpose white flour. It contains the necessary protein for good cell structure and, because it's less processed, provides rich, wholesome flavor.

Don't soil your dough with tap water and its various chemicals. Spring water is best; filtered water is reliable.

The rest is you. Your bread will al ter under a variety of conditions that you control. Arming yourself with the right tools and methods is a start (Leader's "Bread Alone" is a fine text for the beginner) but trial and experience will determine good bread.

The beauty of it is, whether you're making a two-pound dough for home use or a 120-pound one like the kind Farrell deals with, the science is the same.

Here are the steps toward great-tasting artisan bread:

1. Mixing and kneading -- "It's like juggling," Farrell said of the kneading process. "The more you do it, the better you get. We're creatures of routine more than we realize."

Hand kneading takes a good 15 to 17 minutes to really incorporate the dough. Use the time as therapy, and to get a feel for your bread. "Kneading clears the mind," Farrell said.

2. Fermenting -- "You're basically waiting for the yeast to multiply and rise the bread," Farrell said. For pain au levain, two hours of primary fermentation is required (see tulsa world.com for a recipe).

3. Folding and punching -- What Farrell calls "stretching the gluten web." It's a short series of folds and tucks that takes place prior to another hour of fermentation. Then another folding and another hour of fermentation.

4. Scaling -- "When bread was sold by weight," Farrell said, "bakers were jailed when their loaves weren't the proper weight."

5. Benching -- Prior to shaping, let the dough rest for 30 minutes. Cover it with a floured cloth towel.

6. Shaping -- "Depending on what finished product we're looking for," Farrell said, he'll shape free-form or place the dough in a basket.

7. Proofing -- "This is the last rise," Farrell said, "before going in the oven. You're `proving' that you did all the steps correctly." Look for the dough to rise about 1.5 times its original size.

"Dimple it with your finger," Farrell said, "and when it doesn't spring back it's ready for the oven."

8. Baking -- "Slashing" is what gives a nice loaf of bread those creative swirls and indents. For this, you need a sharp serrated knife or a razor blade.

The tell-tale sign of successful bread is "oven spring." It occurs in the first 15 minutes. The bread will deflate slightly upon entering the oven, then spring back. The loaf is now on its way to searing. For that crunchy, brown crust, you need steam. One way is to spray the walls of the oven with a water bottle, once before shutting the oven door and again after about three minutes. (This will give you a chance to look for oven spring.)

Note: A nifty item called a cloche is another way to ensure good crust. It's an upside-down clay pot with a lid. In a hot oven, the moisture of the dough contained inside the cloche provides the requisite steam.

Mark Brown, World staff writer, can be reached at 581-8447 or via e-mail at mailto:mark.brown@tulsaworld.com

Baking artisan bread: think of it as kitchen therapy

Instant-read thermometer -- for measuring dough temperature.

Pizza stone -- to bake bread on.

Couche -- a piece of canvas used to shape loaves. Parchment paper works.

Container -- for the starter. A plastic bucket is best. Alternatively, a large piece of Tupperware, or a large stainless steel bowl (cover with plastic wrap).

Peel -- what you use to get the bread in and out of the oven.

A helpful tool, as well, would be a breadmaking book, like Daniel Leader's "Bread Alone" or "The Bread Builders" by Daniel Wing and Alan Scott (Chelsea Green, 1999, $35).

Basil's Pain au Levain

Adapted from "Bread Alone" by Daniel Leader (William Morrow, 1993, $28)

Makes 2 long 14-inch loaves

2 cups (18 ounces) levain (below)

2 1/4 cups (18 fluid ounces) spring water

4 1/2-5 1/2 cups (24-29 ounces) 20-percent bran wheat flour

1 tablespoon (3/4 ounce) fine sea salt

Mix and knead the final dough (20 minutes)

Measure the ingredients at room temperature. Combine the levain and water in a 6-quart bowl. Break up the levain well with a wooden spoon, or squeeze it through your fingers until broken up. Continue stirring until the levain is partly dissolved and the mixture is slightly frothy. Add 1 cup (5 ounces) of the flour and stir until well combined. Add the salt and just enough of the remaining flour to make a thick mass that is difficult to stir. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead, adding remaining flour when needed, until dough is firm and smooth, 15 to 17 minutes. The dough is ready when a little dough pulled from the mass springs back quickly.

Ferment the dough (2 hours)

Shape the dough into a ball and let it rest on a lightly floured surface while you scrape, clean and lightly oil the large bowl. Place the dough in the bowl and turn once to coat with oil. Take the dough's temperature: the ideal is 78 degrees Fahrenheit. Cover with a clean damp towel or plastic wrap and place in a moderately warm (74-80 degrees) draft-free place until increased in volume about one- quarter.

Divide the dough and rest (35 minutes)

Deflate the dough by pushing down in the center and pulling up on the sides. Transfer the dough to a lightly floured work surface and knead briefly. Cut into 2 equal pieces. Shape each into a tight round ball and place on a lightly floured board. Cover with a clean damp towel or plastic wrap and place in a moderately warm draft-free spot for 30 minutes.

Shape the loaves (5 minutes)

Flatten each ball with the heel of your hand on a lightly floured surface into a disk 8 inches in diameter. Shape into torpedoes.

Proof the loaves (2 hours)

Place the loaves seam side up in a well-floured bowl. Cover with a clean damp towel or plastic wrap and place in a moderately warm draft-free spot until almost doubled in volume, or until a slight indentation remains when the dough is pressed with a fingertip.

Bake the loaves (30 minutes)

Forty-five minutes to 1 hour before baking, preheat the oven and pizza stone on the CENTER RACK of the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit.

Using the bowl as an aid, gently roll one loaf from the bowl onto a lightly floured peel so that it sits seam side down. Using a very sharp, serrated knife or a single-edged razor blade, score the loaf by making quick, shallow, diagonal cuts 1/4- to 1/2- inch deep along the surface. Using the peel, slide the loaf onto the hearth. Repeat the process with the second loaf. Quickly spray the inner walls and floor of the oven with cold water from a spritzer bottle. If there's an electric light bulb in the oven, avoid spraying it directly -- it may burst. Spray for several seconds until steam has filled the oven. Quickly close the door to trap the steam and bake 3 minutes. Spray again in the same way, closing the door immediately so that steam doesn't escape. Bake until loaves are a rich caramel color and the crust is firm, 25 to 30 minutes.

To test the loaves for doneness, remove and hold the loaves upside down. Strike the bottoms firmly with your finger. If the sound is hollow, the breads are done. If it doesn't sound hollow, bake 5 minutes longer. Cool completely on a wire rack.

Making the chef and levain

Building a ripe chef and then the levain (or sourdough starter) is a fermentation process that demands some time and attention, although a minimum of actual work.

The chef

Begin by building the chef, the seed from which the levain will be created. Use 20-percent bran wheat flour, although you can use whole wheat flour for a very strongly flavored chef if you wish. Spring water ensures that there are no chemicals in your liquid to impede the chef's growth. The pinch of yeast is important to collect wild yeasts from the air.

Observation is the key to making a healthy chef. Throughout the 72-hour fermentation period, the flour mixture will create carbon dioxide and the chef will evolve. To help your observation, use a marker pen to show the level of the ripening chef each day on the side of the fermentation container. This way, you won't have to guess how much the chef has risen since last you looked.

Day 1

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (4 ounces) 20-percent bran wheat flour

1/2 cup (4 fluid ounces) spring water

Pinch (less than 1/16 teaspoon) moist yeast or dry yeast

Combine the flour, water and yeast in a tall 2- to 3-quart clear plastic container with a lid. Stir well to make a thick, soft dough. The exact consistency of the dough will vary with the brand of flour, but don't add more flour or water at this point to adjust the texture. Scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula, cover tightly with lid, and let stand in a moderate (about 70 degrees Fahrenheit) place for 24 hours.

Day 2

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (4 ounces) 20-percent bran wheat flour

1/2 cup (4 fluid ounces) spring water

The chef should have almost doubled in volume. You will see tiny bubbles on the surface, and you might notice a slight musty smell. Add the flour and water to the mixture and stir vigorously to distribute the fresh ingredients and add fresh oxygen to the chef. The texture will still be like a soft dough. You may add a little more flour or water to make this texture, if necessary. Scrape down the sides, cover and place in a moderate, draft- free place for 24 hours.

Day 3

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (4 ounces) 20-percent bran wheat flour

1/2 cup (4 fluid ounces) spring water

The chef will now have the texture of a thick batter. It will have almost doubled in volume and be quite bubbly. Taste it! It will have a pronounced musty, but not bitter, flavor. The scent will be aggressively vinegary -- that's fine.

Add the flour and water, and stir well to make a thick batter. Lift up the spoon slowly and notice the texture of the chef. It will attach itself to the spoon in sticky, gummy strands. With a marker pen, mark the level of the chef on the side of the container. Scrape down the sides, cover tightly, and let stand in a moderate, draft-free place for 24 hours.

The chef is now ripe. It should be very loose in texture, like a pancake batter. It will have doubled in volume. The chef may rise and fall, but as long as it doubles at some point during this last period, it's fine. If your chef is pungent and tangy, you're on your way to great levain.

You now have a fully ripe chef ready to transform into a levain. If you don't want to make the levain immediately, the chef can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.

The levain

Once the ripe chef is full of bubbles and has a batterlike consistency, it is ready to turn into levain. Approximately 8 hours before you intend to start mixing your dough, you will have to make the levain sourdough starter.

Levain starter

1 1/4 cups (6 ounces) 20-percent bran wheat flour

Chef

Add the flour directly into the container with the full batch of chef. Stir vigorously to add fresh oxygen to the mixture. This will form a stiff consistency more like a stiff dough than a batter. This firm texture is important for ripening levain because a dense rather than loose levain creates delicious sour bread without an overpowering tangy bite. Scrape down the sides, cover tightly, and let stand in a moderate, draft-free place for 8 to 10 hours.

The levain should have doubled in volume. The texture will be somewhat light, with many tiny bubbles throughout. Do not let the levain stand for longer than 10 hours, or the yeast will become exhausted and not raise the final dough.

This recipe yields 18 ounces of levain.