Welcome, we've arrived at newsletter No. 25! Good to have you here.
If you’re reading this, chances are you’re already a subscriber, a fellow follower of all that is exciting and engaging about the world of baking, from whole grains to seasonal fruit and flavour-forward ingredients.
If this is your first time here, you can expect musings, commentary, ideas and inspiration concerning the act and art of baking, including its more esoteric bits and pieces.
No bones about it; biscuits are my ballast. A foundational form in which I love to explore the interaction of ingredients; grain, butter, sugar, salt, an occasional egg. A very British thing, a revelatory thing; ask someone what their favourite biscuit is, and you begin peeling away their layers, lifting the edges and searching deeper, like seeking out your favourite in the box of Family Circle.
Baking and sharing biscuits is joy enough in and of itself, but this is just one half of the story; the other half is equally as exciting to me, informing in ways that extend beyond a recipe and a product.
The act of baking is critically an agricultural one. Whilst wheat may not be the only cereal you’ll interact with as a baker or consumer of baked goods, it is the most likely one, ranking number three behind maize and rice as one of just three crops that contribute 60% of calories consumed globally by humans.
Diversity within the varieties of these crops is essential if we continue to consume them as global staples. But who chooses that diversity? Who is or should be responsible for which varieties do and do not grow?
Will high-yielding crops always reign supreme? Do they have to? What traits are required for wheat to grow well in organic farming systems? Do certain varieties increase positive markers for biodiversity and soil health? Can these metrics be considered more valuable than yield?
These complex questions have even more difficult answers and possibly, at this moment, no suitably future-proof answers at all. This vast problem-solving is a task for the many, not the few. Key stakeholders include farmers, agronomists, plant breeders and policymakers but also you, the baker and the consumer.
Faced with any opportunity to get on the farm, back to where the ingredients come from is one anyone interested in food and the future of it should jump at. And that is how I found myself on a three-hour train ride with a suitcase full of biscuits that would be tasted fieldside by these key stakeholders at the annual NOCC.
The biscuits were made with nine different wheat flours from varieties that form part of the LiveWheat Legacy, a follow on from the original LiveWheat trial, designed to explore winter wheat, a crop that is less well adapted to organic farming systems here in the UK. Experimental on-farm trials such as these are essential in learning more about how different varieties perform on farms; they provide an understanding of best practices and allow for an exchange of knowledge between the key stakeholders involved. Results inform recommended lists of wheat to grow based on traits useful in specific environments.
The flours had been milled on Green Acres Farm from wheat grown there by Mark & Liz Lea. They ranged from a landrace wheat (Hen Gymro) and the early modern, long-strawed Maris Widgeon right through to the more modern short-straw varieties of Extase, Nelson and Mayflower, and the most progressive YQ Population wheat. I used a simple sablé biscuit formula to make as identical as possible batches of biscuits with the different flours. Mark milled all flours to be as whole as possible with only the coarsest bran and chaff removed.
After a tour of the trial plots and with a view of the crops, we set about a blind taste test of the biscuits. Would the performance in the field match the performance on the palate? Could I coax qualitative information on aroma, taste and texture before the lot was scoffed?
Would the results confirm or refute my inbuilt bias? My prejudice against certain varieties had been palpable as I mixed, shaped and baked them. I glanced lovingly at the landrace, the population and the euphonious-sounding Mayflower and Maris. I winced and tutted at the ugly, harsh and sensorily dull-sounding Apex and Extase. I was sure they would taste much like they sounded.
You may be thinking…how much can a person say about a biscuit, just a simple, unassuming biscuit, never mind nine of what perceptively appear to be the same biscuit. This was my worry, too; I was ready for enthusiastic ‘mmmm’s’ and a consensus that the biscuits tasted nice; they were biscuits, after all. But would we garner anything more than that?
If not, we would be engaging farmers in tasting what they grow, connecting dots and establishing direct communication between those who grow wheat and those who use it. That in itself was a big enough win.
Thankfully biscuits can be relied upon to be notoriously good fuel for thinking, proven to aid the brain when wading through even the most arduous or compelling task, from tax returns to weekly newsletters.
And what was shared as folks snaffled sablés at the field side was a beautiful and broad vocabulary of words for the flavour, taste and textures they were experiencing. To my delight, we were able to move past the overused to the more imaginative and descriptive words, a clear sign that people could indeed taste a difference and that despite the butter, sugar, salt and egg, the wheats themselves were lending varying amounts of perceivably different flavours to the biscuits.
Descriptors were called out and recorded, and once we moved past nutty, caramel and malt, we were on to oaty, hay, fermented grass, farmyard, barn, cream, coconut and rice pudding.
The results confirmed what was hoped, the Hen Gymro sneaked a margin, with most people reporting it as their favourite; it was often chosen as the most flavourful with a pleasing texture, brown butter and hazelnut notes.
It was closely followed by Maris Widgeon and Mayflower, both designated favourites by an equal number of people. The flavour descriptors attributed to each of these were wildly different. Many commented on Maris's more complex and rich flavour, with notes of caramel and toast. The sweet cream notes of Mayflower were popular and comforting, with comments that it was reminiscent of coconut and rice pudding.
Extase and Apex placed in top spots for some people but didn’t generate any notably exciting, visceral responses or comments. Nelson, Siskin and YQ received more comments regarding texture, enjoyed for their ‘biscuity’ quality and short crumb.
Of course, the tasting portion of this experiment followed no strict scientific protocol, but that wasn’t necessarily the point. The outcomes reflected the immeasurable benefits of engaging and conversing directly with everyone involved in the decision-making around what is grown and why. Understanding the pressure and the risks that farmers face and supporting them in the right way is ever more important if we are to encourage diversity back onto farms, into bakeries and onto plates.
If you’re feeling inspired to hold your own wheat-tasting session through the medium of biscuits, then give the following recipe a go and let me know how you get on. I might add that nine varieties was a bit of a feat, especially when keeping track of the labelling, and was somewhat fatiguing to the palate. A more modest sample of three varieties is a good place to start.
I’d love to hear which varieties you try out wherever you are and any wild descriptors for aroma, flavour or texture you and your tasters come up with.