“If you’ve got a dollar and you spend 29 cents on a loaf of bread, you’ve got 71 cents left; but if you’ve got seventeen grand and you spend 29 cents on a loaf of bread, you’ve still got seventeen grand.  There’s a math lesson for you.”  -Steve Martin, American comedian, actor, banjo player, and frequent Saturday Night Live guest

I’m determined to learn to bake really excellent breads at home, with a regular oven, and without special equipment.  And this is, of course, because my dreams of living a pastoral lifestyle in urban Brooklyn just keep on ballooning into wilder and wilder fantasies.  (Next thing you know, I’m going to begin raising chickens.)  Seriously, though, is there anything better than the smell of baking bread?  I spent 6 full weeks of school in a kitchen across the hall from the artisinal bread-making classes and let me tell you from experience that there isn’t.  You should have seen the looks of sheer joy on our faces when they would bring us a tray of freshly-made croissants and baguettes.  We were making things like Boeuf Bourguignon and Pork Chops with Green Peppercorn Sauce – really, really delicious plates of food, but when the bread made it’s way across the hall, well, you might say it turned a bit savage.  Some of us still go up to the bread kitchen after class every night, like little seagulls, scavenging for any stray loaves that might still need a home.  (Or, erm, a belly.)  If I ever return to culinary school once I graduate from my current program, you can be sure it will be to learn the bread-making craft.  I don’t claim to be an expert in this field at all; I just claim to know good bread when I see it/smell it/taste it.

Great bread is incredibly soulful food.  Bread conjures up nostalgic imagery, warms our hearts, and is fundamental (in some form or another) to just about every cuisine in the world.  It’s got incredible history, and incredibly meaningful connotations.  (After all, no one “breaks bread” with just anyone…..)  And there is this wonderful paradox with bread, because it’s a very simple, humble food that’s staggeringly difficult to execute well.  I’ve made banana bread, corn bread, buttermilk biscuits, and all of that, but that’s not what I’m talking about.  I’m talking about real bread-making: rising, proofing, kneading, shaping…..all of these sort of wonderful, very low-tech scientific processes, and learning exactly what they do and why they work.

There’s a fantastic book out there that deals with just these topics, and it is specifically geared at regular old kitchens.  (No fancy misting ovens or proofing machines needed here, folks!)  It’s called The Bread Bible, and it’s by Rose Levy Beranbaum, who also authored The Cake Bible, a true must-have for aspiring pastry chefs.  Make no mistake, her book is a textbook more than it is a collection of recipes, so it’s going to take me a while to study it meaningfully.  (Just you wait, though, because…..homemade baguettes and soft pretzels anyone?)  However, for this, my very first foray into bread-making, I’ve consulted my old friend The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook (have I sold you this book yet or what?), because, well, they’ve got incredibly clear instructions with how-to photos.  I rarely post other people’s recipes, or even adaptations of other people’s recipes, but I do when I have no choice but to admit the defeat of needing them.  And this one is almost a direct reference to what’s in the Test Kitchen book, with a couple of my own notes and tricks that I discovered while baking this loaf.  I will say that I was amazed at how well this turned out.  The crust got great color and was very flaky and crunchy.  The interior had the texture and flavor of truly great white bread, but wasn’t as air-y and light inside as I had hoped.  Even a day later, it’s still holding up, though I will probably wind up turning most of it into breadcrumbs or a panzanella this weekend.

Most importantly, I learned that making good bread isn’t particularly difficult provided you are willing to follow a few simple instructions carefully.  It was a very satisfying project, considering all the rules.  I mean, I was just happy it worked!  Baking a loaf of bread is the perfect project for a lazy Sunday afternoon, and I hope-slash-know that this is the first of many posts I will do that are focused at this wonderful form of art.  Here’s to incredibly amazing-smelling kitchens everywhere!

Ingredients:

2 cups bread flour  (NOTE:  I used Gold Medal “Better For Bread” Flour)

2 cups all-purpose flour (plus more for dusting the countertop)

1 envelope active dry yeast  (NOTE:  I used Fleischmann’s Active Dry Yeast)

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 3/4 cup warm water

2 tbsp. sugar

Instructions:

1.  Set up a food processor with the dough blade.  (The blade itself should be labelled as such, and most food processors come with this particular accessory.)  Add the bread flour, all-purpose flour, and salt together in the food processor bowl and pulse a few times to combine the ingredients evenly.

2.  In a small bowl, place a pinch of sugar, the contents of the yeast envelope, and 1 cup of the warm water.  (NOTE:  Water should be nice and warm, but not boiling hot.  Water that’s too hot can kill the yeast and render it completely useless.)  Allow the mixture to sit for about 5 minutes to activate.  You’ll know it’s working when the mixture becomes frothy and bubbly.  When ready, run the food processor and pour the yeast mixture slowly and evenly through the feed tube.  Also stream in the remaining 3/4 cup warm water and the sugar.  The dough should come together in a nice big blob after about 30-40 seconds or so.  If it looks a bit dry and doesn’t want to come together properly (mine didn’t, at first), add more warm water, about 1 tbsp. at a time, until it does.  Turn off food processor and allow the dough to rest for 15 minutes.

3.  When the dough has rested, turn on the food processor one more time for 30 seconds.  Sprinkle a clean work surface with a light dusting of flour, and turn the dough ball out onto the floured surface.  Knead by hand for about 5 minutes to develop the gluten and to get a nice, smooth, soft dough.  (NOTE:  There is a nice instructional video on proper kneading technique here.)  Transfer the kneaded dough to a lightly-oiled stainless steel or glass bowl, cover with a damp kitchen towel or plastic wrap, and allow to rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 – 1 1/2 hours.

4.  Sprinkle the counter again with a light dusting of flour.  Turn the dough out onto the floured surface and gently dimple the dough all over with your fingertips.  Then, lift up the dough at the top, bottom, left, and right edges and gather at the middle so it forms kind of a “drawstring purse” shape.  Flip the dough over so the gathered area is at the bottom, and the surface now facing you is a smooth, round ball.  Cup the dough tightly with your hands and drag it across the counter a few times.  (This will pull the dough nice and taut.)  Place the dough gently on a piece of parchment paper and cover with a piece of plastic wrap that has been lightly oiled or sprayed with Pam.  Allow to rise again for 1 – 1 1/2 hours, or nearly doubled in size.

5.  Adjust the oven so that the rack is at the lowest possible position.  Preheat to 500ºF.  When there is about 30 minutes left in the rising time, place a sheet pan upside-down on the rack to warm up.  (You could use a baking stone instead, if you have one.)

6.  When the rising time is up, and just before baking, remove the plastic wrap and score the top of the dough with an “X” shape using a sharp paring knife.  Carefully slide the parchment paper and dough onto the now-hot overturned sheet tray in the oven.  Spray the dough a few times with water, and then close the door.  After one minute, open the door and spray again.  Repeat one more time a minute later, and then allow the bread to bake until it begins to turn spotty and golden-brown all over, about 15 minutes.  (NOTE:  For me, this happened a bit sooner, around 10-12 minutes.)

7.  Reduce the oven temperature to 400ºF and continue to bake for 25 more minutes.  Transfer the bread to a wire rack and allow to cool fully to room temperature before slicing, about 2 hours.  Now, does your house smell good or what?

Yield: 1 loaf of old-school pastoral bliss