With the recent bread shortage frenzy during Storm Emma, there has never been a better time to improve your skills in bread making. Thankfully, the Fumbally Stables is running sourdough workshops every month until July with a €10 discount for students. If you haven’t heard of the Fumbally Stables on the corner of Fumbally Lane and Clanbrassil St yet, you clearly aren’t hip. As a case in point, in the cafe before the workshop, I had possibly the nicest smashed avocado on sourdough that I’ve ever tasted – it was served with pickled red cabbage, toasted seeds and popped amaranth.
As someone who attempts to keep abreast of the Dublin food scene, I am not embarrassed to admit that I have attended the Fumbally’s Wednesday evening dinners on a number of occasions. These evenings are hugely popular, as each week a different chef puts together a different menu of tapas-style dishes based on local suppliers, seasonal availability and, of course, a dash of personal passion. Think of the Fumbally as the Happy Pear’s more elusive older brother – not as aggressive in its enthusiasm but equally committed to a sustainable, vegan lifestyle. In the most non-offensive way, the Fumbally, both in ethos and appearance, reminds me of a kind of community ranch that you would find in southern California.
The sourdough workshops are run by Manchán Magan, a writer and documentarian, who I recognised immediately from his column in the Irish Times Magazine. Sourdough is an ancient bread made from a mixture of flour and water. The yeast found in each grain of flour ferments over time when it comes into contact with warm water and the bacteria from the air, producing a slightly sour, tangy-tasting bread that is about as natural as you will get. There have been many reported benefits to eating sourdough bread beyond looking cool.
Prior to the workshop, I had baked one loaf of sourdough and, granted, this was at another sourdough workshop, so I am not sure that counts. All my previous attempts, more often than not, resulted in a warm, frisbee-shaped lump that could easily have broken a window, it was so incredibly dense. My mother’s sourdough experience amounted to buying the bags of flour that I subsequently turned into the aforementioned frisbee bread.
A highlight of the workshop is Magan himself – his sheer passion for sourdough and the science behind it is infectious. Indeed, it appeared at times like a struggle for him to keep his concentration in the room, and one could almost see his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. The class itself was made up of about 20 people of varying ages and, for the most part, we were perched on high stools surrounding a long concrete table. Over the course of two hours, Magan walked us through how to cultivate a starter (or mother), develop the dough and bake the bread. Though we did not get to make our own loaf given the time constraints, we did each make a jar of our own mother and thankfully there was plenty of “here’s one I prepared earlier” sourdoughs for us to taste. Throughout the class, each step was explained in detail and questions were welcomed. The two hours flew by due to the interactive nature of the class, as everyone was encouraged to try their hand at folding the dough before it was put in the oven. Each person was given a leaflet containing detailed written instructions on the various stages to take home.
A number of weeks on from the workshop, I have yet to make a loaf of sourdough. This is more a reflection of my hectic schedule than on the Fumbally workshop. However, to really get the most out of this class, you will need time on your hands, as one of the stages requires that you fold the dough every half hour for two hours, which realistically is precious time not many students will have. On the other hand, it is an extremely fulfilling process that only requires two ingredients.
