Biga is better

Yes, yes: It's another bloody bread-making post. This weekend's labour of loaves? Ciabatta. Yet another laborious, multipart, doughy extravaganza. This time, however, I didn't use sourdough starter or beer as the raising agent, but a biga. This odd confection starts off life as a rather firm, somewhat clumpy blend of flour, water, and yeast.



12 hours in the fridge transforms it into a squidgy, chilly mass, ready to be transformed into the crusty ciabatta we know and love.



First, you pull the biga apart into little clumps, add pasta flour, water, and a touch more yeast, and smoosh it all together. This is a lot of fun -- a bit like making mud pies as a child, but distinctly more fragrant.



Rest, "knead" (as far as you can knead something with the texture of porridge), rest, repeat. Then, I didn't so much shape it, as scrape it off my hands and let it ooze, like malevolent primordial gloop, across the baking sheet.



The final step is to wait, anxiously, as it bakes. At the moment, it has puffed up to quite extraordinary heights -- the long development time and weird kneading process has obviously paid off. And it smells fabulous. I wish blogger had a smellorama function so that you could experience this with me!

And it was well worth the effort -- just look at that crumb! Don't you agree?