Recently, I had the pleasure of sitting in on most of a session on pumpernickel bread, led by food historian William Rubel (williamrubel.com). I missed some of the history as I was listening in from work over my lunch hour and kept getting interrupted. I look forward to seeing his write-up soon.
I did catch the bits about it being recorded from the 1700s or possibly the 1600s), and seen as coarse peasant food that was very good for the bowels. Somehow by the 1900s it had switched to being the base for very fancy open-faced sandwiches. Perhaps the switch was also related to its effect on the bowels, as ideas about what constitutes healthy food began to change? All I can say is that my bread was extremely filling!
William’s aim was to try and get as black a bread as possible, using only the simplest ingredients. That meant coarsest ground rye flour, malted whole grains of rye, water, and possibly some starter and/or grated pumpernickel from a previous loaf. The original loaves were often baked in huge batches in wooden pans over very long heat for many hours. The bread doesn’t rise much and the pans have covers to keep the moisture in.
Using William’s baker’s math and the fact the rye flour I could find came in 1 pound packages, here’s what I used:
Ingredients
- 1 pound rye flour
- 45 grams sourdough starter
- 520 grams water just off the boil
- 174 grams lightly malted rye grains (used for making blonde beers, from my local brewing supply shop)
William suggested you could start with all the water and half the flour, let it ferment for twelve hours and then add the rest of the ingredients and ferment it for a bit more before baking. I added all my flour at the same time and let it ferment for the day, then added the remaining ingredients and let it ferment overnight.
For heat, William suggested baking at somewhere between 285-330F in his initial post. Later, he dropped that lower temperature following new information. As a result, I started mine at 310F for three hours using a metal loaf pan lined with parchment paper and covered with aluminum foil.
It had barely started to change colour so I dropped the temperature to 170 with the intention of letting it bake overnight. I chickened out and turned off the oven after an hour and restarted it at 310 the next morning for another eight hours.
When I finally took it out, it was very dark brown but not coal black. The top was getting crusty and once it had cooled it was hard to cut (though the centre was still soft). this tracks fairly well with the historic records of it being chopped with an axe!
The flavour was delightful – every bit as sweet as William had promised.
I have more flour and rye grains, and even a bit of the last loaf so will be trying the recipe again. I have ordered myself a Pullman loaf pan with a lid, which should help keep even more moisture in. Next time, I will try with only half the flour and all the water to start, and I’ll drop the temperature even lower, likely into the range of 265, and for a longer period.
Leave a comment