Pretzel Logic - Recap

In 610AD, Alton says, a kindly monk near the city of Aosta in the Italian Alps wanted to reward children for learning their prayers. He wandered into the monastery’s kitchen and there he spied a scrap of dough that strangely resembled the arms of a praying child. He sprinkled that with salt, a symbol of purity, and slid it into the oven. He dubbed this creation a pretiola, meaning “little reward.” It was a big hit. Too bad, Alton finishes, he only had the one (animated children swarm the animated monk).

Today, Alton sits in a cramped aircraft seat pondering what the pretzel has become: chiefly, it seems to him, a punishment for flying commercial. It’s something else on which we’ve dropped our standards. (Alton flicks a tiny hard pretzel at another passenger, eliciting a yelp of surprise.) Oh, there remain places where the pretzel gets respect, like Bavaria, but... at this point the stewardess interrupts to inform the passengers that the plane is descending to Philadelphia, and to ask them to sit down and turn off their electrical gear... NOW!

Philadelphians, Alton continues, eat twelve times the national average number of pretzels – and if you tasted the local twist, you’d understand why. (Alton begins amusing himself by decorating his sleeping row mate with pretzels – ear, hair, collar...) Sometimes, Alton admits, he visits Philly just for the pretzels. But those who can’t make that trip need not despair, for with a little know-how, some sound science and a handful of good ingredients you can make your own perfectly... The stewardess interrupts Alton’s monologue, asking shrilly about his camera and reminding him that he was to turn off electronic devices. She reaches towards it... and the Good Eats theme plays.

Alton strolls a Philadelphia street, noting sadly that most of the great American street foods have vanished: oysters, waffles, ice cream penny licks... But the pretzel remains. Alton’s not talking about hard pretzels, but the big, soft and salty kind. While it’s true that parts of Pennsylvania prefer their pretzels hard and crunchy, Alton regards the soft pretzel as the perfect pretzel. The exterior should be brown, glossy and smooth and the salt should stand proud. The bread inside should be chewy, warm and inviting. And while the shape no longer reflects prayer posture, it is perfect for munching on the go. Alton opens his briefcase and has the pretzel cart vendor fill it.

Back in his kitchen Alton displays a pretzel under a magnifier. Its grain is fine but irregular, and it is elastic but chewy. That means only one thing: yeast. A yeast puppet appears and belches loudly, prompting Alton to wonder if that’s all it does. Grimacing, it concentrates and >POP!< there are suddenly two puppets! Cell division – very impressive (but Alton’s rolled eyes tell us he’s not as impressed as he pretends).

Viewers, Alton quickly adds, now believe he’s broken out the sock puppets again, when there’s no need – because they already know everything there is to know about yeast. In that case, he challenges, perhaps it is time for a game of “Yeastopedia!”

Alton jogs onto a glittery pink 1970s game show styled set. Reading from cards, he asks questions about yeasts. The answers reveal that yeasts are fungi (not bacteria or molds). Their species name, saccharomyces cerevisiae means “sweet beer mold” (saccharomyces from the Greek “sweet mold” and “cerevisiae” from the Latin “from beer”). Fermentation is the process in which yeast consume sugar and produce carbon dioxide and ethanol. And finally: in a horror film yeast would play the roles of mummies, zombies, and tribbles! They start out dry (like mummies), then reanimate (like zombies) and begin to breed rapidly (like tribbles).

Science taught, Alton moves to the baking. He’s decided to adapt an old bagel recipe that he thinks will yield the same pretzel texture he saw under his magnifier. He starts by melting unsalted butter and heating water to about 115° F. He adds sugar, salt, and a package of active dry yeast to the warm water. Meanwhile, he puts flour to his stand mixer bowl, and then adds the yeast/water slurry and melted butter to that. He’ll use “Captain Hook” (his dough hook) to mix this at low speed until it comes together, then he’ll increase the speed to medium for four or five minutes – that mingles the water with wheat proteins glutenin and gliadin, to form the elastic net called gluten. This net can trap the gaseous emissions of the yeast – it is what makes risen dough possible. After five minutes, Alton’s dough is a nice ball, smooth and satiny on the outside. He retrieves it and spritzes the mixer bowl with non-stick spray and then returns the dough to the bowl, covering it with a tea towel. As this dough rises, it will get sticky, so the spray offers insurance. Finally, he stashes the bowl somewhere warm (around 70º F will do) for an hour or so.

Returning, Alton discovers his dough has doubled in size and is ready for the next phase. But first he runs down a short checklist to make sure he’s ready for the next phase. He sets his oven to 450º F and arranges his hardware: a dough cutter, scale (digital preferred), spritzing bottle (Alton’s has a dinosaur head, but yours need not be that cool). Alton adds latex gloves, a long ruler, two moist tea towels and two sheet pans lined with parchment, lightly lubed.

Alton’s goal is eight portions. Since he starts with 36oz of dough, that means 4.5oz portions, which is where the digital scale comes in handy. Once he has divided his dough, he squishes each ball into a rectangle and then rolls that into a tube. He pushes away with pressure and pulls back lightly, starting with one hand and adding the other when the strand of dough gets long enough. Alton cautions cooks to watch for a twist between them – this means the two hands aren’t coordinated. Since the strand may break at the twist, Alton watches carefully to avoid it. When his strand of dough is 24” long, it’s ready to become a pretzel. He folds each end back over the middle to form the traditional shape and lightly presses the ends where they join. Firm pressure is unnecessary here. Then he moves the completed pretzel to the pan and covers it with a towel, spritzing the towel to keep everything moist until he finishes the other seven. One can make a pretzel in any desired shape, but the traditional choice works best for most people.

There’s just one more ingredient. Alton regards “baldies” – traditional pretzels made without salt – as cruel jokes perpetrated by bitter bakers! A proper pretzel must have salt. There are three choices: old school (large crystals), kosher (too small) and “new school” salt. Makers of “new school” salt compress small salt crystals into cakes and break these into larger pieces. The result is nice sized white grain that looks good on the pretzel, crunches easily and spreads salty flavor through the mouth. Alton chooses “new school” salt, which he advises viewers to find in larger grocery stores or from an internet vendor. Salt in hand, Alton returns to his pretzels, where he sprinkles them with salt. Well, some of it should stick... maybe... With some salt on them, they’re ready for the hotbox: 450º F for 14 minutes, with a spin halfway through.

Alton’s baked pretzels have the right kind of bread inside, but the salt falls off and they lack that lovely caramel colored exterior. Alton ponders what to do about that. An avocado drops from the ceiling – sure, they brown quickly, but smearing the pretzels with “proto-guac” isn’t the right answer. A can of paint flies in from the side – high-gloss brown. Nope! Caramelization is the answer. But how to achieve it? Sugar? No, that would add an unpleasant flavor. Thing appears with a small torch, suggesting a crème brûlée approach, but... no. Alton thinks the answer lies in pH.

Of all the concepts on the ladder of culinary enlightenment, pH (the concentration of positively or negatively charged hydrogen atoms in a solution) is one of the toughest, especially for cooks like Alton. Apparently, Alton’s high school exposure to the concept involved a lot of vacant staring... Luckily, there are models.

Solutions containing an equal number of positively and negatively charged hydrogen atoms have a pH of 7 – right in the middle. As the number of positively charged atoms drops, solutions display characteristics of acids, and the pH drops. Examples include milk (6), black coffee (5), orange juice (4), vinegar (3), lemon juice (2), human stomach acid (1) and battery acid (never Good Eats). On the other side of the scale are alkali solutions. Edible alkali solutions are less common. Examples of alkali solutions include egg whites (8), baking soda (9), antacid (10), ammonia (11), bleach (12), and lye (13).

Alton lifts the bottle of lye to show the death’s head on it. This skull and crossbones doesn’t mean Johnny Depp gets a piece of every bottle sold, it means the lye is very poisonous. It’s also essential for making soap, as any Fight Club fan knows – whoops! Alton realizes he just broke the first rule. Beside soap, lye helps make really great pretzels. Dipping pretzels in a weak lye solution breaks surface proteins into small peptide chains that brown readily, giving the pretzel a rich color and nutty flavor without the hardening associated with the Maillard reactions. Alton dons heavy gloves and goggles and... here comes his legal team, Itchy and Twitchy! They hand Alton paper after paper. Alton protests that he’s showing safe use of lye. Finally, they hand Alton a paper and he starts to read “reckless endangerment” and he has had enough. Lye is off the table. What does that leave? Bleach? No. Ammonia? No. They are as dangerous and smell worse! Ground antacid? No, that would add a disagreeable flavor. That leaves baking soda. Perhaps, Alton muses, he can improve the effectiveness of baking soda with heat!

Alton adds baking soda to a wide saucepan of boiling water. Pretzels go into this bath two at a time for thirty seconds. The hot alkaline water somewhat recreates the effect of a weak lye bath, gelatinizing the surface starches and fragmenting the surface proteins. For even better browning, Alton dilutes an egg yolk with a little water – one yolk is sufficient for the entire batch of pretzels. This sticky wash also helps salt adhere. The same baking technique now produces noticeably darker surfaced pretzels. Alton and several “Bavarians” enjoy his pretzels as part of a traditional Bavarian breakfast that includes sausage and beer.

Some folks like their pretzels thin and hard. Alton uses the same basic recipe, but leaves out the eggs and adds more water. This time he divides his dough into thirty-six equal pieces (each about an ounce) and rolls these out thinner, until they’re fourteen or fifteen inches long. They bake on pans prepared the same way (Alton estimates four such pans) for fifty-five minutes or so, until golden brown.

But Alton likes his pretzel big, soft, and with plenty of mustard. He reaches for the jar – and it’s empty! Back to the kitchen, then, to build a mustard. The mustard plant is related to Brussels sprouts, broccoli and cabbage, and like them contains volatile phytochemicals. These chemicals are most concentrated in the seeds. Crush these sees in the presence of water and they’ll release isothiocyanates, which create a special kind of heat that the cook can control. Once ground and mixed with water, the heat builds until it reaches a sinus roasting peak in about fifteen minutes. Addition of vinegar immediately halts this process, allowing the cook control over the flavor.

Alton gathers mustard seeds (lighter colors are milder) and some dry mustard powder for body. He also collects light brown sugar, kosher salt, tumeric, paprika and garlic powder. He starts with the seeds and a spice grinder; when the seeds are ground, he adds them to the rest of the dry team. Then he adds some water, cider vinegar and sweet pickle juice (right from the jar) and stirs to combine before sliding the bowl into the microwave. Once it heats and the solids hydrate, Alton removes the bowl. Since he added the vinegar immediately this will be mild mustard. Cooks may experiment with adding the vinegar after adding the water, but be careful! Alton reminds viewers that the same chemicals in there were responsible for the first modern chemical weapon: mustard gas. Once the mustard has heated, Alton applies his stick blender until the mixture is a smooth paste. It will thicken still more as it cools, but Alton tries it just as it is – nice.

Back on the plane, the stewardess asks Alton if he wants a pretzel, but he declines – he brought one from home. She stalks off, tossing a “whatever” over her shoulder. In the grand scheme of things, making one’s own soft pretzels isn’t such a big deal – but if we raise expectations here, then perhaps other facets of life will follow. Indeed, other passengers begin to complain about the coffee, their blankets, and their headphones as Alton signs off chuckling, promising to return next time..


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