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