From Cloud to Cloud

After Lisa's husband got involved, she asked me to pay 2,000 rmb a month for the use of her cave-like home.

We both laughed when she said it.  No harm, no foul.  I started looking for a good commercial bakery location.

The Mah Jong Parlor



Thursday, May 17.

Today I work 1 to 9 pm.  Yesterday at Web Daniel said he’d help me look for a store front today.  He would come to my place after dropping off his son at school.  We had agreed to meet around 8 a.m.

I had set the cell-phone alarm for 7:45 am.  It hadn’t gone off by the time I woke.  It had been another rough night.  Every two hours awakened, read my Kindle until the eyes felt heavy, slept another couple hours only to awaken again.  I stretched and yawned, and felt like it must be time to get up.

As it turns out, I had carelessly set the alarm for 8:45.  My internal clock had gotten me up at 7:55, and I set about quickly washing my face and dressing.  I was grabbing a granola bar from the cupboard when the phone rang.  Daniel was patiently waiting in his car, reviewing his English lessons.

We walked around my neighborhood on DongFang Rd.  Up and down we walked, calling any cell phone number we found on shuttered shops.  The side of the street where my apartment is has been redeveloped in the past few years.  The opposite side of the narrow two-lane road is old.  I have often thought that those buildings would soon be scheduled for demolition and redevelopment into expensive apartments.  These old buildings stand between the Grand Canal to the north, and the spreading up scaling of the Hutang district.  On the southwest corner of my development’s block new shops are opening, keynoted by a sleek new Audi car dealership.  The first shop I showed Jane was a few doors down from that dealership.

That shop owner was asking 68,000 rmb a year for 45 sq meters.  Today we were looking at stores less than two football fields to the north, where the asking prices are a fraction of that.

While Daniel waited for me he took a quick survey of the shops just west of my complex’s north entrance.  Together we walked down the length of the east end.  The redevelopment ended with my building, which is on the northern edge of this complex.  Further east the store fronts were deep narrow dark caves, brown stucco and smoked gray.  One had six-inch spools of threads spilling out the door.  It seems to be a factory for spinning threads for the textile industry.  The many colored spools are loaded into gunny sacks, onto a blue three-wheeler electric cart and carried off.  Most of the other shops dealt with food of one sort or another.  Steamed bread, a muslim place with flat breads, a tiny grocery store.  There is also a mechanic’s shop for repairing ebikes and miscellaneous mechanical things.  Other shops were still shuttered at this early hour.

We wandered back towards my complex and the car; Daniel felt we had plumbed the depths of the neighborhood and come up empty.  I said I’d take him to see the ‘expensive’ place in the southwest corner, on the main avenues of Ren Min Rd and He Ping Rd.  We could leave the car and reach it on foot in a few minutes.

Before we got in the car I looked one last time towards the west, on the old side of the street.  I saw a blue shutter with a phone number on it.  I asked Daniel again if he had checked that end of the block.  He said he hadn’t noticed that place.

He read the sign and made the call.  The speaker said he’d be right down to show us the place.  It was a double-wide shop, over 50 sq meters.  We waited ten minutes, and then a tanned muscular fellow with a gold and green knitted shirt sporting racing car logos rode up on his motorcycle.  He had a deep voice that oozed testosterone.

He opened the two shutters and let us wander.  The first impression to hit the senses was stale tobacco.  Every surface was brown with tobacco stains.  The floor air conditioner in the corner was thick with it.  I fiddled with the grill to see if I could check the filter, but the front seemed rusted shut.  There were shiny new mah jong tables with chairs in rows, about eight or ten of them.  The room may have been square, but three square pillars across the width of it cut the space into two rectangles, front and back.  There is a small room with an air conditioner, suitable for a round dinner table and eight chairs at the right end of the back rectangle.  Beyond it a door led to the back.  A dark toilet stared at me, as I made a left turn into a narrow room leading to the back door.  In that narrow room a sink and counter space had been built from tile-faced bricks.  It was crumbling, chipped tile cracked cement stained porcelain sink crooked pipes.  Beyond it a step down led to an add-on room with plastic roof and an exterior door.  It measured perhaps 9 by 9 ft.  Perfect for receiving deliveries, but then, I had no idea what lie behind that door.  I know there is new construction just beginning west of this block, at the corner of He Ping Rd.  I had no idea what was directly behind this building.

Daniel interpreted now and again, as they engaged in conversation.  The asking price was 17,000 a year, he told us.  We could have a six month lease, or one year.  Wow, I thought.  Yes, it would take a major work force days to clean and paint.  I wondered how difficult it would be to find that paint that seals in odors.  The wiring seemed a mixture.  There were extension chords with power strips hanging from walls and snaking along the floor.  I observed four ceiling fans, coated black, and a small wall fan.  I flicked a switch and the blades began to lazily turn; I flicked it off again.

Then came the kicker.  This gentleman was not the owner.  He had entered into a lease in October.  A few months ago a new, cleaner and brighter mah jong room had opened a few doors down, and was now the place to go.  He needed out of the business.  He wanted me to give him 15,000.  I was stunned.  For what?  Daniel variously translated it, first as an improvement fee.  I would be paying him for the improvements he had made on the place.  Huh?  The only things that looked younger than six months were the mah jong tables.  Then later Daniel tapped into his phone dictionary and translated it as ‘transfer fee’.  He said that was a normal business practice.  I balked.

He wasn’t asking us for the money outright.  He said, if we just had it in our hands while he introduced us to the landlord, he would be satisfied.  If we closed the deal, we’d hand him that extortion money.  If not, we’d walk away with it.

While Daniel and he had talked, my imagination and I wandered about the place.  I saw it all, and it was perfect.  Just the space I needed for my bread factory.

I called Jane.  If indeed this was the right place, I needed to bring her in on it immediately.  I knew what her reaction would be.  It is filthy, it is in a working class neighborhood, it is totally unacceptable.  It took her a half hour to pull herself together and get to us.  She reacted as I knew she would.  But she saw how I glowed, and eventually agreed that we should at least consider it.  We said goodbye to the mah jong dealer and the three of us walked away.  Daniel had still not seen my beloved spot near the Audi dealership.  I was hoping our steps and conversation were leading us there, but we stopped at Jane’s car and got in.  She wanted to show us the spaces near her apartment, at the south edge of the huge Xin Tian Di park, not far from Web.

Altnernatives


We wandered those spaces.  We found a fruit shop that was willing to rent out their space.  It was 60 sq meters, including an upstairs room.  The upstairs room might have been adequate for a hermit’s life, with a toilet and large living room.  But the stairwell inhibited use of the ground level space, and I found it entirely too small.

Nor was it facing the road, Guan Dian Rd; it was in the back of the building, where there was no foot traffic.  For this they were asking only 30,000.

In the end, Daniel drove me home.  He told Jane he’d look at the shops right under Web.  Many of them were empty.

I had only enough time to make my lunch and rush off on my ebike to Web, for the start of a long working day.  My last class ended at 8:00.

I called Jane, and asked her if she was home, and if I could drop by.  She was pleased.  I had to talk to her about this man’s attempt at extortion.  She assured me that it was a common business practice, and also agreed with me that it wasn’t right.  I told her I thought I was paying him for being a bad business manager.

Tangled Investments--the Bali Coffee Ponzi


We talked again about the possibility of my getting my 50,000 back from the Bali Coffee investment.  I said I’d try to get a transaction history printed out, from the bank, to document Bali’s breach of contract.

And now, the unexpected


The next day Daniel came to Web to study.  He spent time looking around at the empty shops nearby in the immediate block.  I was busy with classes, but he called me to say that he had found something.  On Saturday he would show it to me.  This had always been the most obvious place for my shop.  The German Restaurant had recently opened on the third floor, bringing foreign foot traffic.  Web's clients were Chinese of the class that would be interested in trying new cultural experiences. But I had dismissed the possibility from the outset as being simply too expensive, out of my range.

Saturday came and almost went.  I started with a 10 a.m. class.  On my lunch hour I walked the length and breadth of the mall looking for the phone number Daniel had texted me, without success.  After that I was busy with one class after another, and never saw him arrive.  At 2:00 I had a free hour between classes, so I ran across the street to look at televisions.  Graham, in Shanghai, had emailed me earlier in the week saying he wanted his TV back.  I was addicted to the beautiful look of the flat screen tv, so I had to buy a replacement.  The landlady had supplied the flat with a TV, but it was thick and old fashioned and I could no longer be satisfied with a 19 inch screen.

Meeting old friends.  I intended to do comparison shopping at the three big stores right in the Web neighborhood.  But the first one I went into was the last.  As I wandered around the flat-screen displays, a salesman approached me and asked me, 'You're Megan, aren't you?'  No, I said.  He kept talking, and said at last that I had been his teacher at Mechatronics, my first year in Changzhou!  We talked about other students and what they were doing now.  Then back to the TVs.  He showed me the special of the week, selling for 3,500.  It was a Haier, a brand I know well as being reliable, with good customer service.  Oh, that was more than I wanted to pay.  Not to worry, he said, with a broad smile.  He gave it to me for 2,300 rmb.  And that was that.

I called Daniel, only to discover that he was actually at Web in the computer room, working on the courseware.  He said we’d meet at 5, and he’d show me the place.  He had ducked out to run a family errand, and it wasn’t until 6 pm that he finally returned.  It was a miserable rainy day.  We went downstairs and he showed me the place.  He spoke to the shopkeeper next door, and learned that the place had rented previously for 28,000 rmb.  He obtained a better phone number for the landlady and actually had a conversation with her.  During that, she asked him how much he wanted to pay for the place.  He said, 25,000.  She said OK.  He couldn't believe it!  He was rightly proud of himself, and wondering what if he had said a lower price.  Ah, human nature.

We then drove across the street and loaded the new TV into the car trunk, and Daniel drove me home.  On the way he called Jane, and talked about this new possibility.  He gave her the landlady’s phone number, and they agreed that Jane would call the woman and arrange a time to meet on Sunday.

What do I think of the new place?  I haven't looked inside yet, but from the front window it looks too small.  It is 50 sq meters, but no where near the usable space of the old dingy mah jong parlor on Dong Fang Rd.  Still, it had been used before for food service, and had a small kitchen behind a serving counter window.

On Friday during English Corner I discussed the latest events with the small group of regulars.  Jimmy told me that when it came time for the city’s sanitation inspection, I should tell him.  He is a city sanitation inspector, and would take care of it for me.  During the course of that hour he also let drop the information that his wife worked for the Security bureau.  This is the dreaded PSB.  Recently their responsibilities for foreigners had been transferred to the newly formed Foreign Affairs Office, but I imagined that there might still be an opening to get help on the precarious business visa application.

Things were falling into place.  I was eager to meet the landlady of this store front and actually have a walk-through.

Ebullient

May 5

Lisa collected me at 7 pm after I clocked out, and took me to her townhouse.  It is just a block away from where I am currently living.

Unlike other gated communities that have ornate and elegant architectures, these homes are square brick blocks, and attached.  Her unit is on the end, and so has a lot of windows and light.

It is three stories, and a garage basement.  She says it is over 300 square meters, but I don't know what that is in square feet.  I think they calculate the space differently, anyway, so that a straight conversion would not be an equivalency.  Bottom line:  it's big!

It was dusk when we got in her car and left Web.  By the time we parked and walked inside, night had fallen.  The house has no electricity.  The street lights shown through the abundant windows, and so I was able to get a general idea.

In China, when you buy an apartment the price you pay only includes an unfinished interior.  Then each homeowner pays for the styling and furnishing of the interior, from tiling the floors to finishing the walls, installing toilets, sinks, overhead lights, everything.  There is basic electric wiring and outlets provided, and closed off water pipes showing through the walls.

My first impression was, Do I want to throw my mattress down on bare concrete and camp out?

During the ride over and back, she kept rephrasing the same theme.  Start small, ship your goods out and sell them.  Don't open your doors to the public.  And I always answered, yes, that's my plan.

On the drive I asked her what her plans were for the house.  Why did she buy it?  She said that her present home was plenty big for now, for herself, her husband and their son.  But when their son is older they will need a bigger space.  Maybe in five years.  So, until then, this apartment will stay empty, unfinished.  An investment.

She dropped me off at my home, and I told her I'd get back to her on Monday.

I went to bed early and read a while.  In the background, my synapses were firing.  It took a while, but eventually I saw what she was offering me.  By morning, I had a new plan in place.

It won't make any difference to her if I have a plumber and electrician in to remodel the place to build my bakery kitchen on the ground floor.  When it comes time for her to occupy the house years from now, she can just pull out all my renovations.  Meanwhile, I was going to spend that money anyway renovating that store front I am enamored of.  But what I don't have to spend is the money for a year's lease.  She is giving me the space, no strings attached.  I'll just pay my expenses, my utility bills and such. That's an annual savings of $10,000!

And then, why not spend some money on the second floor, and make a living space for myself.  She graciously said she'd build the bathroom.  I need only buy a couch for myself, maybe a table for the TV.  An air conditioner will also be a must.  As for a kitchen, I can simply place my microwave and dishes down on the ground floor.  I'll buy an induction cooker for about $50, which is my preferred cooking stove anyway.

The new delineated plan:

1.  Buy the oven, proofing box, work bench, double stainless steel sink etc. Have it delivered to Lisa's place.

2.  Move my stuff out of my lease-expired apartment.

3.  Call in the electrician and plumber to install the equipment.

4.  While they're doing that, take a trip to Kangding to visit Angela.  It's time for a vacation.  While I'm there, pick up 10 or 20 kg of yak butter.  Maybe some barley, too.

5.  Finish up the contract with Web

I should have enough cash on hand to do all that, although if I fall short I can ask Jane to supplement, since she offered.  Somewhere in those steps 1 through 5 I will get my business license, and then apply for a business visa.

This morning Mike's reply to my email arrived.  I haven't had the whole thing translated, but basically he said he will support my bakery, by providing me with flour at a low price.  He is in Fujian this week so he can't come on Monday, but will the following week.  I will know how much flour to order by then, and ask that it be delivered on or around July 1.

So, I'm back in business!

This evening, Jane will meet me after work, we'll have dinner and then go for a walk around Xin Tian Di park.  It will be a relaxing evening, spent building relationships.

My basil seedlings have their second leaves.  I have picked out a spot, on Lisa's second story south-facing balcony, for my herb garden.  Soon I'll have fresh basil, dill and parsley to add to my breads.

A plot with more twists than a drunken pretzel

May 4

Shirley is one of my favorite Web students.  Thin as a stick, always expensively and tastefully dressed in soft pale colors, clomping down the hall with determined energy on spiked heals that look so uncomfortable.

She and her husband have built a successful trading company.  Their son is an adorable 6 year old.  She is a Fujian native, and had a successful business career in Shenzhen but gave it up to be a housewife and mother.  Her husband loves it when she spends his money on a lavish lifestyle.  They had a week's vacation in the Maldives, NOT traveling with a Chinese group.  He threw her a birthday party at a tony restaurant.  A table of ten for the women, another for the men.  The dishes served were exquisite, including a large dish five deep in whole crabs, a lobster platter, and a floral center piece of chopped ice attractively arranged with slices of sashimi.  I recognized salmon and tuna, but there was more.  When the meal was finished and we were saying goodbyes, she pressed a huge bouquet of pink roses on me.  She said she already had two at home.

The way they do these bouquets here is clever.  The stems are encased in a plastic water-filled sack.  A paper cuff is artfully wrapped around the large bouquet.  The effect is that they stand alone, you don't need a vase.

She is always disposed to grant my favors.  I try not to take advantage, but in a pinch she can be a lifesaver.  I pulled a frozen loaf of whole wheat sandwich bread from the freezer, and called her.

I had collected four phone numbers from the doors of the empty storefronts adjoining my complex, and facing the busy intersection.  She called each one for me.  She hit paydirt, and that is the 45 sq m place I now have my eye on.

English corner can be a trial, or a pleasure.  More often it's the latter.  Especially on slow afternoons, when only the old faithful show up.  This handful of students doesn't expect a dog-and-pony show.  They are content to just sit and chat about whatever is on our minds.  Too often, whatever is on MY mind.

One day like that, Shirley was there as was also Lisa.  Lisa is a little older than Shirley, but otherwise a similar story.  Personalities, though, are different.  Where Shirley is energetic and bubbly, self-deprecating and always quick with a smile, Lisa is more serious.  Her eyes are deep with thought and observation. While her wardrobe obviously doesn't come off the discount rack, the colors and styles are subdued.  We were talking about my business dream, and they were offering solid advice from their own experience being business owners in Changzhou.  I brought up the dilemma of having to move out of my flat at such an awkward time, when I want to quit Web and just bake.  Lisa, whose English is not nearly as good as Shirley's, turned to Shirley and said something.  Shirley translated.  Lisa has a townhouse she's not using.  I could bake on the ground floor, and live on the second floor.

A townhouse?  While the government has a plan to move 800 million people off the land, out of their one-family farm homes and into the life of a high-rise city dweller, the wealthy are building and buying these estate homes in gated communities.  They are jammed in close together, but they are one-family free-standing homes elegant.

Yesterday I ran into Shirley in the hallway.  She came and sat down with me.  'What do you need?' she asked.  What a dear.  It felt good to say 'nothing'.  I just wanted to bring her up to date, and also satisfy my curiosity as to why she seemed so busy lately, spending so little time with us.

A couple of weeks ago she had told me that her husband had given her permission to take a vacation with some of her old classmates.  Now she tells me that the other ladies are 'letting' her do all the travel arrangements, from booking the flights and hotels, to planning the touring itinerary in Yunnan.  And what's worse, the group of five has now grown to nine!  More keep asking to join them, too.  But Shirley has put her foot down; it already feels like she'll be traveling with a crowd.

I showed her the brochure from the Yunnan coffee company that will probably be supplying my coffee shop, if ever I have one, and suggested she contact them to inquire about a tour.  Her ladies would enjoy that, I think.  I mean, coffee is so IN, so trendy and hip.

As we chatted, she reminded me about Lisa's offer.  I asked if she thought Lisa was serious about it, and whether I could afford it.  Shirley assured me that the offer was good, and I would be a guest not a renter.

I saw Lisa shortly after that, and talked with her about it. We made a date to see the place after work on Friday.  That's today!

I mulled it over some more, and realized it would not be practical to put the professional baking equipment in her home.  It would require rewiring!  But it is not that far from where I live now, and where my desired location is, so I began to think about going ahead and renting the space right now, and beginning the remodeling of wiring and plumbing.  But I will hold off at least until I hear back from Mike.

So, maybe now my living situation is resolved.  Of course, her house is unfurnished, probably not even air conditioning.  But I'll deal with that when I have to.

Partnerships revisited

Wednesday I arrived at work late.  I hadn't slept well Tuesday night, my head filled with so many concerns.

The security guards at the gate had hooked me up with a landlord who showed me a studio apartment in the newest building of this complex.  Actually, 50 yards from the storefront I want to rent.  He was asking 1,500, the same I am now paying, for half the space.  The studio had no sofa, no room for a sofa.  Otherwise, it was really cute and brand new.

I should have clocked in at 10, but I knew my first class was at 11.  I don't like to time it so closely; I walked in the door at 11:01.  Grabbed the lesson and found the student.  At the moment, the wall clocks in the school are reading slow, so for the student I was just about on time.  Unless he looked at his cell phone, of course.

I gave him his 55 minutes, then went back to my desk.  Rena came and sat next to me, all concerned.  Not about my lateness..this is never an issue, if I get the job done.  Rather, she had some bad news.  Jane had decided that she just didn't have the confidence to go ahead with the coffee shop cum bakery.  But she felt bad, and assured me that she would still lend me a three-year interest free loan of 100,000 rmb, and help me get the license.  With this, plus my own money, I could afford to rent the 45 sq meter place near my flat, buy the equipment, and start a bakery.

After my long talk with Oliver Monday night, who is a long-time friend and business associate of Sophia's, I realized I had to send her an email to set her mind at ease.  I had taken care of that Tuesday.  She replied expressing great relief that we could still be friends, and admitted that Mike was miffed at her for botching our deal.

With this new wrinkle, it occurred to me to try once again to bring Mike back into the picture.  I wrote an email which Rena is translating for me.  I'll send it to both Mike and Sophia.  I would love it if Mike came from Suzhou to spend the day in Changzhou on my next day off.  I'd like to show him the location I'd decided on.  I politely asked if anyone would mind my bringing my own interpreter to the meeting.  What I am thinking is that I would love to finally sit down with Mike and pick his brain, without Sophia editorializing.

And my own thinking has matured.  Now I don't care what Mike wants to do with the shop.  All I want is a corner of my own in the kitchen, to work and experiment and develop my breads.  I no longer envision creating a space for ex pats to gather.  I'll ship the bread out to them, they don't need to come to me.

Wallace shared what he had done in Zhejiang, creating a restaurant using mostly student labor as he taught them how to create a business.  He had people buy VIP membership, and set a schedule for English corners for them, in a space at the restaurant.  I'll pitch that to Mike, if I get the chance to meet with him.

Learning the Principles

May 1, now with a freezer full of pretzel-shaped thingees.  Fodder for next week's first Book Club meeting.

As I studied my textbook (Peter Reinhart's 'The Baker's Apprentice') to try and figure out what I had done and what I can do with mis-proportioned biga, I had a real good homework assignment on my hands.

After heating up the keys of the calculator, I at last figured out that I had used way too much yeast.  The basic proportions for a loaf of bread are flour = 100, water = 60, salt = 2, and instant yeast somewhere around .66, for a total of 162.66%.  (The flour = 100%, TFW, or Total Flour Weight).  The author actually gives the yeast weight for fresh yeast, at 2%, then goes on to say that instant yeast actually weighs a third of fresh yeast.  A biga should use 2/3 water, 1/3 flour and half the yeast of the bread recipe you're using.  I used something like three times too much yeast!

This sad biga sat in the fridge for 24 hours while I labored over the books, the calculator and my incoherent notes. At one point it filled the bowl right up to the plastic wrap.  A few hours later it had collapsed a little.  That meant the yeast was running out of sugars to feed on.  It would die if I didn't feed it pretty soon.

I had a dinner date with Oliver.  We were meeting at six, at the new German restaurant upstairs from my Web training school.  Last year we never needed such a formal arrangement.  We shared a kitchen at our dormitory housing, as teachers at Changzhou University.  We often bumped into each other there, while one or the other of us, or both, were preparing a meal.  A quick trip into the kitchen for some hot water would turn into an hour long conversation.  We never ran out of things to talk about.  We both missed that companionship, so we were looking forward to this long leisurely get together.

I rode my ebike home, getting back after nine.  It had started to rain, but not until after we had digested our meal with a walk around the extensive Xin Tian Di park which adjoins that shopping center.

I sat down again with the books to decide what I would do with this sponge. (Any preferment is called a sponge, whether it's a poolish or a biga.)  Of course, I could have thrown it out and started afresh, no loss but for two cups of flour.  I saw this as a great learning opportunity, as mistakes tend to be our best teachers.

I pulled apart the ingredients I had used, figured them out proportionally, then looked for a recipe that could use them--especially the large amount of yeast.  I would build a recipe around the yeast.

I am not yet ready for a baguette or other french style, because I don't have the right shaped molds and this oven just isn't up to the misting required, nor the hot temperatures.

I looked for a pretzel recipe.  I was disappointed to discover in the 'Apprentice' index that Peter's only reference to pretzels is in the page on shaping instructions.  There was no recipe listed in the index.

Next I checked RLB's 'The Bread Bible'.  But she shapes her pretzel dough into little footballs.  ?  That doesn't help me for baking time or temp.

I fired up the computer and searched there.  All the recipes I found required molasses.  By now it was too late to add a sweetener, and besides, I don't have any molasses.

I took a side trip through Taobao and Alibaba, while I was at it, and discovered that I could order molasses online.  But not tonight.

I added the required flour, water and salt to a large bowl.  Adding a sweetener at this stage was too dubious for this apprentice.  I did not add anymore yeast!!  I did add as much bran as I dare, and I used the coarse bran not the fine-ground stuff. I added a cup or more of flour (precisely according to my calculations), which I felt would be enough food for the yeast to reawaken and feed upon.  I tried cutting the biga up into big pieces as I added it to larger bowl.  Peter says slice it, don't stretch it.  Had I been an octopus, I probably would have adhered to that detail quite nicely.  I worked the wet mass in the bowl.  It took a while to incorporate the new flour, bran and water.  I worked it with the scraper as long as I could, folding and pressing.  At last I had to work it by hand; it was quite sticky.  I worked it for a long time, all the while remembering about the big rough bran cutting through the delicate bubbles.  In the end the dough smoothed out, and I set it in an oiled bowl and covered it.

It did rise nicely.

Pretzels call for an alkyline wash, but I did find an online baker who makes his without the wash and swears they taste fine.  Pretzels also call for toppings, like kosher salt, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, and even cinnamon and sugar.

Well, I had the last of this list, so why not.  I missed out on getting molasses or any sugar into the dough proper, so why not augment the loss through a topping.

You know, I missed out on kindergarden.  My mother pushed me into the first grade.  (I've been ahead of my time ever since.)  I took the dough out of the bowl and started working with it, dividing it, shaping it.  This must be what kindergarden feels like; being creative with playdooh.

Most of what went into the oven looked pretty much like that, too, a child's first attempt with playdooh.

I dutifully brushed each 'pretzel' blob with an egg wash.  The instructions said egg and water.  So I beat up an egg and threw in a dash of water.  Enough?  Who knows.

I dipped most of them in a soup plate of crystal sugar and cinnamon.  That was a trip.  How to keep the pretzel shape while lifting it up, turning it upside down, and rolling it around the bottom of a dish?  The first mix was a tad too heavy on the cinnamon.  I replenished it with more sugar.

And some I left without topping.

 The dough, worked into a long strand. Twisted, washed with egg, and dipped in cinnamon sugar.

  The first ones were rather large, as I followed directions ('cut a piece 2 to 3 ounces').  As I went along I was cutting smaller and smaller pieces, which worked out better.

It was 1 a.m. when I finished.  I laid ten of the eleven into two plastic bags, and set them in the freezer.  A big juicy cinnamon sugar one I left out.  Now that ChuChu the Little Dickens is no longer a resident, I didn't have to worry about it getting eaten while I slept.

This morning I made a lovely cup of fresh-ground Yunnan French Roast coffee, and enjoyed the pretzel roll. The topping was delicious, if rather overwhelming; I could not taste the bread.  But, being one of the first of the batch, it was a large bun so I was able to attack it from beneath and find mouthfuls without sugar coating.

Of course, it doesn't have the taste of pretzel.  Still, a flavorful bread.  I will bring it to the Book Club meeting, and if I am industrious, will make some sour cream dips for the plain ones.

This afternoon I will go back to one of the restaurant equipment stores and write down prices on a long list of big equipment.  Like, work tables, cooling racks, proofing box, sinks, ovens.

I need a good oven!!!

second try at biga

April 30, the beginning of my 'weekend'.

Last night, after getting off work, I put together a biga.  I looked at my little notebook, where I've been recording the details of each batch.  I carelessly stopped at the most recent page that said 'biga' and measured out the flour, water and yeast listed there.  There were actually three column of figures; I assumed the right hand column was the biga.

Wrong.

Now I'm going to have to back calculate to figure out how to create a dough of some sort out of this biga.  This morning when I thumbed through the book, having had my doubts about what I had done, I found a more detailed notation about the proportions for the biga.  I used way too much flour for two loaves.

I had bumped into Rosemary and Richard after work on Friday.  They prattled on, as they do, and a lot of it was about the impossibility of getting good thick heavy whole-wheat bread here.  I said I would make them a loaf.  I felt challenged at the reference to 'thick and heavy' in the same sentence as 'whole wheat'.  Supposedly at the King Arthur class I took with Ruth back in 2009 I learned how to overcome that characteristic.

But first, clean house!!

The Ciabatta finish

April 29, evening


First attempt at ciabatta

First, I cannot get my oven hot enough.  Second, I tend to forget to spray, I am not getting enough steam in there.

After 20 minutes I took one loaf out and stuck it with the thermometer.  It took a few minutes to finally register, at 184 degrees. It must reach 205!

I put it back into the oven.

Also, Peter says it should have a hard crust, which will soften once it cools.  But the crust on this is not hard.  Nor is it turning golden brown.

The house is filling with the aroma of garlic.

The guard came back to the door at 9:48 a.m. to say that the owner of that flat is not renting.  So I don’t need to go looking at an apartment, at least not this morning.  Drat. They will keep their eye out, though, I know.

I wish we could rent the larger storefront here at Xin Cheng and just let me live in the back…

After 30 minutes of baking, the second loaf registers 185.5.  ???  I put it back in, they continue to bake.

The ciabatta should only bake for about 25 minutes.  But if indeed my oven doesn’t get hot enough, I hope that leaving it in a little longer will only bring positive results.

After 35 minutes of baking I removed the two loaves.  They came off the parchment easily, when I took each out to take its temperature.  In the end, the thermometer never registered over 185.  What does that mean?  Is the thermometer wrong, or is it possible that the loaves can be cooked at such a low temperature.

They are obviously cooked.

I had one of the pain a la with a fried egg for breakfast.  The rest I took to work.  I put a notice up on the Changzhou ex pat web site that there was bread free for the taking to anyone who came by the Web office.  But it is a rainy day; no takers.

Blake worked the early shift, and took one of the ciabattas home with him.  The other I nibbled at all afternoon, having had nothing else besides the egg breakfast but a bottle of yogurt.

At the end of the day, one little pain ala loaf is in the freezer, the other in the kitchen awaiting consumption tomorrow.

Pain a l' Ancienne, take two

April 29.  Somewhere around Aunt Pearl's birthday.  Resting with the angels, I salute you.

Friday night after work I mixed up a batter with the flour marked 'protein 13%'.  It did not say 'bread flour'.  I put it in the fridge.

This morning GiGi woke me up at 3:30.  She restlessly roams the house at night looking for ChuChu, calling out to her.  She takes me to the door, I open it, she walks out on the landing and sniffs, and listens, until someone in the building turns over in bed and she scurries back inside.  My heart aches, too, for our little wild child who has gone back to nature.

While I was up, I took the batter out of the fridge.  After all, last time it took a good four hours for the batter to wake up.

I got up at 7, and found the batter fully 'inflated' with bubbles.  By the time I assembled all I needed to work it, it seemed to me it had deflated a little.  My imagination?

I divided the batter in half as I removed it from the bowl.  At first I put the other half in the fridge, on a greased and floured parchment paper and covered with plastic wrap sprayed with oil.

As I started working the first batch, I remembered the final lines in the shaping-instructions paragraph.  This second batch, if left at room temperature for an hour or two, "would resemble and perform like ciabatta."  So I took it out again and let it sit while I shaped the first half.

This dough is pliable, not wet, not difficult to manage.  Remember, I used only 10.5 ozs of water, instead of the 11.8 or so on the previous batch.  The next try will use perhaps 11 ozs.  Different flours behave differently, so I can't make that a hard and fast rule.

It was easy to gently pull and shape it into three long pieces.  I let it rest five minutes, before shaping it.  It was a little sticky, I certainly needed the generous flour dusting on the board and on the plastic bench scraper, but it was much easier than the last time.  I scored the tops 'like for french baguettes'.  I poured the water into the hot pans, placed on the open rack close to the top burner.  Steam rose, but I probably lost it while I opened the door to put the shaped loaves in.  I probably should have added the water after the bread, but I was too nervous about dripping water on the bread.

I sprayed the walls three times, in 30 second intervals.

After 8 minutes I shone the flashlight through the glass door and observed that they were baking evenly, so I did not disturb them to turn them 180 degrees.  They baked a total of 20 minutes.  At the last I saw that they had not turned 'golden brown', so I removed the obstructing water pans from the top rack and switched the burners to 'broil' mode.  Just a couple of minutes did it.  The turned a nice color, and true to what Reinhart describes, little spots showed up where the sprayed water had reached the dough.

Second half of batter, 'Ciabatta'

After putting the first batch in the oven I went back to the text book and quickly read up on the ciabatta instructions.  I wasn't sure how the remaining batter was to come out like ciabatta.  I only saw one difference that I could include, which was to fold the dough over on itself.  But then it was supposed to go through a proofing stage after that, and another shaping and stretching.

I don't know what the heck I'm doing.  What is ciabatta?  I have no clear recollection of ever eating it, nor Pain a l'Ancienne for that matter.

So I took these two chunks of dough, and gently stretched and pulled them long and wide.  Then I sprinkled on them minced dried tomatoes, pressed garlic, and dried Italian herbs.  On one I also gently dropped beads of olive oil.  The other I left dry.  I then folded them, and put them on an oiled floured parchment.  I looked at the book again, and noticed that they should be shielded by a couche.  Well, too late now.  I folded up the parchment paper in between the two pieces.  This step is mean to shape them, let them get height instead of sprawling out, I guess.

Interruptions


A guard just knocked on my door.  He informed me that the apartment office had found an apartment to show me, if I still want to move.  I looked at the clock, and told him I'd be free in about 40 minutes.  So as soon as the 'ciabatta' is baked, I'll go see if I have a new place to live.

Into the oven


Too late, I noticed that my little rising buns were sitting naked to the air.  That's a no-no.  That allows a skin to form on the dough, which then prevents the dough from rising in the oven.  Belatedly, I laid on top of it the oiled plastic wrap that I had used earlier.

Although it does look like the dough is rising in this proofing stage, I don't have time to leave it any longer.  It has rested for less than an hour, after shaping.  And into the oven it goes!

Of course, writing this blog at this moment is a distraction, and Peter clearly warns that total focus is needed.  I forgot to do the second and third sprays!  Nor did I note the exact time the bread went in; I wish I had my timer back.  Angela inherited it when I left Guza in 2007, and I noticed she is still using it in her restaurant.

The bread is rising nicely.  I'll leave the results for the next blog.

Jane and I look at storefronts

Sunday, April 29

Jane picked me up after work yesterday at 5.  She was eager to show me a place, as was I.

The place she found has a lovely brick plaza or patio, protected from the street noise by a tall stand of oleander.  It is at the entrance to a large park.  The breeze was lovely.

The shop space was actually the 'basement' at ground level of an apartment building.  It was enclosed with a fancy wire mesh; no walls on two sides.  It was probably 120 sq meters, maybe more, with a stairwell in the middle leading up.  It would take tremendous remodeling to shape it into our bakery and cafe.  There were no water pipes, no drains.

The loveliest attribute is also its greatest disadvantage.  It would be difficult for foreigners to find it.  The avenue T's at this point.  There are no shops on the corners.  No landmarks.

She had not yet inquired about price.

Then we went to the place I described in yesterday's post.  She thought it too small.  I started chanting my mantra:  'Start small'.  For the Chinese mentality, it is less desirable to go to a place that holds 100 people and find ten, then to go to a place that holds eight people and find ten.  They follow the trends.  And maybe that's not just Chinese?  Well, at least until we have established our reputation, that is a truism.

She saw the tables extending outside from the front door.  I noticed that parking lines had been drawn only one car deep, and that was 20 yards away from where our outdoor patio would end, and adjoining the place where the green verge begins.

We both eyed the adjacent property.  It was 100 sq meters, with lots of glass and a kind of bay window.  She wrote down the phone number, and will try to contact the owner to make enquiries.

I learned that Jane's husband is a policeman, and that she 'owns' what sounds like either a landscaping company or a landscape architecture firm.  Couldn't tell by her description, with our limited language skills.  When we talk, we slip back and forth between Chinese and English, and often come to an end of words before ideas.

I brought her to my apartment to show her the spreadsheet I had drawn up.  She also saw the business plan, but could not read it.  We made a list of things we have to do, prioritizing them.  First, find a supplier for flour!!  I gave her Mike's phone number, while explaining the situation as I understand it.  Maybe he'll talk to her, maybe he won't.

She, of course, asked if I live alone.  And do I like living alone.  This is the common question in the minds of all Chinese, who hate living alone.  She thought it would be a good idea for me to move in with her parents, who also live in a posh apartment complex overlooking the lake at Xin Tian Di park, which stands between it and the Web office shopping center.

I actually considered it.  But then, if I quit Web and work full time in the business, and if we decide on my Xin Cheng location, it makes better sense for me to find another apartment in the complex where I live.

We then had dinner together, in a nice cafeteria style specialty shop serving different kinds of baozi, Chinese steamed and stuffed buns.  She ordered me radish buns, which were scrumptious.  It has been ages since I've had baozi, ever since I stopped eating meat again.  It's too difficult for me to order.  But she taught me how, and I can once again enjoy this typical Chinese food, during my lunch break at Web.
So far, so good.  

coffee; a cafe?

April 28.  Tomorrow I will go with Jane to look at properties.  She wants us to locate in the same shopping area where my Web school is, a brand new area that was still under construction when I first arrived in Changzhou in 2009.  There is a landmark TV tower (like a space needle) there, and a public plaza hosting events in good weather.  Lots of expensive restaurants and department stores surround the tower.

COFFEE

This incarnation of the culinary dream had Blake being responsible for the coffee.  Since Blake is no longer in the picture, I've had to consider what role coffee plays in the Plan.

A year ago I was saying to the Web students, in the English Corner, how I was wanting to find green coffee beans and roast them myself, grind them and brew FRESH coffee for their tasting pleasure.  I felt sure they would change their attitudes towards coffee if once they got a taste of real coffee, the naked bean so to speak. I knew the cost of importing an electric coffee roaster would be very, very high.  I hesitated, finding it hard to justify such an expense.

But the concept remains.

Angela and I Skyped recently, and chatted about our respective eateries.  She is now living in her restaurant in Tagong/Lhagong (Sichuan), and has customers this early in the season.

She gave me a useful lead, for finding good coffee.  She told me about a company called 'Chicago Coffee' in Hainan.  I googled it, and found a fellow there, Chris Alford, who considers himself a coffee aficionado and had a coffee shop there in Hainan.  His tastes tend more towards the espresso end.  Nevertheless, he was able to turn me on to a supplier of quality Yunnan beans.

The Ai.ni Company, in Kunming, sent me a sample of their three roasts.  The seal on the package gave a roasting date of three weeks earlier.  Still, the coffee ground up smoothly and brewed up with lovely flavors and aromas.  I think that with tender care I could achieve my ends with this coffee.

CAFE

I live three kilometers northwest of my school.  I am a quarter mile or less south of the main canal.  The canal is traversed via a long, landmark bridge that is beautifully lit at night. The intersection just south of my flat is a major intersection, served by 12 bus lines.  Construction adjoining my apartment complex has just been completed, providing empty storefronts facing this busy intersection.  China has a problem with over construction, so that often the ground floor storefronts stay vacant for a long time, literally years.  However, there is already an Audi dealership opened here.  This property is hot!  I found out that I can rent one of them, 45 square meters, for only 68,000 rmb/year.  This is amazingly cheap, and the owner can only guarantee that price for one year.   It is deep.  I imagine the bakery in the back 3/4 of the place, with a serving counter up front.  Perhaps another counter with stools facing the glass front.

But why not also put a barrier of flower planters extending out from the front door, with a few tables and benches out there.  It is southwest facing.  Can you see it?

These are my thoughts these days.  It is hard to contain my excitement.

Meet Jane

April 26, 2012

Yesterday I went to the WuYi office at my apartment complex, and said my lease would soon be up and was there another flat available.

They said they’d look around for me.

This morning I woke up and said my prayers, making a special request for clarity about my next step.  The lease is soon up, followed by the Web contract.  Mike and Sophia have abandoned the bakery business. Should I keep trying to do the bakery business on my own, now asking around among my Web students for another investor, or should I pack it in and go to Mexico.  Lord, show me the way.

I had a break at 3:00, no class scheduled.  Rena approached me and wanted to introduce me to someone.  Perfect timing!  I sat and talked with this woman, who, Rena said, was interested in hearing about my business.  Rena had filled her in, as I have talked a lot to her and the other tutors about the ups and downs of this thing.

This lady, Jane, has very limited English.  She is a recently new student here at the school.  She was wearing a dark business suit with a nice salmon silk blouse.  She asked me some questions, ending with ‘what would you like me to do?’

I laid out the moneys I’d need.  I illustrated it freely on the whiteboard, including diagramming the place I had found for 68,000, 45 sq m. transforming it into a bakery, with counter space in the front partitioning it off from the back.

I explained how it would work, that we needed 600,000 for the first year.  How I projected an income of 300,000.  She concluded from that that we only needed to raise 300,000.  It doesn’t work that way, though, does it?  She intelligently asked, what if we come to the end of our 300,000 and it isn’t enough.  What do we do then?

I didn’t know what answer she had in mind.  Find more investors?  What options did we have, I wondered.

And just how deep are her pockets, I wondered.

She asked me why I wanted to do this business.  What did I want out of it.  I told her the money didn’t interest me, so much as a) the joy of baking and creating something new, and b) being able to offer to the ex pats something of home that they really miss.  Good bread!

This seemed to resonate with her.  She too, she said, wasn’t focusing on the money side of it.  If true, this is refreshing.  So much of this culture is money driven!

Rena’s face was alight with joy and expectation, as she asked, is this what you were looking for?  I told her about starting the day with that prayer.  She said then, to one and all on staff, that Rena is now my Angel!  I heartily concurred.

Hope seems to have moved back onto the front burner.

pain a l'ancienne

Peter Reinhart says this is actually the easiest bread to make.  Or did he say simplest?  Hmm.  In some ways, yes.  It doesn't require kneadings and repeated risings.  But handling it requires skill, which I hope I can acquire with more experience.

First of all, I suspect I used too much water.  The directions called for from 9 to 12 ounces.  I used just under 12, thinking that a fresh flour absorbs more water.

So I dumped this coagulated fluid mass onto a well floured, parchment lined board.  I was supposed to roll it and gently pull and stretch it, being careful not to degas it.

I had halved the recipe.  Yet I saw that it all wouldn't fit in the small oven at once, so I cut the mass in half and put the remainder in the fridge until after the first batch baked.

I used huge quantities of flour.  It was a sticky mess.  The directions said to dip the scraper into ice water and gently divide the batter.  What a joke!  All that did was make the parchment paper a soggy mess, which then threatened to become mixed in with the batter.

Had I sprayed oil on the parchment it would not have stuck in the oven.  As it is, one batch had a parchment paper veneer.  But obviously I couldn't use oil while I was working the dough on the board, and moving it once it is shaped was, in this instance, impossible.

Eventually I got the batter divided into three pieces, and slid them, on their parchment paper, onto the awaiting hot stone in the oven.

I sprayed the walls with water.  Closed the door, waited 30 seconds, and sprayed again.  A third time, and then I left the bread to bake.  The instructions call for a 500 degree, even 550 if possible, oven.  Mine goes only to 230 C, which is about 450.  So I didn't bother to turn the temp down after ten minutes.  After 30 minutes I rotated the stone.

I had bought a thermometer on Taobao, but it is a candy thermometer, not the 'instant read' that Reinhart says to use.  I put it in the bread, then had to stand there with the oven door open and my hand burning while it slowly registered the interior temperature of the bread.  It never did get to 200 degrees, but I pulled the bread out anyway after 50 minutes.

Then I took the second batch out of the fridge.  This one responded a little better to handling, and actually rose nicely in the oven.  I forgot to do the spraying immediately, so it was a tad delayed.  Did this add to the dough's ability to rise?  Being in the not-hot-enough oven for five minutes without being molested, before the spray?  Did the spray do any good, after the skin had already been blasted with the hot dry heat?  All questions for further research.

Then comes the inevitable 'what will I do with this batch?'  I don't dare leave it with me.  If I eat everything I bake, I'll destroy this wonderful weight loss I'm experiencing.

When the small loaves were cooled I wrapped them in parchment and labeled each for delivery.

But it was time for lunch, and I needed some bread with my eggs.  So I ate one!

In spite of the appearance, it was actually quite good.  This recipe seems to be the basis for ciabatta and foccaccio, of which I am no officionado.  It is chewy, a tight crumb with large holes, and a light taste.  It uses no oil, making it lower in calorie than my sandwich bread.

Eaten on the first day, the crust is crunchy.  On the second day it has lost the crunch, but the chewiness is very satisfying.

I will try this one again, using a different flour.

I brought one of the pieces the same night to Dustin, the chef at the German restaurant upstairs from my Web English Training School.  He wasn't there, but I left it for him.

A few days later I went in to see him, and ask if he had received it.  He is a handsome young man, probably not thirty.  His English is charming, lots of mistakes, and a German accent.  He warmly took my handcocked his head and looked into my eyes with a smile.

That had been his day off. When he returned the next day he was handed the little parchment wrapped bundle.  He wondered who would be leaving him gifts, but he eventually figured it out; the bread lady.  He said it tasted good.  I asked how it compared to what he makes.  He said he does not make bread.

We chatted more about the perils of doing business in China.  He shared some wisdom from his experiences.

Wouldn't it be lovely if I could develop a line of breads that would satisfy his restaurant's needs, so that they would no longer have to obtain their breads from Shanghai.  Great publicity for my business, as well as a convenience for his family's.

Homesick

Good heavenly day, I actually had a visit with a relative!

My sister-in-law, Carol, was on a whirlwind factory tour to find suppliers for her sister's medical equipment company.

Just a week before the trip it looked like the tour might include my city.  But closer to the actual date, that got scratched.  It was all very last-minute, but finally we realized that she would spend her last day in Shanghai, and fly out the next day.

My company was not thrilled to get such late notice, only three days in advance to find a substitute teacher, but in the end they graciously allowed me the day off.

What can I say?  It was just wonderful to meet up with Carol at the Shanghai Hilton.  I took the bullet train down and back, an hour ride each way.  A short subway trip from the train station brought me to the hotel.  She was on a shopping spree with her niece, so while I waited I treated myself to a pizza and a glass of draught beer in the lobby bar/lounge.  It was wonderful!

I suggested we go for a massage down the block, which we did.  It is run by blind massage therapists.  But since Carol wanted a woman, hers was not sight impaired as far as we could tell.  Mine however, a man, was definitely blind.  They were both excellent.  Carol expected soft music.  I was glad there was no TV blaring.  It was quiet in our two-bed room, except for the chatter between the therapists.

We met Ken, the American coordinator for the trip, as he was leaving and we were returning.  We dined at the Hotel's Atrium restaurant.  Vegetarian lasagne!   I was in gustatory ecstasy; you have no idea.

And the wines!  I have developed a palate for Chinese wines, of which all the reds are Cabernet.  Out of necessity.  But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good imported wine.  Chardonnay, a Shiraz, oh my.

And most of all, talking to a dear friend.  Sharing from the heart, with someone who knows me and speaks my language.  Wow.  It doesn't get any better.

This week's bread

Peter Reinhart waxes eloquent about his pain a l'ancienne, so I decided to try it next.

It requires a cold mixing of the wheat, water and yeast, then a slow ferment.  Given the advances in chemistry and science, bakers can now deconstruct the whole process.  And so he explains that by using cold water the yeast is not awakened, but there is enzyme action going on with the starches in the flour.  After a day in the fridge, the batter is then set to room temperature to warm up for a few hours.  Slowly the yeast awakens, and starts to do its thing.  Meanwhile, new flavors have been released through the enzyme reaction.

I have the bowl sitting in the balcony, near the sun.  I am waiting for it to 'awaken'.  I fear that the yeast I used may be too old!!!  I have up til now scrupulously opened a new packet for each experiment.  Why did I not for this one?  Story of my life.

It has been warming up now for about 2 1/2 hours.  Bubbles are now forming, so the yeast is active.  It is supposed to fill the bowl when it is done.  Then I can bake it, without further kneading.  It should make long thin loaves like a baguette.

Meanwhile, I have pieces of fresh tomato slowing drying in the oven, so that I will have 'sun-dried tomatoes' to add to the next batch I do.

The end is near

I am so sad.  Sophia is insisting I give the remaining flour samples back.  She won't let me pay for them.  Like a thwarted ten year old wanting to end the game by taking his ball and going home.

I wish I could just chalk her behavior up to cultural differences, a typical Chinese misunderstanding.  But it is not that.  It is her personality.  I have been here long enough, have gotten close to enough Chinese friends to know this is not typical.

Of course, with scathing honesty I uploaded here the letter I wrote to her, which contains some harsh talk.  I wish I could be more Christian like, lie like a mat and let people use me to their own ends, and respond with a sweet smile.  My bad.  It is wrong to return hurt for hurt, I know that.

My apartment lease ends May 23.  My Web contract ends June 30.  I think it is time to pack up and head to Mexico.  What do you think?

April 23 Sharing a loaf with Chinese

I managed to produce a good quantity of bread last week, while trying two new things (a different flour, and a biga pre ferment).  What to do with it all?

The previous week, during Thursday night English corner, I presented to the large group the introduction written by Peter Reinhart in The Bread Baker's Apprentice.  The book had just arrived, and I was eager to read it, so I shared something of my excitement with them.

Peter describes reactions to bread tasting.  He explains about the five different types of taste buds spread across sections of the tongue.  He wrote the oohs, ahs, OH!s and the final WOW, as the flavors reached each section of the tongue.  I gave a dramatic reading, of course.  With a few minutes remaining in our hour, I asked the students if they had any questions or comments.

Yeah.  Where's the bread?  We want to taste it, too.

I saved one loaf of the biga batch for the following Thursday night.  As it turned out, another teacher had usurped my English corner time with a guest speaker from outside, who wanted to sell a summer English program.  So in the few minutes before the speaker entered, I cut and shared the loaf.  There were perhaps 25 adults there.  It was a sheer pleasure for me to watch them slowly chew, registering surprise and pleasure along the way, and reaching for seconds.

From the broken pullman loaf I was able to save a one-pound well-shaped loaf.  Wallace, a Canadian mulatto working here, had previously said he'd paid 20 rmb for such a loaf of bread.  I've been using imported butter in making these loaves, and its expensive.  So I wrapped a loaf for him and asked him to donate 10 rmb towards the butter.

The second, darker biga loaf I put in the freezer, as a gift to repay favors.  A few Chinese students and staff are always ready to help me when I ask.  I need to do something nice in return.

The other half of the pullman, misshapen and broken as you see it in the pic, seems to have disappeared!  I can't seem to account for it.  mmm yum

The second flour I chose was a hard spring wheat from the NE, from a big flour mill.  The taste is noticeably sour, the texture more firm.  It is the flour to use for artisan breads, whereas the other, the small grower's 'hard winter flour', seems best suited to the sandwich loaf.

Baked two batches today

Tuesday, yet another entry.

First batch: I set the bowl in the sunny balcony for the second rise, and when I retrieved it the dough was noticeably warmer. It took near

ly two hours for the second rise, as well.

When I shaped it, I failed to bring both ends to meet in the center. I folded them in, but not far enough. When I tried to get the bread out of the pan when it was done baking, it cracked into two loaves. It was in the long pullman pan.

It also stuck badly in one corner. It was a teflon pan, so I didn't grease it. I did line the bottom with paper. Next time I will grease the pans much more heavily. the next batch also stuck.

The taste was heartier and noticeably sour. This flour, a more expensive hard spring wheat, would do well in a hearty artisan bread with sun dried tomatoes and basil, or roasted onions and garlic.

the crumb on this loaf was too loose. The crust wanted to break off. I wouldn't call it dry, though. Maybe not as moist as last week's.

I started baking the loaf with the lid off, and a handful of ice cubes thrown on the bottom. Tried misting the sides, too, briefly. After ten minutes put the lid back on. Thirty minutes with it on, then I removed it again and switched off the top burner.

Second batch: This is the one with the biga. I warmed the butter up in the microwave on the lowest setting, but it melted anyway. I put together the dry ingredients--flour, salt, milk powder, yeast--and then added the butter. I mixed it in. The previous batch, where I cut the soft butter in with the wooden spooned, worked much better for even distribution. The end result of the liquid butter was tiny lumps of butter that was still there during the final

shaping.

After adding the butter, I cut or pulled the biga into about five big pieces, and added the rest of the water to the mix. It was not easy to mix it well. I finally used my hand. The batter was very wet and sticky. I kneaded it for about five minutes in the bowl, and got good results. I dumped it onto the floured board, covered it with the bowl and let it rest 20 minutes.

The weight of this one was even lighter than the previous one! 1159 gms

The rest of the risings went well. Finally, I shaped it into two loaves. I lightly greased the two pans. One was Teflon, the other was not. I covered the pans but for a crack, and let them rise in the shade in the balcony. I didn't see a significant rise, but I put them in the oven anyway after more than an hour.

They stuck to the pan as well, but as you can see they came out in good shape.

I baked them without lids and with steam for the first ten minutes, with the top burner on. Then 30 minutes with lid, then the last ten minutes without lids and with the top burner off.

I clearly remember that when I baked my loaves in Guza, with pans I brought from America, the bread pulled away from the sides and slipped easily out of the pans. These loaves are not doing that, and I don't know why.

I haven't cut into the bread made with the biga yet, and the same flour as last week's bread. Hold on, while I do that.

OK, I'm back. Wow! The crumb is excellent, firm yet light. The flavor is sweet, nutty. Nicer than the pullman loaf I baked this morning.

I'll have to give the NE hard spring wheat another try next week, with more water and better greased pans. Very different flavors. But can I bake a firm bread with it? Gotta give it another try.

The end. A difficult letter

This is the reply to Sophia, after she said she and Mike decided to pull out of the business.

If that is what you wish, fine. When I said '10%' it was to make you realize that we have not yet spoken in concrete details. It has always been 'according to the investment,' but we don't know how much money is needed!

After thinking more about it, I realized that what I hoped was that Mike, if he moved here, would have enough money to live on without needing money from the business, for a year. But if he is expecting to get income from the bakery in the first year, then yes, we have nothing to talk about. That is just not a good model to work with. Perhaps it is the Chinese way, perhaps it explains why so many businesses open and close so quickly. I have seen it so many times since 2001, businesses opening and closing in a year or less, that I can almost predict now, when I see a new business open, how long it will last.

You are still telling me that I don't know the bread market. It is not that we don't understand each other, it is that we have totally different ideas about a bakery. As I have said over and over again, there is no market out there for what I am creating. It is not surprising that you are uncomfortable with doing something different, out of the mold, out of the ordinary. I understand the Chinese culture deeply enough to find this totally predictable. If I let you two have a controlling interest in the business, I will be wasting my time. The end result will be just one more 85 degrees or Dasalea with one or two specialties. That's not what I want. Apparently, I know more than what you think I know.

It is disappointing the way you have manipulated this situation. You brought Mike in without explaining to me what you intended, then you cut him out by interpreting to him your own misunderstandings of the situation. This is all too unfortunate.

Sophia, I really didn't want to have this conversation by email, as I said in my last email. I hope you will not be upset with me. I think you are amazing, I really do. You are my friend, and I don't want this to interfere with that. Yes, I am disappointed that it might not work out, and I know you are too. But we should still have our friendship. You have great, dynamic energy that will bear great fruit one day. You are a unique person, and I appreciate that about you.

April 17 disappointing people

I've put off writing about this part. Cross-cultural communication is fraught with landmines. Sophia is not your average Chinese person, either. She is divorced, raising her teenaged son on her own. She makes her living as a middle or high school teacher (not clear which), and on the side she wheels and deals trying to act as a broker between supplier and customer. She has an eager, abrupt manner about her.

Tim thinks her English comprehension is not as good as you might think, though she seems to speak with fluency (and a difficult accent).

I answered her email. I told her I was surprised that she was asking me the same questions again, wanting me to tell her what Mike's and her roles were, and when we write the contract what portion of the business would belong to each of them. We had discussed all this together.

I repeated what I had said during our meeting, about how things were meant to progress, what unanswered questions we had which made it difficult to talk about each person's investment. I said I feared losing control of the concept, because they had told me I'd have to do it the Chinese way. I resist that. The concept is my intellectual property, therefore I should maintain a 50% control of the business.

I said I felt they were pressuring me, when I already had my hands full.

Finally I said to her, just to illustrate how she has not been forthcoming, that Mike's cut would be 10% and all rights to franchising. I added, I knew she'd probably think that was insulting. But again, I said I needed her to tell me what she and Mike thought was fair.

And what about Blake?

I also told her that we should not be negotiating these things by mail. We needed to meet face to face, and mostly I needed to talk with Mike. He and I have a lot to talk about, but it doesn't get done when Sophia is translating.

Her reply was long, and negative. She was disappointed. She called Mike and told him I only wanted to give him a 10% share, and the upshot was that they decided not to pursue the business further with me. Mike would still act as my flour supplier, however. She included his phone number.

I wrote back. I will copy that letter here, rather than trying to paraphrase it.

I wrote a letter directly to Mike. I had another friend translate it. I said I was sorry that Sophia had encouraged him to drop out of the business. I said I thought we still had a lot of talking to do. I explained, once again, my idea of how things would work. I'd train myself during the summer, then in the Fall expand the business. Depending on how things went during the summer, I would either expand the business still working out of my home, or rent a space in September. And without Blake, the coffee side would have to wait.

I explained that the business would not make profit in the first year, and that if he were interested in continuing his involvement he must understand that he would have to have his own income, apart from this business.

Now I wait to see if he will respond. I kind of hope he does, because I like him. But I don't know if he 'gets' my concept.

10:45 a.m. The first rise was done. Fingers pressed into it remained. I turned it out on the bread board, gently pressed it to degas, covered it with a towel and let it rest for five minutes. Then I flattened it further, gently, squaring it, and folded each side into the center. I put it back in the bowl. I don't yet have a thermometer, so I don't know the internal temperature. But it felt so cold to the touch, that I decided to sit it out on the balcony in the sun. I covered it with a light cloth to avoid direct rays.

what is a biga and poolish sponge?

Tuesday, my Sunday. Tomorrow, back to work at 10 a.m.

I started the sponge first. I mixed half the flour and yeast with all the water and honey. I beat it really well, to the smooth consistency of a thick pancake batter. Until now, I have then blanketed that with the remaining flour, a bit of milk powder, and the remaining yeast. I would let it ferment, as below, and then add in the oil/butter and salt when I was ready to begin the bake rising cycles.

Peter Reinhart doesn't use the blanket, so I tried it his way this time. Covered the bowl and let it ferment for four hours. It almost filled the bowl, with lots of big bubbles in it. I put it in the fridge overnight.

Around 2 p.m. Monday I mixed a biga. It was a bit of work, doing the math. Both books use different quantities. His is for a ciabatta, but I don't have a baking stone yet so I'm not doing that. RLB (The Bread Bible, Ruth Levy Beranbaum, 2003, WW Norton Publisher) just tells me the percentages. So I had to break it all down, then I used Reinhart's instructions which were more convenient to follow.

A biga is a small dough, using proper flour and water mixtures to get a dough. It has more flexibility in using it; it can be used after 12 hours or within three days. It is then cut up into big chunks and added to the rest of the bread recipe. After I mixed it I put it in a bowl and let it rise at room temperature for 4 hours. I put it in the balcony, but the cats (ChuChu, the little dickens) didn't molest it.

The reason for using either of these is to develop flavor. This is where my experiments get interesting. Which of the flour samples I'm working will yield the 'nicest' flavor. The sponge or biga is the way to draw out that flavor.

The sponge mixture has been completed and is going through its first rise. I measured out the flour, yeast, milk powder and salt and mixed it well. Then I cut the butter into the flour using a wooden spoon. Last, I poured the bubbly sponge into the bowl and started mixing. I was a bit concerned, because I held back about 20 grams on the water. The sponge mix seemed wet enough without it. Now I was worried it would be too dry.

I mixed the wet and dry mix together in the bowl with a wooden spoon, then switched to my hand in order to get the butter worked in fully. The instructions call for putting it out on the floured board to knead for five minutes, but I did it in the bowl. It was pretty sticky, but not really wet.

Since I'm using bran and germ, I was anxious not to overwork it. I had taken a one-day class in whole grains at King Arthur's Bakery in Vermont. The instructor said the key to getting a good rise out of a whole grain dough is by working it minimally. The more you work it, the more the rough bran cuts the gluten strands that are essential to height.

I waited only ten minutes. Had it been a wetter dough, I would have rested it twenty minutes before dumping the dough on the board for the first knead. I did more squeezing and patting then folding and twisting, kneading it less than five minutes. It rested while I washed out the bowl and greased it. Then, using the bench scraper to help lift it, I put the dough into the greased bowl. I flipped the dough once, covered the bowl with saran wrap, and put it in a covered storage tub (cat-proofed). It should take 1 1/2 to 2 hours to fill the bowl

Again, I felt that the volume was larger than what I remember when using the local flour.

RLB says the weight at this stage should be 1258 gms. My dough weighs 1191. I suspect the difference is in the bran and wheat germ, which is lighter than flour.

The biga is in a plastic jar with lid, in the fridge. It has expanded and fills the container now. As I have only one large glass bowl, it will wait until the other dough gets into the baking pan. Then I'll start the second loaf. Argh! and I'll have to do the math again.

April 16, breakfast

Today Mom would turn 99, had she not passed away 7 years ago. Happy birthday, Mom.

A day off! It has been a long week, for some reason. I am exhausted. I finished work at 9, bought some fruit on the way home, and got home just before ten. I tried quickly to get ready for bed, because I had planned with a friend in Italy to Skype around 10. I went online while I was still changing into my jammies, when the Skype melody chirped. Good thing it wasn't a video call!

He is thinking of coming to work in China, so he updated me on that. Not looking good.

Shortly after we hung up, Tim Skyped. He lives about 40 minutes north, here in this city. He is a talker, has been here about a month, from New York City. Another call came in about ten minutes into our conversation.

I had tried to call Deb, in Saudi Arabia, after my talk with Michael in Italy, but she wasn't on line. I left her a note on Skype. She called me back! I don't know how to do the 'call hold' thing you do on phones when another call comes in, so I just added her to my call with Tim! He got the message, and went off to do his dishes while I talked with her; he hung up.

Deb's father has cancer, is terminal, so she is spending her summer break in Texas with the folks. She needed to talk about it. But it was time for prayer in Riyadh, so the reception was bad. She said that usually happened at prayer time. Our call was dropped and reconnected a few times before we decided to just end it.

I called Tim back, and he kept me on the line for 1 1/4 hour. It was past 1 a.m. when I finally broke off the conversation.

On the one hand, I needed my sleep. On the other hand, I desperately needed to talk with other westerners.

I stayed in bed this morning until 8, though I woke at 6:30. Tired, but it's a new day. So, to treat myself, I made a special breakfast.

It may not sound special to you people with American kitchens, but I can guarantee you that the average ex pat living here would drool with longing.

I made pancakes. Big, fluffy big-holed pancakes. I used fresh unstarched runny lumpy yogurt (sweetened, since I didn't make it myself) instead of milk. I thinned it with a little milk in the end. Fresh butter, cinnamon and a grating of fresh nutmeg. They came out thick and fluffy. I drizzled a little honey on top, then spread them with fresh crushed strawberries that I bought the night before. Just-picked Changzhou strawberries.

I ground some coffee beans (not the freshest, but they had a decent taste, Blue Mountain) to wash down the pancakes.

I was thinking, maybe this could be a way to thank my Chinese helpers once I'm in business. For those who won't accept payment for their information-gathering services. Have a special breakfast gathering once in a while on Sundays, and serve them western treats like that.

OK, time to get moving. I'll experiment with a biga today. Usually I do a poolish sponge for my bread flavor. A biga sounds so much more practical, so I'll see what it's like to make one and use it. More on that, and the breakup, next time.

Bakery April 15 night, all falling apart

My business plan is falling apart. Blake is a flake. A sweet kid, a dreamer. Turns out he doesn't have any hard cash, only about as much as me. There are some ifs attached to further supplies of his cash, as with mine. IF I sell my house in Florida, I could bankroll this business by myself. IF his father sells the business office cleaning business, he'll have $30,000. IF he can broker a rice deal he'll reap $30,000 (but he hasn't put any cash into the deal, so it is suspect)

While I am busy doing research and studying up for the bread making, and also asking my adult students to help gather information necessary for my pro forma business sheet part of the Business Plan, I'm needing someone to do the same for the coffee side of it. He's not doing anything except dreaming.

Without an ex pat partner, I really don't think I can pull it off. Meanwhile, I've managed to alienate the two Chinese people who wanted to 'help' with the business. Actually, they felt more like vultures, flapping their wings around my head while I'm trying to make forward progress.

I'm exhausted, going to bed. More on the break-up tomorrow, when I'm fresh.

Bakery April 15 headache full of options

Just realize I have to date things, to help the reader find the sequence of events.

Got an email from Sophia. We met last Tuesday, and yet this email sounds like we never had that discussion! She's still asking me what I want Mike's role to be, and what I want her role to be. Quite frankly, I don't see that I need either of them just yet. I do need Mike to be my flour supplier, but in this email her remark was something like, how could you just expect him to supply you with flour, taking his profit share, after all he's done for you.

All he's done for me? So who asked him.

I want to write a professional Business Plan. I need hard data. How much does a license cost? Insurance? What kind of licenses and permits do I need? How much will rent be? How many employees will I need to pay? Will I have to register them with the government and pay payroll tax?

This is what I need Sophia and Mike's help with, but they are not offering this help. Mike is far away, in Suzhou, and Sophia works full time.

On the other hands, I talk with my students often. Most are business people of one sort or another. One lady offered to be my accountant. She and her husband own a factory. So I asked her these same questions, as above. she researched and came back with ballpark figures, which are much much lower than I had feared. She said it was not common for businesses to take out insurance!! And that payroll taxes were not a consideration. Nuff said about that.

You don't run a business in China like in the States. The comparisons give the feeling of a free-for-all environment here.

If I want to serve food, it gets complicated. But it sounds like if I don't actually COOK on premises it's easier. I'm thinking, I need to serve sandwiches so that people will have an excuse to sample the breads. But why not just cold cuts and cheeses? No cooking involved, no special 'sewage disposal' for which a permit would be needed. Of course, cold cuts are not common here.

I spoke with Angela in Tagong, whose daughter Somtso recently had a birthday which brought back memories of her home delivery in Kangding. She said she can supply me with fresh yak butter, which I have consumed lots of and attest that it will work admirably in the breads. That would save me lots of money. Otherwise I'd be using imported butter. The Chinese butter available in the supermarket is low quality, with (people say) additives.

So why not also Yak meat? Why couldn't I get choice pieces of yak and make roast beef. I'd cook it at home and bring it into the shop.

Next, if I could figure out how to smoke chicken, or maybe honey bake? That would be my second choice for cold cuts.

And then there are cheeses, and I'm sure I could concoct some yummy veggie sandwiches with sprouts and things.

Actually, there are sliced meats available at the Fresh Market. There's a vendor who sells roast duck, and chicken, and parts, and spiced meats. These are usually cold dishes, I think, that one takes home for the family table. I wonder if I could get away with serving one or two of their selections. But not at the price they charge! I'd have to figure out how to get it wholesale.

I'm feeling down in the dumps. As the Bible says, 'hope deferred makes the heart sick.' I want to jump forward in time, in the middle of my baking kitchen.

Instead, I have to be moved by May 23 to a new apartment. My work contract runs until June 30, so I have only one day a week to bake.

Meanwhile, I hear that there is a good bread shop up in Xin Bei (north Changzhou, almost an hour bus ride from here) across from Starbucks. Why didn't I hear about this sooner? Is it serious competition?

Two nights ago during my dinner break I ate at a new German restaurant that opened upstairs from my workplace. I met a short large American woman dressed in black, who introduced herself as 'Prof. Williams'. She caught my attention because what snatches of conversation I heard sounded like she knew about starting a business.

Turns out she works at one of the two-year colleges, next door to the one I worked for when I first arrived in Changzhou. Doing the same work I did, teaching conversation English. Her business card says MBA, but not PhD.

In our brief conversation she said she is exploring the possibility of opening a coffee shop! She has not been in Changzhou for long, and I think she hasn't been in China longer than that. Which gives me the edge.

All of which puts more pressure on me, to get up and running as quickly as possible and as carefully planned as possible. Thank heaven I have my Web (my employer) students to guide me through the business process. I wish Mike spoke English, because I think he could really help out a lot.

If only he would give me assurance that he is self-supporting, and would be willing to take a minority share in the profits. He has dreams of creating a franchise brand. I'd gladly give him majority ownership in that, should it come to that. But for now, I absolutely have to have creative control.

On the plus side, my bread book arrived from Amazon. The Bread Baker's Apprentice. Mastering the art of extraordinary bread, by Peter Reinhart. This will be my summer crash course in artisan bread baking.

I've been up since six. Doing the night shift today, finishing at 9. It's going to be a looong day.