Adapted from My Bread: The Revolutionary no-work, no-knead Method by Jim Lahey

Many years ago I made the silly decision to swear off bread. I’d like to say this had something to do with an effort at eating more healthfully, but the truth is it was driven by the simple desire to firm up my stomach—a goal I understood to be attainable if I laid off foods made from flour (and if I did a lot of crunches). And so for much of my late 20s I resolutely said no to baguettes and bagels, to pasta and pretzels, all in an attempt to transform my midsection into that totem of male vanity: the six-pack. Gradually, though, it began to dawn on me that not only was I refusing many of the things that make life worth living, but my body hadn’t really changed that much (if it had at all). Which in a way was a good thing, because once I realized I was never going to look like David Beckham in my underwear, I was suddenly free to welcome carbs back into my life—a realization I was grateful to have embraced as I sampled the rye bread presented here. It’s a surprisingly easy recipe, one of many to be found in Jim Lahey’s bread-making cookbook, My Bread, and, more importantly, one that produces a loaf as good as any bakery’s. In other words, if ever there was an occasion to celebrate the glory of gluten, this is it.

I say “surprisingly easy” because I’d always operated under the assumption that bread making requires a variety of special skills, not to mention equipment. Disproving that idea was clearly one of Lahey’s goals in writing the book—this despite the fact that he’s the force behind one of New York City’s best-loved bread resources, The Sullivan Street Bakery. (Then again, what more potent symbol of generosity is there than a shared loaf of bread?) So instead of some complex kneading technique or fancy bread machine, Lahey reveals that a few very basic ingredients (namely flour, water, salt, and yeast), a simple pot with a lid, and plenty of time are all that’s required to produce an exceptional loaf of bread. These are the basic components of all the bread recipes featured in the book, though with some minor variations (such as the rye flour used here) depending on the type of bread you’re making.

Of these standard ingredients that last one—time—is worth underscoring, because while there’s little actual work involved in any of the recipes beyond some minimal measuring and mixing, the trade off is an acceptance that the process can’t be rushed. This means allowing the dough between 12 and 18 hours for the first rise (and if the weather is very cold, as much as 24 hours), and another one to two hours for the second. At each of these stages you’ll see the dough increase in size and, during the first round, take on a noticeably different appearance as well, changes that with traditional bread-making recipes would only be achieved through lots of elbow grease. What’s more, as I discovered during the assembly process, it doesn’t require placing the dough in the oven to experience that wonderful smell associated with freshly baked bread, but rather simply adding a little yeast to the flour mixture. With just a half-teaspoon sprinkled into my mixing bowl the entire kitchen took on the warm, seductive fragrance of a bakery—a discovery that effectively rewrites one key myth of bread making.

The other nifty innovation here is baking the dough in a large, dry pot (covered for the first 30 minutes, uncovered for the remaining 15 to 30 minutes), placed in a very hot oven. That covered pot functions in the same way a classic brick domed oven does, which is to say that the steam escaping from the dough during the baking process is trapped within the pot’s enclosure to ensure a chewy crust and a moist crumb—a kind of oven within an oven. Little surprise then that the recipe directs you to preheat both the oven and the pot for a half hour before introducing the dough. Easy enough, though just as oven readings may vary, so too can the amount of time required to reach a desired temperature (for instance, mine takes more like 50 minutes to reach 475˚), so be prepared to adjust your timing accordingly.

Of course, none of these simplifications would mean anything if they didn’t ultimately produce the crunch, chew, and deep, yeasty flavor associated with a well-made loaf of bread—all qualities this recipe can be counted on to deliver. But before I even sliced into the bread it was the beautiful chestnut color of the perfectly domed exterior that thrilled me, providing one of those I-can’t-believe-I-made-this! moments that are the blue-ribbon for any home chef. Add to this the nutty dark interior and sourdough-like tang resulting from the rye flour and you have something truly special indeed. I made the bread on a brisk winter weekend and based on how warm I felt as I bit into that first (and second, and third) slice, I’m tempted to say that this is a recipe to be reserved for your cold weather arsenal. The truth is, though, that a bread this good (and this easy) should be enjoyed anytime… the sooner the better.

One final note on the ingredients: Although I had little difficulty finding either the bread- or rye flour called for here, both items are widely available online. Should you come up empty at your local market, you can try here or here.

Ingredients:
—2¼ cups bread flour
—3/4 cups rye flour (plus more for dusting)
—1¼ tsp table salt
—1/2 tsp instant or other active dry yeast
—1 1/3 cups cool water (55 to 65˚)

Special equipment:
—A 4½- to 5½-quart heavy pot

Directions:
—In a medium bowl, stir together the flours, salt, and yeast. Add the water and, using a wooden spoon or your hand, mix until you have a wet, sticky dough, about 30 seconds. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature until the surface is dotted with bubbles and the dough is more than doubled in size, 12 to 18 hours. (Note: When the weather is very cold a longer period may be necessary for the dough to double in size and for the bubbles to appear—as much as 24 hours).
—When the first rise is complete, generously dust a work surface with flour. Use a bowl scraper or rubber spatula to scrape the dough out of the bowl in one piece. Using lightly floured hands or a bowl scraper or spatula, lift the edges of the dough in toward the center. Nudge and tuck in the edges of the dough to make it round.
—Place a tea towel on your work surface and generously dust it with rye flour. Gently place the dough on the towel, seam side down. If the dough is tacky, dust the top lightly with rye flour. Fold the ends of the tea towel loosely over the dough to cover it and place it in a warm, draft-free spot to rise for 1 to 2 hours. The dough is ready when it is almost doubled. (If you gently poke it with your finger, it should hold the impression; if it springs back, let it rise for another 15 minutes.)
—Half an hour before the end of the second rise, preheat the oven to 475˚, with a rack in the lower third of the oven, and place a covered 4½- to 5½-quart heavy pot in the center of the rack.
—Using potholders, carefully remove the preheated pot from the oven and uncover it. Unfold the tea towel and quickly, but gently, invert the dough into the pot, seam side up. (Use caution—the pot will be very hot.) Cover the pot, return to the oven, and bake for 30 minutes.
—Remove the lid and continue baking until the bread is a deep chestnut color but not burnt, 15 to 30 minutes more. Use a heatproof spatula or potholders to carefully lift the bread out of the pot and place it on a rack to cool thoroughly (about 1 hour).

Note: The bread is best if eaten within 2 or 3 days of baking, and kept at room temperature, wrapped in wax or butcher paper, or in a paper bag (i.e. not plastic, which toughens bread and makes it rubbery).

Makes one 10-inch round loaf

The post 02/28/13 • EASY RYE BREAD appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the March, 2012 Saveur (click here to view the recipe)

I had to try it. There are times when I’ll be casually flipping through a cookbook or a cooking magazine and land on an image, or a recipe, or even a headline, and something about the item in question will grab hold of me in such a way that it becomes the thing I must make, and eat, as soon as possible. Such was the case with this recipe for brown bread, which I pulled out of the March issue of Saveur. My reaction was immediate — a near instantaneous shift from passively turning pages to actively planning how quickly I could assemble the necessary ingredients and get myself into the kitchen. Which is a little surprising, given that bread has never been much of a focus of mine where cooking is concerned (eating it, however, now that’s a different story). It’s a reluctance that was probably due in part to a belief that making bread required a variety of specialized equipment, not least of which was a bread-making machine. Yet here before me was a recipe proving that not only was this assumption false, but that bread-making could be achieved with something as basic as an empty coffee can and a pan of boiling water.

In fact, I think it was that coffee can that drew me in initially. I mean it’s hard to deny the romance of cooking in an item otherwise headed for the recycling heap (and that isn’t made of plastic) — it’s as though you’ve stepped into a John Huston western, or Brokeback Mountain or something, and were cooking under an open sky, your horse tied up to a tree. Anyway, that’s where I went with it. And then, this being a recipe for brown bread, I went to how much I love pumpernickel bread, and began to envision myself carving off a thick slice from a loaf made in my very own kitchen, before slathering it with a slab of good butter, and draping it with a few slices of Scottish salmon from the incomparable Russ and Daughters. Except, of course, brown bread and pumpernickel are two different things (very different, as it turns out). But such is the power of the imagination where cooking is concerned!

Okay, so scratch the pumpernickel and smoked salmon fantasy — this is not that bread. What it is, though, is a chewy, substantial loaf that has a nice grainy texture (thanks to the presence of the stone-ground cornmeal) and a pleasantly sweet flavor that comes through courtesy of a half-cup of molasses. That comes through with gusto, I should say, because while I happen to be a fan of molasses I know some are less enthusiastic about it. If so, this recipe is not for you. If it is, though, you’ll find that the sweetener also plays a part in another of the recipe’s winning characteristics, namely its moistness. It’s a quality that’s aided by the fact that this bread is not so much baked as it is steamed. Apparently, this was a method of baking that was popular in the mid-19th century and with roots in the Colonial era — in other words, one more avenue of fantasy to propel you into the kitchen! But whatever gets you there, this bread is worth the trip.

Not that the journey from measuring cup to finished loaf is a particularly arduous one. There’s the mixing of the three types of flour (rye, whole-wheat, and all-purpose — all easily sourced at most markets), along with some stone ground cornmeal, baking soda, and baking powder. To these dry ingredients are added a mixture of one egg, molasses, and buttermilk (which gives the bread a hint of sourness, a good thing in the company of the molasses), all of which is then transferred to a cleaned and buttered coffee tin . . . a “13-oz coffee tin,” in the words of the magazine. I call out this small detail because neither the half-full coffee tin in my freezer, nor any of the ones I spied on my grocery store shelves, were precisely that size (they ranged from 11.5 oz. to 15 oz., with none coming in at an even 13 oz.). Still, if this seems like a minor detail, you’re right. I went with the 15 oz. can I had on hand and the bread worked out just fine. Also, for what it’s worth, the can I used had ridges, which meant that the finished loaf came with handy, evenly spaced indentations, so cutting the perfect slice was all the easier. Hardly a can requirement, but good to know all the same.

In any case, the batter-filled can is covered with foil and placed in a large saucepan, to which is added six cups of water. Once this has been brought to a boil, the whole assembly is moved to a 300 degree oven and allowed to bake until a toothpick or cake tester inserted in the middle comes out clean, which takes somewhere between 2 1/2 and three hours (mine was finished at closer to the 2 1/2 hour mark). Once done, the can is removed from the water, allowed to cool for 20 minutes, and then un-molded. And no, the ridges on my can did not impede the bread’s release from bondage (something I had worried about as I got underway). And that’s all there is to it.

Saveur suggests pairing the bread with baked beans (homemade of course; their recipe is included here), or you can do as I did, and serve it alongside a big bowl of cabbage soup. Either scenario is a good one, though I think my favorite way to enjoy this bread is also the simplest — sliced thick, and smeared with a generous pat of sweet, softened butter. That, and a good cup of coffee, is fantasy enough for me.

Ingredients:
—1/2 cup stone-ground cornmeal
—1/2 cup rye flour
—1/4 cup whole-wheat flour
—1/4 cup all-purpose flour
—1/2 tsp kosher salt
—1/2 tsp baking powder
—1/2 tsp baking soda
—1/2 cup unsulfured molasses
—1/2 cup buttermilk
—1 egg, lightly beaten
—Butter, for greasing and serving

Directions:
—Heat oven to 300 degrees. In a large bowl, whisk together cornmeal, rye, whole-wheat and all-purpose flours, salt, and baking powder and soda; set aside. In another bowl, whisk together molasses, buttermilk, and egg until smooth; pour over dry ingredients, and stir with a spoon until just combined. Transfer to a cleaned and greased 13-oz. metal coffee can, and cover with a piece of foil; place in the center of a 6-quart saucepan. Pour 6 cups water into pot around can, and bring to a boil over high heat. Transfer pan to oven, and bake until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the bread comes out clean, 2½ – 3 hours.
—Remove can from water bath, and let cool for 20 minutes. Uncover and unmold bread from can; let cool completely. Slice into thick rounds and spread with butter.

Serves 6 to 8

The post 03/22/12 • BEST BROWN BREAD appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.