Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Achievement unlocked


Despite being of the appropriate faith, our family doesn't really have Christmas traditions. We have never had an expectation of Christmas-specific gifts, decorate the house or sit down for a traditional meal. I sometimes give away Christmas cookies but that's about as far as my gift-giving goes. I think on an individual level, all of us a somewhat opposed to the commercialisation of Christmas and make a point of not acknowledging it. It's not that we don't give each other gifts at other times, there's just something about gaudy red and green wrapping paper that mildly repels us.

We do enjoy the Christmas break and often, it is a time for carefully prepared meals eaten at a languid pace, and for personal projects that have been neglected throughout the year. Although it isn't quite the holidays yet, I have felt the holiday spirit a little bit. It sneaked up on me and gave me the motivation to make rhubarb pie, a project that I had been attempting and doing poorly on for years.

When we pass rhubarb at the supermarket, my dad often talks about his memories of studying in England, where rhubarb pie became a favourite of his. I have tried to make it several times in the past, but it has never been objectively good. I can think of at least four disappointing pies in my past that were too soggy, too sour, intriguingly dry or otherwise unsatisfactory. 

This time around, with a fresh perspective and a much improved pastry-making game, I made another attempt using a crust recipe from Serious Eats and an almost embarrassingly easy filling recipe from allrecipes.com. Without even a single specialty ingredient, I was finally successful in baking the dream rhubarb pie. Perfectly flaky pastry that was easy to handle and caramelised top and bottom, and filling that was set but still luscious and bursting with pure rhubarb flavour.

The pie sliced neatly, it was so good that each bite was a pleasant surprise, and I am kicking myself for not packing myself a slice for lunch. And based on my dad's reaction, I consider the rhubarb pie goal achieved.

And finally, a picture of all 5 of the chickens to brighten up your morning.


All 5 chickens checking out some parsley


Best-ever rhubarb pie 
makes 1 double crust pie
 pastry from Serious Eats
filling and baking method slightly adapted from allrecipes.com

Pastry (The pastry needs to be chilled for 2hrs prior to baking so take this into account)
 1 1/2c plain flour
2Tb sugar
1tsp salt
280g cold butter, cut into small cubes
6Tb ice water

Filling
4c of chopped rhubarb
1 1/3c sugar
6Tb plain flour
1 egg
extra sugar for sprinkling 

1. Combine 1c of flour with salt and sugar in the food processor. Add the butter and pulse until the butter is fully incorporated into the flour.
2. Add the remaining flour and pulse again to get a crumbly dough.
3. Transfer the dough into a bowl, sprinkle with water and fold the mixture to incorporate the water throughout.
4. Divide the dough into two equal disc-shaped portions, wrap in clingfilm and chill for at least 2 hours.

5. Preheat oven to 230 degrees Celsius and move an oven rack into the lowest position. Combine the sugar and flour for the filling in a small bowl.
6. Roll the discs out until it is a circle that is about 3-4cm bigger than your pie tin. Rolling the dough out on two pieces of baking paper or silicone mats makes transferring easier - just remove one of the pieces of paper, wrap the dough around your rolling pin and unroll it on top of your tin.
6. Fit the bottom crust into the pie tin, sprinkle over about 1/4 of the sugar/flour mixture, followed by the rhubarb. Cover with remaining sugar/flour.
7. Top with the second lot of pastry and seal the edges by crimping or pressing with a fork. Cut some vents in the top of the pie to allow steam to escape. 
8. Whisk the egg with 1Tb of water and brush this over the top of the pie, followed by a sprinkle of sugar.
9.  Bake the pie for 15 minutes then reduce the temperature to 175 degrees Celsius and bake for another 35-40 minutes. You may need to cover the edges of the pie with a ring of tinfoil to prevent over-browning.
10. Cool on a baking rack for at least 30 minutes before cutting.

Tuesday, 15 December 2015

Very early mornings

We got chickens!





The wild-eyed one in the foreground is undoubtedly our alpha, we call her Dictator. The two other faces belong to yet-to-be-named girls - all three of them are blue leghorns of varying shades. Just next to the red of the water bell is the bottom of the araucana, named Problem, and out of view is the australorp.

It's only been a few days since the chickens arrived, but they have already made a big difference to my morning routine. On the first morning I got out of bed at 5.50am to let them out of the coop after about an hour of trying to sleep in and being disturbed by dreams of hungry, restless chickens. And trust me when I say that this is unprecedented for an night owl like me.

It being a Sunday morning, I was left with plenty of free time so I decided to go fully domestic and bake bread for the coming week. I had taken the sourdough starter out of the fridge, and fed it from Friday, so by then it was bubbly and ready to go. Staggered by about 30 minutes, I baked two loaves of light rye bread for general consumption and two loaves of my bread of the moment, a gently spiced, date, peel and walnut studded beauty that has been my breakfast staple for the last week.

 
Date/walnut at the top and light rye at the bottom.
The date loaf is probably one of the best breads I have ever made, it is moist but airy-textured, full of interesting bits, and is fragrant with mixed spice and citrus peel. Two slices of it (toasted and buttered) with a travel mug of hot tea is the highlight of my weekday mornings. I kept an uncut loaf of it on the kitchen counter last week and although it did get a bit firmer with time, it remained satisfactorily soft and fresh. Quality and longevity, what a package. This time around, I sliced and froze the loaf to save a bit of time in the mornings - either way is good.


Preslicing a new loaf.
 I do think it is interesting that I am increasingly taking pleasure in somewhat old-fashioned hobbies. The chickens and the sourdough, the homemade yogurt and the burgeoning container garden, it is a means of taking back some control of the world around me in these turbulent times. Despite how idyllic it sounds, I don't see my interest in domestic hobbies as a means of escapism, nor is it related to an illogical rejection of the 'unnatural' or 'chemicals' (as a scientist, this kind of thinking does bother me). The adoption of a more self-sufficient lifestyle is like a trend at the moment, but for me, and I'm sure many others too, it is a conscious action taken to challenge myself to live outside of the confines of the food industry, acquire new skills and derive greater pleasure from everyday things. 

Fake eggs to help the chickens know where to lay.

 It's mostly fun and games, but it is significant too. As my beloved George Orwell wrote in his essay 'Some thoughts on the common toad':

  • "I have always suspected that if our economic and political problems are ever really solved, life will become simpler instead of more complex, and that the sort of pleasure one gets from finding the first primrose will loom larger than the sort of pleasure one gets from eating an ice to the tune of a Wurlitzer. I think that by retaining one’s childhood love of such things as trees, fishes, butterflies and – to return to my first instance – toads, one makes a peaceful and decent future a little more probable, and that by preaching the doctrine that nothing is to be admired except steel and concrete, one merely makes it a little surer that human beings will have no outlet for their surplus energy except in hatred and leader worship."
Date and walnut sourdough
adapted from Slow Living Essentials
makes two 700g loaves

250g 100% hydration starter
275g water
350g high grade flour
150g rye flour
2Tb brown sugar
1 generous Tb marmalade or candied citrus peel
1c chopped dates
1c chopped walnuts
1 1/2tsp mixed spice
2 Tb olive oil
1 1/4tsp salt

1. In a large bowl, whisk together starter and water. Add all ingredients except salt and oil and mix to combine. Leave to autolyse for 30 minutes.
2. Add salt and knead until the dough bounces back when poked. Add the olive oil and knead to incorporate.
3. Leave to rise for 2-3 hours, with turns every hour.
4. Gently deflate the dough and divide into two equal portions. 
5. Shape into batards and place in a paper lined loaf tins or couch/bannetons if you have them. Cover with a clean tea towel and leave for 2-2.5hrs.
6. Preheat oven to 220 degrees Celsius, along with the baking tray that you will use for the loaves. Place a cake tin on the floor of the oven and pour in about 2cm of boiling water just before you bake the loaves.
7. Slash the loaves, place them (baking paper and all) onto the preheated baking tray and into the oven and bake for 10 minutes. The exposed bits of date have a tendency to burn, so turn the temperature down early if you think this might be happening.
8. After 10 minutes, reduce the temperature to 200 degrees Celsius and remove the tin of water, be careful as this will be very hot. Bake for a further 20-25 minutes until the crust is a deep brown and the bottoms of the loaves sound hollow when tapped.
9. Cool on a wire rack for at least 30 minutes before slicing and eating fresh. Alternatively, cool the loaf completely, slice it all up and store in an airtight bag/container in the freezer.
 

Wednesday, 9 December 2015

Discworld days

The scent of sweetpeas is carried by every breeze these days.

 I have been cooking up a storm recently, baking loaves and loaves of lovely sourdough breads, taking advantage of the vigorously growing herbs in my garden, and thoroughly enjoying the vegetable offerings of spring and early summer. But I have been very lax in planning posts and taking pictures accordingly. I think perhaps as a means of self-preservation, I have been holding back on thinking and reflecting too much. There is just too much horror in the world at the moment, and worse, the reactions of many 'average' people to such events reflects the ugliest and most base aspects of humanity. 

I have been rereading a lot of Terry Pratchett's (or Sir Terrence David John's) Discworld novels, particularly the ones with Sam Vimes (or His Grace, His Excellency, The Duke of Ankh; Commander Sir Samuel Vimes). It is partly a comfort thing but in my rather doting opinion, the stories of Discworld, the ones with Sam Vimes in particular provide a certain kind of clarity by reflecting real world problems in a fun-house mirror. In Jingo for example, the xenophobia and nationalism displayed by the citizens of Ankh-Morepork and Klatch, the Discworld version of a military-industrial complex represented by Burleigh and Stronginthearm and the guild leaders, and the farcical almost-war over a barren island that is mostly submerged in the ocean, all have real world parallels, albeit without the straightforward morality of Sam Vimes or the vicious intelligence of the despotic Lord Vetinari  to set things right again.

Even if we can't solve the worlds problems like they do in Discworld, the stories nail how ludicrous some of these problems are and (in my reading) advocate for a more thoughtful and measured approach to solutions, coupled with realistic expectations and the desire not to cause widespread death and destruction. Most of the time. In any case, we can learn from Ankh-Morepork's mistakes.

After a couple of weeks of having my nose buried in Discworld, I naturally had to dig up Nanny Ogg's Cookbook and peruse it for some likely looking recipes. I decided to start small and made a plate of Jammy Devils (recipe courtesy of Maisie Nobbs, mother of Nobby). After reading the recipe, it wasn't clear whether it was a rock-cake-like crunchy-tender treat or more of a biscuit. An interesting thing about the recipe was that it called for mixing a spoonful of jam into the dough before shaping to create a swirl of jam through the dough. I used a slightly more refined technique and flattened out the dough on a silpat to about 2cm width, spread the jam on top, then rolled and stretched the dough into a roughly 30cm long cylinder. I chilled the dough for 30 minutes before slicing the cylinder into 16 pieces, and filling and baking according to the instructions.

Jammy Devils
 The end result was akin to a thick shortbread cookie with a caramelized jam swirl and slightly tacky jam centre. The biscuit aspect was barely sweet and short but felt dry due to the thickness. The finished cookies definitely had a rough-and-ready look about them and were nice enough with a cup of tea. Acceptable for a novelty recipe but not my idea of an ideal thumbprint cookie-type treat.

Unable to leave things be, I made a batch of thumbprint cookies the very next day. Although I failed to get a decent photo of them, these were delicate, well-balanced and had a crispy exterior thanks to a roll around in almond meal (leftover from making almond milk). Much closer to the ideal and with a potato chip-like addictive quality that I liked very much. As much as I love reading about Ankh-Morepork, I would pick these over the Jammy Devils any day.


They spread a bit more than I would prefer, next time I will chill each batch for 30 minutes in the freezer.

Almond and jam thumbprint cookies
makes about 30 small cookies
adapted from Food Network

1 3/4c plain flour
1 1/4c almond meal (divided into 1c and 1/4c)
1/2tsp baking powder
1/2tsp salt
170g softened butter
2/3c sugar

1tsp vanilla extract
1/4tsp almond extract
1 egg
3/4c jam (I used cherry)

1. Beat butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. Add egg and extracts and mix to combine.
2. Sift in the dry ingredients including 1/4c of almond meal. Mix to form a soft dough. If it is too soft to handle, chill in the fridge for 30min at this point.
3. Shape the dough into tablespoon-sized balls and roll in the remaining 1c almond flour.
4. Place balls on a baking sheet covered with baking paper, with at least 4cm between cookies. Flattened with the palm of your hand. 
5. Use a 1/2 teaspoon measure or the end of a wooden spoon to create an indentation in each dough ball. Fill with a generous 1/4tsp of jam. Chill cookies in the freezer for 30min.
6. Bake in an oven preheated to 160 degrees Celsius for 18-20 minutes. The cookies should be golden brown around the edges.
7. Cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Thursday, 26 November 2015

Therapeutic subspecialisation

If I had to summarise my main food source over the last few weeks, it would have to be 'sourdough.' It isn't as random as it initially seems, as the time that I have spent nurturing my starter, tucking in bowls of dough to prove overnight, and kneading and kneading to develop precious gluten has also probably done a lot to help keep me somewhat grounded during this tumultuous time. As the world becomes more unstable and terrifying, it is the basic stuff of life that brings the most comfort and reassurance. Bread, particularly sourdough, is a symbol for so many good aspects of humanity, sustenance and survival, warmth, the sharing of starter and extra loaves - a small and temporary effort to make the world a tiny bit more inviting.

The first loaf
This was the first time I have successfully grown a sourdough starter but it was so easy that I don't know how I managed to get it so wrong with my previous attempts. It took a few more days than the directions specified - 5 days to see signs of yeast activity and 7 or so before it could be considered vigorous, but as soon as the first loaf was baked and sat quietly crackling on the cooling rack, I knew that I had a good thing on my hands. I have already begun sharing around portions of starter with anyone who wants it, and have been gratified to hear reports of successful breads and pizzas outside of my kitchen.


And the taste of fresh sourdough? It's almost like tasting bread for the first time. The crust is chewy or crunchy and fundamentally enjoyable and each mouthful contains complex flavours that negate the need for toppings at all. My recent breakfast of choice has been a few slices of untoasted seeded sourdough and a cup of coffee, and despite sounding like a bread-and-water diet, it feels almost luxurious.

From the top: light rye, semolina, seeded sourdough toasts
Wholemeal sourdough bagels
A mid-spring dinner: wholemeal sourdough, homemade butter, homegrown radish slices, almond pesto and a runny brie.
As you can see, I have already tried a variety of recipes using my starter, from the basic white boule to hand-rolled bagels. I think my favourite bread to date is the aforementioned seeded loaf, a recipe from my favourite sourdough blog Wild Yeast.

Multi-grain seeded loaves - in which I learnt the importance of proper shaping

My adaptations to the recipe were purely pragmatic, I substituted in the seeds that I had to make up a total of 100g (20g flax seeds and 40 each of sunflower and pumpkin) and used wholegrain oats in place of rye flakes. The recipe has 2 long fermentations and takes a total of 7.5 hours. You get 2 small 500g loaves that can sit happily on the counter for 3-4 days in spring weather and also freeze well (place in an airtight bag and freeze when the loaf has cooled completely).

The recipe involves a lot of different techniques/steps and times so I have indicated them in red and blue respectively.

Multi-grain seeded sourdough
2x 500g loaves
adapted slightly from Wild Yeast

Soaker: place in a small bowl and soak for 30 minutes
100g of seeds of your choice
34g of wholegrain rolled oats
86g water

Dough:
240g of high grade flour (or plain flour and gluten flour)
93g wholemeal flour
41g coarse-ground rye flour
227g water - add about 200mL first then add the rest if required
9.4g salt
169g active 100%-hydration sourdough starter 
all of the soaker from above

1. While the soaker is soaking, combine everything else and knead until you have a dough which bounces back when you poke it and mostly passes the windowpane test.
2. Add the soaker and knead to distribute it throughout the dough.
3. Transfer to a lightly oiled container, cover with a clean tea towel and leave to ferment for 2.5hrs. Fold the dough at 50 and 100 minutes.
4. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface, divide into two even portions. Shape them into simple balls, cover with a tea towel and rest for 30min.
5. Shape the dough into 2 batards. I don't have a couche, so I place each batard seam-side down onto a piece of floured baking paper, then into my baguette baking tray. Cover with the tea towel and prove for 2.5-3hrs.
6. Preheat the oven and baking stone (I preheat a metal baking tray and even this helps in achieving a good crust) to 260 degrees Celsius and place a shallow baking tin filled with boiling water (I use a square cake tin with 2cm of water) in the floor of the oven to get steam.
7. Just before baking, slash the loaves with 1-2 longitudinal cuts. Place onto preheated baking tray and into the oven.
8. Once the loaves are in the oven, reduce the temperature to 230 degrees. After 10min remove the water-filled tin and bake for a further 25min.
9. Turn off the oven and leave the loaves in the oven for a further 10min with the door ajar.
10. Cool on wire rack.

Seeded and semolina sourdoughs with herbed scrambled eggs

Saturday, 7 November 2015

For Grace Lee Boggs

Sometimes you come across a life-changing moment without even recognising it for what it is. An idea can quietly settle into your head and stay there, without much fanfare or shouting, and it is only in retrospect that you realise how big it was. This was very much how my introduction to the ideas of Grace Lee Boggs went. I first learnt about her through the documentary 'American Revolutionary - the evolution of Grace Lee Boggs.' 

Her philosophical interpretation of what it means to be a revolutionary felt like a truth that I had been fumbling towards for a long time and helped to make sense of what my ever-changing ideas about the revolution meant. I went on to learn more about her life and read some of her work, and in a calm, logical and ever-hopeful way, her work became an illuminating presence during the many discouraging political/current events moments of the past year.


More directly, her ideas about food production helped to give greater form to my own thoughts on food and eating. Of taking back the chain of production as a progressive action and a way to bring greater meaning to our lives, and a sense of community to our neighbourhoods. Although these ideas had been bouncing around in my head for awhile, it was Grace's words that inspired me to action. I was a pretty enthusiastic gardener back in high school but it all became a bit much when university and work began.

I sought out some local/heritage seed producers and set about constructing a variety of container gardens around our house. Starting with microgreens and sprouts, and moving onto radishes and carrots - hopefully tomatoes, chilis and zucchini by the summer, I have been developing closer ties with the food that my family eats.


It has been a lot of fun so far, it's exciting to see a seed sprout, grow its first leaves and one day suddenly resemble a recognisable vegetable. It is satisfying to wash the soil off a freshly harvested radish and admire the brilliant pink and red colouration. It is rewarding to feel that ones revolutionary act is bearing literal fruit.

It is even more enjoyable to cook with vegetables if they're straight from the garden. They become a bit more precious. I couldn't bear to throw away the lovely, fresh radish leaves from the picture above, and decided to make a radish leaf pesto out of them. I followed the basic outline of this recipe, substituting nutritional yeast for parmesan and sunflower seeds for nuts (I'm not vegan or averse to nuts, I am just too lazy to go shopping just to make a pesto), and adding quite a lot of basil  to balance out the very peppery radish leaves.

The resulting pesto was fresh, fragrant and quite beautiful. I made a couple of sandwiches, using the pesto as a spread, but used most of it as pasta sauce, with the addition of a liberal sprinkling of red chili flakes and a bed of delicate, just-picked baby greens. I thought about Grace with gratitude as I ate dinner that evening, the dish wouldn't have existed without her. Later that week, I heard the news that she had passed away. It was like a star had burnt out of existence, and that a lot of greatness had suddenly disappeared from the world. It was the same feeling I had after finding out Kurt Vonnegut or Joe Strummer died. The world become a bit more mundane, a bit less special. 


I think that is why it has taken me such a long time to finish this post. It seems very final, and also a very paltry tribute to someone who meant so much to me. However, I was compelled to write this because I am so grateful, Grace Lee Boggs and her work has changed the way that I see the world and the struggle against stupidity, selfishness and cruelty that is going on right at this moment. I am so glad that we have had her as an elder and teacher, to show that the revolution must be thoughtful and self-searching in order to be successful. I guess that all there is left to say is thank you for all your hard work Grace Lee Boggs, we were blessed to have you.

Radish leaf and basil pesto
adapted from Chocolate & Zucchini
makes one small jar

2 large handfuls of fresh radish leaves (I used about 4 radishes-worth of leaves)
1 small handful of fresh basil
20g of nutritional yeast
30g of sunflower seeds
zest of half a small lemon
1 clove of garlic
2Tb olive oil

salt, pepper, chili flakes - to taste

1. Place all ingredients in a food processor or mortar and pestle and combine until you have a smooth sauce. Adjust salt/pepper/chili as required.
2. Store in a airtight container with a layer of olive oil on top. Keeps for 3-4 days in the fridge and 1 month in the freezer.

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

Brand new finds

Buckwheat granola with frozen berries, atop overnight oats

I recently tried buckwheat groats / kasha for the first time. They are one of the most satisfyingly crunchy non-fried foods I have ever eaten. I had initially bought them to try as a grain substitute for savoury meals, but my search for recipes led me to a granola recipe instead. The thing that got me interested was a passage in the recipe description which favourably compared buckwheat granola to its oaty relative, which I have always found takes quite some time to chew and swallow. Being a very lazy person, sometimes I find myself lacking the energy to face a bowl of oat granola in the morning.

The recipe uses a mashed banana in place of some of the oil and sweetener that usually go into granola and I was unsure whether the flavour would be overwhelmingly banana-y. It ended up being pleasantly fruity and mild, but there is also the option to substitute it for another fruit/pumpkin puree or nut butter if that is what you prefer. I did find that my batch took longer than indicated to reach a proper deep, golden brown colour - I just continued to check it and give the mixture a stir every 5 minutes until the granola was uniformly browned.

I often snack on this granola on its own, and it also adds a delightful crunch sprinkled atop a bowl of overnight oats or yogurt.

Buckwheat granola
recipe from food52

2 cups of raw buckwheat groats 
2.5c add-ins (nuts, seeds, coconut flakes)
1tsp ground cinnamon
1tsp vanilla extract (the original recipe says ground ginger)
1 ripe banana, mashed
2Tb oil (if using coconut oil, make sure it is melted first)
2 Tb maple syrup or honey

1. Preheat oven to 170 degrees Celsius and line a baking tray with baking paper.
2. Stir together the buckwheat, add-ins and cinnamon in a large bowl.
3. Pour in the rest of the ingredients and stir well to combine.
4. Bake for 20-30 minutes, stirring once during this time. If needed, continue to bake for another 10-20 minutes (stirring every 5 minutes) until the mixture is uniformly golden brown.
5. Cool the mixture completely before transferring to an airtight container.

So far my batch has kept for 3 weeks (stored in a ziplock bag in a dark cupboard).


Friday, 18 September 2015

Bread, cream, honey



I was drawn in by the words again. This time it was this sentence:

"For some reason, today I imagined while getting up, cutting up a fresh flatbread and coat it with a thick layer of Kaymak and Honey."
-Insane in the Kitchen

There's something very lovely about it, and even though I didn't know what Kaymak was (a Turkish dairy product similar to clotted cream), the sentence definitely sounded like something I would want to make and eat.

The recipe that came with the sentence was also lovely, a soft dough fragrant with olive oil, only a single 45 minute proof, and the satisfying balance of using an egg white in the dough and its yolk as a glaze.

Being my imperfect self, I forgot to add the salt which resulted in an overly risen loaf, and living with a spice-averse family, I stuck to black sesame seeds rather than the traditional caraway topping.

Not having the 8 hours or so that is required to make kaymak, I decided to use my homemade creme fraiche as a stand-in spread, to accompany the drizzle of honey and sprinkle of salt that the sentence had me dreaming of.


This bread is just as delicious as I imagined, and I can't wait to make it again correctly. It would be the perfect thing to have as a centrepiece to a special breakfast, to accompany dips or soups, and keeps very well when sliced and frozen in airtight containers or bags - just defrost and turn them into toasted sandwiches.

Ramazan pidesi (Turkish flatbread)
straight from Insane in the Kitchen

3c flour
1 egg, separated
1Tb active yeast
2Tb sugar
1Tb salt
1/2c milk
1c water
2tsp olive oil
sesame and caraway seeds OR black sesame seeds for sprinkling

1. Heat the milk and water together in the microwave (in 30 second bursts) or in a small pot until it is very warm, almost uncomfortable to touch. Remove from the heat and stir in yeast and sugar. Leave for 10 minutes, until the top of the mixture has become thick and foamy.
2. Place flour and salt in a large bowl, add yeast mixture and egg white. Combine with a fork until you have a shaggy mass of dough, then start kneading. Continue until the dough springs back when indented with a finger.
3. Add olive oil and knead until it is incorporated.
4. Cover the bowl with a clean tea towel and leave somewhere warm for 45 minutes.
5. Cover a baking tray with baking paper. Preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius.
6. Punch down the dough, leave it to rest for 10 minutes, then roll the dough into a circle or oval, so that it just fits in your baking tray.
7. Place the dough on the baking tray and brush with the egg yolk. Sprinkle over seeds.
8. Bake for 25-30 minutes until the bread is a deep golden brown.

Let the bread cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes before slicing, unless you plan to eat all of it in one go.