Dan Lepard is what you'd call a renaissance baker. Not only is he at the forefront of the British bread revival, he believes that although taste is paramount, so must the texture and appearance be top-notch. Here, he talks about the nerves he suffered as a trainee for one of London's best chefs, and offers top baking tips.
Dan's five essential recipes featured in the November issue of delicious. magazine, but we love him so much we asked him to write a little something for delicious. online.
Dan Lepard
The jar of raspberry puree slipped from my fingers and hit the tiled floor, smashing into Lord knows how many pieces and spattering blood-red up every wall and surface. This was my first day, my first hour even, at Alastair Little's kitchen in London's Soho back in the early '90s. Alastair ran quickly over to where I crouched by the larder fridge, grabbing a bunch of damp kitchen cloths from the sink on the way, and said very quietly and calmly: "The only thing you need to worry about is where the broken glass has gone." He appeared to shrug off the time and cost of it all.
The rest of the afternoon was spent meticulously cleaning the inside of the fridge and floor until I ached, and then helping the pastry chef stay late to remake the sauce. I'd been drawn to working in the kitchen by the thought of handling extraordinary ingredients, as supermarkets then were pretty grim places and the only chance you'd have of finding, say, vanilla beans, blood oranges, polenta and all that now-ordinary stuff was to work in a top chef's kitchen. But this was the first vivid moment that told me that a chef's first job and, perhaps, only concern was to prepare food that would nourish and satisfy the people who ate it. Without fear of choking on a shard of glass.
Those first few lessons a teacher gives you can stick in your mind. Each day I was reminded that the care and concern we give even common humble ingredients is just as important as quality or provenance, and today I'd probably say more so. There isn't really much point in sourcing the finest stoneground organic flour, or an heirloom plum, if we don't know how to care for it. I'd like to say that I learned this at home but really it was the chefs I worked with. When I asked: "Why cook apricots with the stone in?" I'd get told: "The pip in the stone contains a bitter flavour that enhances the flavour of the fruit." I'd ask questions endlessly, so now when Zoe - my fabulous, talented work experience student - bombards me with queries I think: "You're on the right path."
It's getting on for twenty years since then, and if I can be as patient and knowledgeable as the bakers and chefs who taught me then I'm heading the right way. Now when I teach breadmaking classes, like the one at the
Cookery School in Little Portland Street London, I probably spend almost as much time listening as talking (though I can talk for England). Though there are always a list of steps I want to explain, and a timetable we try to keep to so that the sourdough loaves pop out perfectly at the end of the class, it's all about answering questions and creating an atmosphere like Alastair did; one where mistakes may not be what anyone wants but are at least something to learn from.
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top baking tipsRead more about Dan Lepard on his
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