English Brown Bread

It's been a long time since my last post (indeed, since any merry baker has posted here) but the days are dark and dripping now with rain and fog, and it's well past time to bake bread again.


This bread is a sturdy English Brown Bread, courtesy of Nigella Lawson's book How to be a Domestic Goddess. It isn't fancy, but rather a more wholesome version of plain white bread, with some whole grain flour thrown into the mix. This is a bread for peanut butter sandwiches, or a bit of salted butter and jam. More importantly, it's the kind of forgiving bread that can be put together in a couple of very busy days. I broke all of the rules with this bread: I left it to rise overnight, shaped it and threw it in the fridge for a day and a half, and then left it on the counter for a scant 30 minutes before tossing it into the oven. It should have deflated. It should have become pungent with alcohol and dying yeast, and then turned into a dense log of inedibility. But it didn't and wasn't; it is perfect.

It isn't as exciting as the baguettes and ciabattas I started making earlier this year, but truth be told, it's been long enough now that I feel intimidated by my own achievements. I figure this year we'll start humble and proceed to croissants and sourdough in due time.

Like the ciabatta of five months ago, croissants and sourdough are my new goals for 2011. By this time next year I want to be able to turn out flaky golden pastries and have a homemade starter bubbling in the fridge. I might even get crazy and try to attract local yeast.

But I'm digressing from the sturdy brown bread. Another beauty of this recipe is that you can add as much or as little whole wheat flour as you like. Be aware that the more whole wheat you add, the denser the loaf will be (you'll also probably need to add a touch more water). I like a rough ratio of about 2/3 white to 1/3 wheat; using a little rye flour would not be amiss here, either.

You can bake this bread in a loaf tin or in its birthday suit on a baking stone or sheet. If you choose the latter, as I did, try to first shape the loaf into a boule before elongating and slashing it. I have yet to turn out a perfect boule--mine is a bit bulgy and the slashes have gone awry--but in this case I think practice really will make perfect.




BROWN BREAD: Makes 1 loaf

1 packet yeast
2 C white flour
1 1/4 C whole wheat flour
1 T salt
300 ml warm water
1 T butter or olive oil

Mix flour, salt and yeast in a large bowl (or the bowl of your mixer). Add the warm water and knead until smooth and springy, around 10 minutes. I had to knead for quite a while, adding a little extra flour and water, in order for the dough to pass Reinhardt's window pane test.

Lightly oil a large clean bowl and let the dough rise until doubled in a warm place. Punch the dough and shape the loaf. Let rest until puffy and almost doubled again, about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 420 degrees F. Bake for 35 minutes, or until the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when tapped. Cool before slicing.

Baguettes

It's late, I'm exhausted, and I have to get up early to enter grades, but I had to show you my baguettes.

I'm skipping around Reinhardt's book now, completely against the Merry Baker project's initial game plan, but I feel confident enough now to eschew structure in favor of desire. And this weekend's desire was for baguettes.

Baguettes to go with a Father's Day/ Parents' 34th Wedding Anniversary Feast. Fennel-Honey pork loin chops, mashed potatoes with caramelized onions and fennel, a roasted beet and carrot salad, and a green salad. Plus my father-in-law's wickedly strong martinis, Manhattans, and whiskey sours. I began wishing I hadn't macerated the strawberries in brandy.

This recipe was popular with the crowd and ridiculously easy to make: you mix up a basic lean dough recipe on day one, let it ferment in the fridge overnight, make (almost) the same recipe again on day 2, combine the doughs, and voila! Crusty, chewy baguettes with a moist crumb and pleasing, caramelized flour taste.

The hardest part of this project, as always, was the shaping and slashing. I thought I'd cut my dough into three equal parts, but as my father pointed out, it ended up being more of a Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Baby Bear affair. I'm pleased with the slashes, but they should be more dramatic; I hesitated, concentrating more on the perpendicular nature of the slash than its length or depth, resulting in very shallow cuts.

My father-in-law called them formidable.

My mom called them delicious.

And I'm calling it a night.

Cinnamon Raisin Bread--Hold the Raisins

First, I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to my baking partners, Glenna, Jonathan and Kate, who have abandoned me to pursue non-yeast-oriented weekend activities. Yes, the Merry Bakers is a smaller band (of one) now, but like the heroes of yore I will persevere against the armies of darkness.

By which I mean, of course, the vast minions of Cooked Raisins.

Cooked raisins are an abomination. Bloated and squishy, cooked raisins are the zombies of the food world, resurrected from a pleasant dessicated existence to wreak havoc on your mouth. I know that some people like them, take pleasure in the way cooked raisins burst between the teeth, coating the tongue in rotten grape, but for me, raisins are the surest way to ruin a baked good. Almost like whole walnuts in a brownie, but that's a contentious issue for another occasion and, truth be told, I'll eat pretty much anything if it's surrounded by chocolate. Even, perhaps, a cooked raisin (it has happened; and woe betide my mouth).

Knowing that I would dislike the results of Reinhardt's original Cinnamon Raisin Bread, and not being charitable enough to bake it anyway and give it to friends, I switched the raisins for dried cranberries.

(I know what you're thinking: dried cranberries are just dried raisins of a different hue. Here, however, you are wrong. Dried cranberries cooked are tart and bright in flavor, unlike the sweet earthy cooked raisin. They also don't spray juice into your mouth when you bite down; instead, you get a chewy, fruity note that complements the subtle spicing in the bread.)

And the bread, true to all of Reinhardt's recipes, is really delicious. The cinnamon and sugar in the dough add enough sweetness to make this a nice breakfast loaf, but I just as happily ate the toasted slices with sharp cheese or almond butter. It would even make a nice turkey sandwich, especially with a thin layer of cream cheese. I did alter the formula slightly, by substituting roughly 1 1/4 C whole wheat flour for the white. That ended up being the right amount, as it didn't alter the density of the dough too much (though I did have to add more liquid) and it intensified the toastiness of the walnuts. I also felt a little better getting some whole grains into my system after a winter of Reinhardt's decadent white flour recipes.

However you cut or slice it, raisins or no, all white or partially so, this is a very lovely bread. Perfect for the Portland rainy season, when you just want to sit with a cup of chai and smell something delicious in the kitchen.

(Note: I'm not hiding a picture of the finished product out of shame; my camera needs batteries!)--Rhianna

Cinnamon Rolls

Okay, I have no picture because we ate the rolls too fast.

This was my second time around with the rolls (I cheated and made them for Christmas morning, before the Merry Bakers began) and they were super delicious. Reinhardt is right: these buns are the only homemade cinnamon rolls I've ever had or made that approximate the gooey sugar bombs you can buy at Cinnabon. But they're so much better--yeastier, more velvety, with a subtle citrus flavor--and eating one isn't a precursor to coronary arrest. If you drizzle them with a generous amount of the fondant and eat them warm with the last dregs of your coffee: heaven.

My only warning is that I don't think making smaller rolls (12-14, rather than 8-10) is the best choice in terms of roll shape. The first time around I made big mama rolls and they were so gorgeous, sweet golden high-rises that had to be shared. This time I made them as an accompaniment to Mother's Day brunch, and figured that personal rolls would provide a snappier meal finish. The fact that each person got his own roll was a hit (especially with my 10-year old brother) but I didn't care for the flatter, square shape of the buns. I probably just needed to cut the rolls a bit thicker, but next time I'm sticking to the big guns.

The Holiest Bread

Do you see that woman over there, doing the booty-shaking dance of baking triumph?

That's not me.

But I'm next to her, doing the slightly more subdued ciabatta cha-cha.

You see, this whole baking project has been (still is, will forever be), for me, about ciabatta. The giant silky holes in the golden crust that breaks into shards when you cut a slice. The slightly sour taste of the chewy, soft bread. The way olive oil pools through the crumb, leaving tiny, shiny puddles on your plate. I love ciabatta, like PeeWee Herman want to marry it love it. And until last weekend, it seemed an impossible goal for the home baker who lacks bread ovens and, quite frankly, a great deal of skill.

But that skill is growing, thanks to Reinhardt, and ciabatta is well within my reach, if not yet in my grasp.


I'm happy with the bread you see here. Toasted it's lovely, and it made an amazing addition to meals of pasta with chicken sausage and squash, warm lentil salad with pork fennel sausage and homemade croutons, goat cheese and tomato, and just plain almond butter. And I practically peed in my pants when I saw those holes! (I didn't believe they would materialize. They seem way too magical to be the result of simple dough folding.)

But in the end the loaves taste too bland to me, despite the careful fermentation process. Next time I'm going to substitute some whole wheat or rye flour for the white to increase the flavor punch. I also want to work on my stretch-and-fold maneuvering to get even bigger holes, and I definitely need some shaping practice.


I laughed as I pulled the finished loaves from the oven: they've definitely got some rockabilly pompadour action up top.

Still, this is the first recipe to get me really and truly excited, which is saying a lot given that my heart does happy dance every time I pull a fresh bread out of the oven. I can't wait to try this again, next time with mushrooms.

And then cheese.

And then caramelized onions. Mmmm.

Brioche (or, Gimme Some of Your Sweet Buns)

Oh baby, look at those buns.

Weeks after Glenna and Jonathan baked their brioche, and Kate experimented with alcoholic dough, I finally got around to making my own. After deliberating with Kate (or, to be truthful, listening to her long voicemail message--which I love) I decided upon the Middle Class Brioche, as the Rich Man's scared me (80% butter?) and the Poor Man's seemed like a lame concession to guilty-minded bakers.

Given the high butterfat percentage (50%) I decided to splurge and use imported Kerry Gold butter, which is wonderfully yellow and creamy tasting. It took a fair amount of time to incorporate the softened butter into the dough, and then spreading the sticky mass onto parchment paper was challenging. My hands smelled like butter for hours! The other challenge was scraping the chilled dough off of the parchment, but this is probably due to the fact that I don't own spray oil (which Reinhardt recommends) and so my parchment was drier than the recipe called for.

The only element I tweaked was to turn the soft dough into cinnamon rolls, which Reinhardt discusses in his commentary. There's really no pastry I like better than a warm cinnamon roll (without the gook that comes on commercial rolls), and so I leaped at the chance to convert the brioche. The dough's stickiness made rolling the pastry difficult, but one bite of the golden yellow, flaky, not too sweet roll was enough to make want to go through the whole mess again. Once I digest my roll, of course, which should be in a few days.

I have to admit, I'm glad Tom and I went to the gym this morning, because these buns are intense. Even now I'm wondering about bringing the rest to our matinee because having them around the house is a waistline liability (or an incentive to work out? One should be positive about these things). This definitely isn't an everyday dough, but it is a marvelous treat.

To fermentation and beyond...the harsh realities of the kitchen

Today was not a good day for me in the culinary arts. Not a good day at all. I guess it started a week ago Sunday when I made the dough. And then I let it chill overnight. And overnight. And overnight again 7 times over. I got busy. I figured chilled is chilled right? Wrong. While it was chilling it was also fermenting. When I took the plastic wrap off the dough it was clear that something was a little off. The whole thing reaked of alcohol. I googled and called Little Chef to no available (don't worry LC, this is all just to add to the drama of the post!). Apparently no one is stupid enough to do this because I did not find any information about over fermenting your dough that quite matched what I had done. Note to others, do not google "my dough smells bad" unless you want a whole slew of moderately x-rated options. And it doesn't seem to be rising in the cute fluted cups. Sadly, I think it headed for trash can. The dough itself tasted awful and no amount of baking will fix it. In addition, the pasta I made was mushy and not particularly memorable. I hate throwing away time and resources, but I hate wasting calories and eating things that are only so so just because. Better luck tomorrow with my lentils and ciabatta.

In true NY bagel baking style

Not ascetically pleasing, but very very tasty! I decided right off the bat that if a true blue New Yorker couldn't find malt, I certainly wasn't going to waste my time. Honey it was. Right off the bat I was having problems. First my bubbly yeast mixture did not collapse when I banged the bowl very firmly (multiple times) against the counter. Then, even though I added a whole extra half cup of flour, my dough was sticky, sticky, sticky and was not passing the windowpane test. Sigh. I felt a slight panic coming on. I shaped all my dough into what I estimated to be 4.5 ounce balls and waited. Then I reshaped into bagels. Then I read the recipe again. What? What!? These have to sit overnight? I had planned to start the week with freshly baked bagels and now it was 9:30pm on a Sunday night. Double sigh. But in my semi-darkest moment, there was some hope. I could not have been more excited when my test bagel floated and the success inspired me to to rise early, in true NYC bagel baking style and boil my tasty delights before the sun rose. Since Phil was getting up at 5:30am the next day, I did as well and boiled and baked away in my dark kitchen. I decided on three flavors: plain, sesame, and sea salt (courtesy of Little Chef!) with rosemary. I ran into problems getting the bagels to hold their shape when peeling them off the sheet to drop in the water, and so my bagels were fairly flat. But the taste was fantastic - I have been assured by two harsh critics that they taste as good as any professional bagel. Success is mine!

the test bagel floats
can you stop the test bagel now? (kinda messed that one up in the drying process)

Chewy Bagels in Portland, Oregon

Right now I'm enjoying a chewy, golden bagel covered in cream cheese, smoked salmon and sliced tomato, and drizzled with lemon juice and olive oil, and I made it. I'm feeling irrationally proud of myself.

I didn't believe that the bagels would work out. First, I couldn't find high gluten flour and had to substitute King Arthur organic bread flour. Then, I couldn't locate malt powder and had to substitute raw honey. And the final straw was when the super stiff dough so overwhelmed the tenacity of my little Kitchen Aid that the poor machine sputtered to what may be it's final finish.

Then, it was difficult to shape an attractive bagel. Like Glenna, I resorted to poking holes in my bread balls, because the traditional method yielded lopsided loops. The poke-method bagels did turn out a bit prettier, although several still puffed up asymmetrically. I guess practice is key to shaping any kind of loaf. It was fun though, making rows of bagels, and I loved seeing them lined up neatly in my fridge, awaiting the boiling and baking.

But I forgot to mention that I had to wait several hours for my test bagel to pass the float test. My dough was that stiff (or our apartment's that cold)! Did anyone else encounter this issue?

Once I boiled the bagels, I covered them in a mixture of nigella seeds and red sea salt. The resulting taste is salty, tart and nutty: yum. I experimented with different boiling times, and found I like my bagels boiled for about 2 minutes per side and then baked for about 12 minutes to achieve a really chewy, golden brown crust. The insides are porcelain white and soft, and just as good as any professional bagel I've eaten.

The bagels are yummy, but what's even more satisfying than the eating is the pleasure of mixing and shaping and creating something beautiful out of flour and water. And I love seeing all of your pictures. Mine will come soon...

--Rhi

NY-made Bagels and Mission for Malt.

Our struggle began in our effort to find malt. I tried Zabars, Westside Market, Citarella's, Fairway, Gourmet Garage, Food Emporium, Whole Foods. No malt. I even emailed Steven Shaw, founder of egullet and one of my favorite food writers. He emailed me back 6 times with suggestions...The ultimate choice that worked...I went in to my old bagel shop (who asks to remain nameless!) and begged for malt. They were very kind and offered me some...If I promised to bring them one of the bagels. I said yes, as long as they promised to eat one. They declined!

We made them, I even helped. DELICIOUS. Tasted like real bagels. Unbelievable when they first came out, so light and doughy-fluffy. We loved them. The only battle in the kitchen was one I opted for the less traditional style of bagel forming and Jonathan insisted on the traditional style of making a long stick and then forming a circle. (I just made a ball, then poked a finger in the middle to form a hole). In the end it tastes the same.

Awesome creation!

With Your Leftover Poolish...

If any of you are like me, you ended up with too much poolish. Well, worry not, because you can make a delicious sandwich bread with this that will tide you over until bagel time.

First, put 1/2 tsp of yeast, 1 Tb salt and 3 C warm water into the bowl of your standing mixer.
Dump your leftover poolish into the bowl, and add 3 C flour (I like to mix white and white whole wheat). Mix well.
Start to knead (by hand or in the mixer), incorporating 1-2 more cups of flour. The poolish makes the dough pretty wet, so you'll want to add flour bit by bit until the dough is smooth and tacky.
Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl and set aside until it doubles, roughly 2 hours.
Divide the dough into two pieces, and shape each piece into a loaf (stretch into an oval and then roll up, pinching the seam). Place each loaf in a lightly oiled or buttered loaf pan and let rise for another 2 hours or so--until they double.
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. When the oven is hot, give each loaf a nice slash down the middle, turn the oven down to 400 degrees and bake for about 45 minutes. The loaves should crest the pan and be golden.
After 45 minutes, slip the loaves out of the pans and put them back in the oven for five minutes.
Take out and cool 1-2 hours before slicing.

This bread is delicious and flexible (I put the dough in the fridge before the first rise; let it come to room temperature and rise when I had time to shape it; and then left the shaped loaves to proof overnight in our chilly apartment, baking them in the morning). I just gobbled a huge piece as a mid-morning snack, and am already leering at it, thinking of lunch.

-Rhi

Time to Celebrate!

So it was the first snowstorm of the week and what better way to celebrate than to bake Greek Celebration Bread! I had opted to go with orange zest and think it compliments the almond quite nicely. This week I was delighted that I actually developed a kneeding strategy and was able to get my dough supple enough to pass the windowpane test! Then of course I promptly dropped my well oiled ball of dough on the floor (which luckily I had just mopped in my presnow giddiness!). Little did I know that I was going to be out of work for a week, but I was anticipating some good cooking over the next few days (orecchiette and roast cauliflower, roast chicken, stock, white chili, cornbread, lemon risotto, and chocolate chip cookies). The bread was an amazing start to my cooking adventure throughout Snowmaggedon and Snoverkill. Of course, I let it rise for the double the time because Phil and I went out exploring in the snow and it was just too pretty to come in! And speaking of Phil- I have to give my husband a little pat on the back via this blog because he is an enormous help in the process by doing the bread dishes! And of course, loving the bread. ;)

blubbling poolish!

orange zest in all it's glory
whoops - stayed away a little too long...try tripled in size




Ta-da!

Greek Celebration Bread at the Lee Household

Jonathan did it again. He's two inches taller whenever he bakes, because it makes him so happy! This week was a lot easier and tastier (Jonathan says) than the Anadama bread (which was delicious, but at the end of the whole process, at 10:3o pm, J had said "the thing about making bread, is that, after all that hard work, it still tastes like bread.") But today we were satisfied! Here are some photos! (By the way, as you can see, the bread deflated during the final resting period which showed that it was undercooked - still delicious though!) I'm loving this project because, even though it was my idea, J does all the hard work (I do buy the ingredients though!).

Opa! Greek Celebration Bread

You'll notice right away that I didn't follow Reinhart's instructions on shaping, so I'm going to cut to the chase and confess: I failed to measure the length of my ropes (I was going to make the 3-strand braid), and the braid ended up longer than the cookie sheet. Not wanting to undo the braid (well, it was pretty), I wrapped it around itself into a boule-like mound. I was nervous about not supplying the loaf with enough surface tension to allow it to rise appropriately, but it did rise: gloriously brown and braided, like a woven basket. This flexibility is a testament to Reinhart's recipe, which produces a silky dough with a generosity of movement and tackiness that allows for all kinds of baker manipulations.

I had fun making this bread and it's debut at dinner last night was a success. The house still smells wonderfully of lemons, almonds and cinnamon--three of my favorite tastes in the world--and my stomach is already growling for a clove-crumbed breakfast treat. The Greek bread reminds me a lot of the sugar-laced cardamom bread that my parents love, and I imagine that if you did the glaze, the mouthful of slightly crunchy sugar spice crumb would be virtually identical.

Being me, this bread was not without its gaffs, above and beyond the shaping. Above is the poolish, after a few days in the fridge. I misread the instructions and thought it had to ferment for 3-4 days rather than 3-4 hours, but it seemed happy enough sitting, sponge-like, in the fridge, nestled between the cheeses and the radishes (the things Tom lives with). I found that the recipe made a lot of extra poolish, and froze it for later uses. In the future I might make two loaves, or plan on making a ciabatta as well. I have to admit that I get an odd, sci-fi pleasure from things like poolishes and bigas and other starters. They take on odd lives of their own, growing, burping and requiring regular feedings. I can't wait for the section on natural starters.

The best part of all (other than the taste)? This passed the windowpane test!

While I tired of the anadama bread pretty quickly, I will make this bread again and again. This is a winner! --Rhianna

The Lee Family Bakes (Okay, really all Jonathan)

Anadama Bread

I have successfully baked my first two loaves of bread. Ever. It was thrilling to be perfectly honest. I am kind of odd about bread. I insist on buying bread that only has 6-7 ingredients. It is reassuring to recognize all the ingredients because let's be honest, most breads have plenty of things that have no business being in bread to begin with (take a look at the label on your bread at home). That being said - I never have actually taken it upon myself to make a loaf. Until now.
I was a little intimidated by the book when it first arrived at my door- and even more intimidated when the first bread was a two day bread. But in the end, it actually wasn't too bad. I may have to purchase a mixer that can handle bread, ie has a bread hook attachment, but for now I prefer to be kneading the bread by hand. It feels like bread making in its pure form. Or at least that is what I told myself when I was hoovering over the ball of dough for 15 minutes last night. I couldn't get the bread to pass the "windowpane test" but gave up and figured it was good enough.
And it was.
There were a few little hiccups along the way...At first I was worried because all I had was a darker molasses, but the taste didn't end up being to overpowering once baked (yes I sampled the dough - of course!). I thought it would be a good idea to grab the baking rack with my bare hand and now have the blisters to prove it. I under oiled my ceramic baking pan that I was using for the first time... and it was so pretty with the bread rising happily over it's edges. But the loaf itself was a little less pretty after I struggled to free it from its ceramic home. But it ended up basically intact and tasting lovely and the other load looked great.
All in all, a successful experience that I am looking forward to repeating every two weeks! Pictures to follow.
-K

Anadama, this is good bread!

Crusty, fragrant brown bread, waiting for salty butter or a wedge of tangy cheese. Dark, because I also had to make do with blackstrap molasses, but like Kate notes, the flavor and fragrance aren't overpowering. Instead, the bread is slightly sweet and somehow more old-fashioned for its brown nobbiness. It tastes like a cold Boston night, redolent with baked beans and snow.


This bread seemed pretty straightforward, despite the two-stage fermentation and the difficulty of achieving Reinhart's windowpane texture (could anyone do that? I kneaded forever and still the dough kept tearing--I finally stopped when the gluten was as tight and stretchy as spandex, windowpane test be damned). I don't have a picture of the failed windowpane, but I did snap an image of the soaker and flour before being integrated. Isn't the color contrast pretty?

I like how the soaker teases the sugar from the polenta without breaking the crunch of the grain. I broke the rules by letting the sponge ferment for several hours--not purposefully, we simply had to leave the house before the first hour was up--but the bread's flavor and texture are lovely. Perhaps a longer sponge led to increased flavor? I don't know, but the yeast had a field day: the last hurrah, I suppose.

Also, instead of baking the bread immediately after the last rise, I followed Reinhart's instructions to retard the loaves in the fridge until I had time to bake them the next day. I was surprised to come home from the beach to find fully risen loaves in the fridge, but I left them on the counter to warm for a few hours, and they baked up fine. Here they are before the refridgeration and slow rise:


I think the variegated colors in the finished crumb are interesting (places where the molasses is less integrated?) and wonder if it's a sign of lack of skill, but I'm pleased with the tight but tender crumb and the crunchy crust.

Hello, breakfast. Get in my belly! --Rhi

Bread Masters of the Universe

Glenna, Kate and Jonathan,

We embark on a doughy adventure; may it be filled with flour and happiness.

Until the first bread,

Rhi