Skip to main content

The Best Scoring Tool for Artisan Bread

I bake the best baguettes in town at El Fidel Restaurant in Las Vegas, NM.

They are the best in part because I use a high-hydration dough, which gives them super oven spring, and a wonderful, chewy, gelatinous crumb with lots of big holes.

The downside of a high-hydration dough, though, is that it is difficult to work with and nearly impossible to score. It is, forgive the indelicacy, like trying to score a wet snot.

I had been using a baker's lame for this. The lame is basically a razor blade on a stick. I was dipping the blade in water before every cut and STILL had a devil of a time, as the dough would stick, hang up on the blade, and the cuts were very shallow even when I used the best technique.

But then I saw in an online bread forum the mention of the ultimate bread-scoring tool. It is a Pure Komachi II tomato knife. Serrated razor-sharp blade, non-stick coating, comes with its own little plastic sheath and costs less than six bux.

I have used the knife twice now for scoring baguettes, and it is a massive improvement over the lame. My cuts are deeper, I don't need to dip in water, and the dough never sticks on the blade.

This knife is my new favorite thing! If you need a dynamite bread scoring tool, you won't regret buying this. You can click Pure Komachi 2 Series Tomato/Cheese Knife to order.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Chicos and Beans!

Chicos and Beans, Ese! They go together like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. But what ARE they, and why are they so good? Chicos are as far as I know an ingredient peculiar to northeastern New Mexico. Chicos are sweet corn which is roasted in an outdoor wood-fired adobe oven called an Horno (pronounced or-no, as rhyming with “porno,” but don't make that association with the older generation.) The result is that the corn is preserved, but it keeps its sweetness and the sugars in the corn are caramelized, resulting in a wonderful, distinctive flavor. It is best to buy them from someone who has roasted them, as one never really knows how old the ones in the stores may be. Just like beans, if they are more than a year old, you have to cook them forever to make them tender. The classic winter repast of chicos and beans is about the sweetness of the ingredients and how they harmonize with each other. The chicos provide the sweetness of roasted corn, the smoked ham hocks provide the swe

Oregano de la Sierra

One of the culinary herbs peculiar to this region is Oregano de la Sierra. It is used in place of oregano in the local cuisine. It is not oregano. The latin name for this plant is Monarda Menthefolium, and it is a variety of bee balm. It does have a flavor reminiscent of oregano with a bit of mint. It is a beautiful plant. It is normally foraged in the mountainous areas, hence its name, which translates as "oregano of the mountains."Those who enjoy word play will note that the word "oregano" itself derives from the Greek "ganos" meaning brightness or ornament, and "oros" meaning mountains. So cross-culturally, "oregano de la sierra" means "ornament of the mountains of the mountains." The photo at right is of oregano de la sierra growing in my back yard. It is drought-hardy and likes filtered shade. As you may guess, being a bee balm, bees love it, so it doesn't just feed you, it feeds our little friends as well. If you wan

Machaca

OK, the recipe I will share with you is NOT the original, real deal machaca. In common parlance, machaca has come to be a reference to shredded beef cooked in the Mexican style. It is similar to the Cuban dish, ropa vieja (old rags, a reference to the appearance of shredded beef.) The original machaca was more of a reconstituted beef jerky. In rural Mexico, there weren't any refrigerators back in the day. So beef would often be preserved by drying. Slabs of the stuff would be sprinkled with lime juice, salted, and hung out to dry in the hot sun and wind. When completely dried, the beef would, texturally, have more in common with a wood plank than with something you would eat. So the cook would grab a machaca, a fist size rock, and the dried beef would then be machacado, that is, literally, beaten, pummeled, smashed, until the fibers of meat would seperate and the resulting fluff would be cooked with tomatoes, onions, chiles, etc, and sometimes scrambled up with eggs. If y