Playing with Fire (While Baking)
After a month and a half away, I found myself returning to Waltershausen to intern at another bakery. This one, however, bakes a majority of their products with an old wood-fired oven. We had discussed such ovens in the master baker training program, but I had yet to see one in the wild. Hearing that there was a bakery nearby where I could possibly participate, I immediately signed up for a week internship.
The owner is a whimsical lady in her 50s who suggested that I show up around 5 AM on the first day, when things are a bit calmer. As usual, I made my introductions and quickly discovered who was going to give me a hard time due to my “lack of real experience.” With that out of the way, I became familiar with their products and processes.
The large oven looked similar to many other bakeries. In fact, many of the other bakeries where I had interned used ovens that were converted from wood-fired to gas after the wall came down and conversion to gas was affordable. However, the effort to heat this oven involved more than flipping a switch.
We had buckets used to transport bricks of coal from the garage into the bakery. We also use trash accumulated from sacks and cartons to burn in the oven. It was dirty, but did not smell terribly. The process involved a large fire around 3 AM, which would heat the oven to about 300°C. There would then be a second fire set around 6 AM, which would maintain the heat around 230°C.
The temperature in the oven did not drop quickly. In fact, when we heated the oven the next morning, the temperature was still around 180°C in that oven.
For Day 2, I was asked to arrive at 4 AM as I could get more involved with throwing the loaves in the oven. During this time, I got to know the baker’s father, who used to run the bakery, but handed it over to his daughter and picks the jobs that he enjoys – namely, manning the oven.
This guy had many stories and loved to chat. He would handle each loaf that went into the oven as well as placed and cut each individual roll on his peel. I had never worked at a bakery where they did not use large trays for baking bread rolls.
We chatted about politics and life and women. It was very much a discussion with a grandpa where I could only shake my head and concentrate on not rolling my eyes. He was funny, but was always trying to make a point.
After I told him a bit about my home, he excitedly told me that he knows all about Wisconsin. As it happens, he had an uncle who had lived in the US in the ’70s. The uncle would send back Viewfinder slideshows to the family back in East Germany. He still had all of them and wanted me to spend the evening with them.
So, he lent me a Viewfinder and about 50 round slide things. And sure enough, I found slides covering the United States. What I found fascinating is that one featured Florida, two featured Washington D.C., one featured Chicago, and three were about Wisconsin! No wonder he felt he knew about where I was from. The pictures were obviously outdated, but things I had never seen before. For example, there were pictures of the stock yards in Chicago and the Braves Stadium in Milwaukee. I decided not to flip through the cartoon ones. Fascinating assignment.
One days 3 through 5, I was invited to come in at 3 AM to help start the initial fire and make their Mischbrot (a mixture of rye and wheat flours). I saw their process for making and maintaining their sourdough as well as where they felt the need to use some chemical help. (Generally, they did very well staying away from improvers; better than most.)
It was on these days that I was helping to weigh out the dough for the bread. At each and every internship, time is of the essence. So I attempted to work frantically, but the older baker kept reinforcing slowly, calmly. Apparently, he was in no rush.
At the same time, he had a catchphrase to imply that we should keep on keeping on: “Immer weiter, auf dem Hühnerleiter” (tr., keep going on the chicken ladder). I still hear that phrase in my head. My inference is that the chicken ladder is short and shitty, but he insists on keep on keeping on.
On my final day, I was invited to reheat the oven given all the knowledge that I had gained throughout the week. I jumped at the opportunity. I like setting fires…
I have a very nice burn on my forearm as a remembrance of my time shoveling coal into an oven.
Finally, the owner had me working with her on some cakes that were ordered. Although we did not make our own pudding and then buttercream, we were able to create some good looking cakes. She had baked and extra sponge and had some leftover buttercream, so she invited me to create something for the bakery to sell by the slice.
I was happy with it, she was happy with it, but that one token guy said it would not sell, and the customers would complain that it was too hard to transport. I will not miss him. And despite him, the internship was a success. I got some good insights on yeast and salt, as well as the sought-after experience with wood-fired ovens.
