Best Bread Ever With Homemade Flour

The Day the Kitchen Went Nuclear

I'd ordered some grain online from Priors Mill — an old hard red wheat called Edelmann, the sort that's supposed to cope well with our daft British weather. Lovely idea in theory. I'd treat myself to milling my own flour, feel terribly self-sufficient, and save a few pennies into the bargain.

What I hadn't accounted for was doing it on the hottest afternoon of the week, with it already a sweltering 38 degrees outside.

I switched the mill on, and within minutes it sounded like I'd installed a small jet engine on the kitchen worktop. The noise was so bad that Iris and Fern came thundering downstairs convinced I was drilling through the wall. I had to shout over the racket to explain that no, I hadn't taken up DIY demolition, I was just making flour, thank you very much.

Then I checked the temperature gauge. Thirty-eight outside. Fifty-six on the mill. I stood there watching it grind away, fully expecting to see a little mushroom cloud rise up over the breadbin. I had visions of explaining to the fire brigade that I'd caused a meltdown trying to make a loaf of bread. "Cause of incident: ambition, and a cheap milling machine."

An hour later, sweating more than the wheat probably was, I had exactly 545 grams of my own flour. Soft, pale, and smelling absolutely wonderful. I felt like I'd struck gold, if gold came in small dusty bags and nearly cooked your kitchen worktop.

Saturday's Big Bake

Come Saturday, baking day as always, I made my usual batch of cobs and a loaf, but kept a bit of the homemade flour back for one final batch.

I was a bit worried, truth be told. I half expected them to come out heavy enough to use as doorstops. Homemade flour can be a funny old thing — not always as forgiving as the bagged stuff from the shop. But they proved up nicely, just a touch smaller than the others, and baked up looking every bit as good as their shop-flour cousins. A bit more wholegrain in character, which suited them rather well.

That evening, Iris, Fern and I sat down for tea and had one each, fresh and still slightly warm. I'll be honest with you, they were excellent. Properly excellent. The kind of bread that makes you go quiet for a second because you're too busy chewing happily to talk. Iris declared them "actually really good, Dad," which from a teenager is about as close to a standing ovation as you'll get. I will absolutely be milling my own flour again — once the kitchen's cooled down and stopped looking nervously at the mill.

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If anyone fancies the recipe, just say the word in the comments and I'll get it written up properly.

What We're Up to on the Plot This Week

With the heat we've had, watering's been the main job, and not the gentle sort either. Anything in pots or newly planted needs a proper soak in the early morning or evening, not a quick splash at midday when it'll just evaporate before it's done any good. Courgettes and beans are drinking like they've got a bar tab, so they've had priority over most things, including, I suspect, my own dignity, since I'm still recovering from the Great Hosepipe Dispute with the committee.

Mulching's been a lifesaver too. A good layer of grass clippings or compost round the base of thirsty plants keeps the moisture in and saves you trekking back and forth with the watering can quite so often. If you're growing on heavy clay like ours in Lincolnshire, it also stops the soil baking into something resembling a roof tile by August.

Flowers Putting On a Proper Show

The marigolds and calendula are still going strong, doing their best impression of a sunset along the border. They don't seem to mind the heat one bit, unlike their gardener. A bit of deadheading every few days keeps them flowering for weeks longer, and they're brilliant for pollinators too, which makes the allotment buzz in more ways than one.

I've been trying to get a decent photograph of them in that lovely golden evening light, with mixed results. My photography skills are roughly on par with my engineering skills when it comes to milling machines — enthusiastic, but not always entirely successful.

A Frugal Little Victory

Cost-wise, milling your own flour isn't going to make you rich, but it's a nice little frugal win, especially if you're already into baking and preserving.  its more about whats not in the flour you produce. no chemicals and most importantly no bleaching. A bag of decent grain goes a long way, and there's something rather satisfying about a loaf made entirely by your own hand, start to finish, even if the kitchen did briefly resemble a science experiment.

So there we have it. Bread that nearly cost me my kitchen, flowers that don't care about the heat, and two teenagers convinced their dad had taken up drilling as a hobby.

Have you ever tried milling your own flour, or am I the only one daft enough to risk a meltdown for a bread roll? Let me know in the comments.

Happy growing, everyone. See you on the plot.