Archive for the ‘Savory’ Category

Pretzel Knots, For The Last Time!

Saturday, January 2nd, 2010

Week Fifty-Three: For The Last Time!

pretzels-again-1

And here we are.  It’s the very last bread of the year.  I’ve made sure to leave you with a good one, too.

When I first made these pretzel knots, I was intrigued by the excellent flavor of both the dough and the poaching liquid, though the rising method left quite a lot to be desired.  I’m not entirely sure why the original recipe directed the cook to refrigerate the rising dough for a shamefully short time (less than an hour), but my dough rose hardly at all that way.

By the time I’d realized that the specified method would never work in my kitchen, my dough was well and truly chilled, and it took ages to come back to room temperature.  The only reason I can pinpoint for the use of such a technique is that the recipe comes from a restaurant in Las Vegas, where high-altitude rules (such as refrigerating dough to slow yeast activity) would certainly apply.

The result of the first attempt at this recipe was slightly disappointing, as the pretzels were extremely flat, but it held great promise, as they were nonetheless fluffy-textured and flavorful.  When I tweaked the rising method to better suit my nearly-sea-level kitchen, the bread that resulted was shockingly good.

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With the same complex depth of flavor that had convinced me to try it again, this second batch had a much better and rounder shape, with a cheerful loft to the crumb that teetered impossibly between fluffy and chewy.  Pulling one apart, the dough resisted with a perfect tug that melted into a creamy softness on the tongue, the hallmark of any well-crafted bread.  The subtly and pleasantly metallic notes imparted by the poaching liquid reaffirmed its formerly-conferred status as my go-to mixture for any pretzel; but this time, the pretzels themselves convinced me to make this dough my go-to recipe.

I tried serving these pretzels with mustard, because, you know, that’s just what you do; but after a few bites, I put the mustard away.  Mustard here is a disservice, and I have never said those words before.  I love, love, love mustard, especially mustard on a soft pretzel.  Even more especially good mustard on a homemade soft pretzel.  But mustard on these things actually detracts from their phenomenal flavor; it covers it up and makes it taste merely great, instead of mind-blowingly incredible.

Hyperbole?  Hardly.  It’s the last bread of the year, and I wasn’t about to leave you with anything less.

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PS - Beer is still a go with these.

Pretzel Knots, For The Last Time!
Adapted from Cut in Las Vegas, via Bon Appétit
Makes 8

For the dough:
9½ ounces (2 cups) unbleached bread flour
2 tablespoon packed brown sugar
1½ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon instant yeast
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup buttermilk
1½ teaspoons vegetable oil

For the poaching liquid:
8 cups water
1/4 cup beer
1/4 cup baking soda
1/4 cup packed brown sugar

For finishing:
2 to 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 to 2 tablespoons coarse salt

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, and yeast.  Add the water, buttermilk, and oil.  Using the dough hook attachment, mix on low speed until a rough dough forms.  Turn off the mixer, and without removing the hook or the bowl, cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest for 15 to 20 minutes.

2.  Remove the plastic wrap.  Turn the speed to medium-low and knead for about 5 minutes, or until supple and smooth.  The dough should be sticky.  Transfer to a large lightly-oiled bowl, and let sit at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

3.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly-floured work surface.  Gently deflate, and divide the dough into 8 even pieces.  Keeping the unused pieces covered loosely with plastic wrap, roll each piece into a long rope, about 8 to 9 inches long.  Tie the ropes into single or double granny knots.  Transfer to the prepared baking sheet, and cover loosely with lightly oiled plastic wrap.  Let sit at room temperature until puffy and risen, but not necessarily doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 450º F.

4.  To prepare the poaching liquid, combine the water, beer, baking soda, and sugar in a medium to large pot.  Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to about medium, or hot enough to keep the liquid at a lively simmer.  Cut the parchment paper between the pretzels so each rests on its own square.  Line a second large baking sheet with parchment paper.

5.  Gently lifting by the paper, lower each pretzel into the boiling water, removing the parchment as soon as possible.  Poach pretzels for about 20 seconds on one side, gently turn over, and cook for about 20 seconds more.  Transfer boiled pretzels with a skimmer or slotted spoon to the second baking sheet, letting the liquid drain off well before setting each down.

6.  When all the pretzels have been cooked, let cool briefly, 5 to 10 minutes.  Brush gently and evenly with vegetable oil, and sprinkle generously with salt.  Bake the pretzels at 450º F for about 15 minutes, or until deeply browned.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.  Serve warm.

Notes:
1.  Don’t store pretzels in an airtight container, as the salt will make them shrivel.  Pretzels can be stored at room temperature, uncovered, for about 1 day.  Remaining pretzels should be frozen in an airtight container (such as a zip top bag), and reheated unthawed in a 350º F oven for 5 to 10 minutes, or until heated through.

Caramelized Garlic Bread, For The Last Time!

Friday, January 1st, 2010

Week Fifty-Three: For The Last Time!

caramelized-garlic-1

This bread was a spectacular failure the first time I tried it.  I was attempting to recreate a bread that I’d never tried or seen in person, but the descriptions of which sounded too fantastic to let a recreation remain unattempted.  Made by Brasserie Bread in Sydney, Australia, the Caramelised Garlic Bread is one of their more popular creations.  My knowledge of this loaf was limited, at best; but the thought of pulling from my oven a “soft Italian dough” resplendent with garlic “caramelised in a sugar syrup with balsamic vinegar and cracked black pepper corns [sic]” spurred me onwards.

The resultant loaf from that first attempt was so insanely garlicky that I actually threw it away (and if you know me, you know that’s not a thing I do lightly).  I harbored brief delusions of using it to thicken a brothy vegetable soup, but I quickly realized that unless I wanted everything in my freezer to taste like garlic, it had to go.  Out it went, and the stinky disservice I had done to the otherwise delightful dough weighed on my conscience.

For this second attempt, I immediately reduced the amount of garlic.  Shocker, I know.  And since the blanching procedure I originally used did nothing noticeable, I eliminated that in favor of a more obvious cooking technique: caramelizing the whole cloves in a pan, as one would caramelize onions.  This newer method worked so much better that I’m still smacking myself in the forehead for not realizing it sooner.

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Caramelization, you see, means one thing: it’s the way sugars cook.  But this can refer to any kind of sugar, whether plain white granulated sugar, or the natural vegetable sugars in, say, onions.  When given little to no information about the type of caramelization that should occur in this bread, my pastry chef brain took over, and decided that white sugar caramelization was being referenced.  Unfortunately for my bread, the temperatures at which white sugar turns to caramel are far too hot for precious garlic, which will burn within an instant, turning bitter and generally nasty.

If I’d used my less pastry-oriented brain, I would’ve realized that obviously, garlic should be caramelized like onions, at a low heat that would preserve the nutty and buttery flavors that can be coaxed from garlic, if treated properly.  After slowly cooking this garlic, I knew in an instant that this bread would be a far greater success; this garlic was soft and sweet, with that delicious slow-cooked garlic flavor, rather than tasting harsh and evil as the previous attempt’s garlic had.

The dough here is exactly the same as last time, amazingly easy and delicious.  I’ve adapted the vaunted Artisan Bread In Five Minutes A Day method, which results in a truly fantastic loaf with excellent flavor, texture, crust, and crumb.  When folded around these slightly sweet bursts of buttery, balsamic-coated whole garlic cloves, it was just fantastic.

Overall, this bread is crusty, tender, and full of the best flavors garlic has to offer.  If you’re not a fan of garlic, you might not appreciate it all that much; but if you buy garlic as often as you buy milk or eggs, this one’s right up your alley.  Me, I finally got a caramelized garlic bread that I can actually eat and enjoy, and that’s good enough for me.  Mission accomplished.

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Caramelized Garlic Bread, For The Last Time!
Adapted in part from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois
Makes 1 loaf

For the dough:
9 ounces (2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting as needed
1½ teaspoons yeast
1½ teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 cup water
1 tablespoon olive oil

For the caramelized garlic:
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 teaspoon butter
1/2 head garlic, separated into cloves and peeled
2 teaspoons whole black peppercorns, crushed
1 pinch salt
2 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

1.  To make the dough, whisk together the flour, yeast, salt, and sugar.  Add the water and olive oil, and mix until smooth and all flour is moistened.  Cover well, and let sit at room temperature for about 2 hours.  Transfer the dough to the refrigerator, where it should sit for at least 12 hours and up to 12 days.

2.  When ready to continue, remove the dough from the refrigerator and let sit at room temperature while you make the caramelized garlic.  In a small sauté pan over medium-low heat, warm the butter and olive oil just until the butter is melted.  Add the garlic cloves, crushed peppercorns, and salt; toss to combine.

3.  Slowly cook the garlic over low or medium-low heat until very soft and browned, about 45 minutes.  If the garlic starts to over-brown, reduce the heat.  Towards the end of cooking, sprinkle the sugar evenly over the garlic, and slowly add the balsamic vinegar (the mixture will bubble up).  Reduce the liquid slightly, then remove garlic to a plate to cool to room temperature, about 10 minutes.

4.  Sprinkle a baking sheet with cornmeal, or line with parchment paper.  To make the bread, turn the dough out onto a floured work surface.  Flour the top, and gently press into a flat rectangle, being careful not to deflate it too much.  Place the garlic evenly over the surface of the dough.

5.  Starting with a long side, roll the dough up jelly-roll style into a long cylinder, pressing the seam to seal.  Transfer the roll to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends underneath if you like, for a more even shape.  Dust liberally with flour, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and let rise at room temperature for 30 to 60 minutes, or until doubled in size.  Dough is fully risen when an indentation remains in the side after prodding gently with a fingertip.  Preheat the oven to 450º F, with a baking stone if possible.  Place a rimmed pan (cast iron is ideal, but any pan will do) in the oven to heat also.  Meanwhile, heat 1/2 cup water to just simmering.

6.  When fully risen, quickly slash the loaf with a sharp serrated knife 3 to 4 times, letting only the weight of the blade press into the dough.  Pour the heated water into the hot pan in the oven, and place the dough on the baking stone.  Bake at 450º F for about 30 minutes, or until golden brown and fully cooked.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool thoroughly before slicing.

Arepas, For The Last Time!

Wednesday, December 30th, 2009

Week Fifty-Three: For The Last Time!

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In the middle of making (or trying to make) arepas for the first time, I realized that plain corn meal is not the same thing as masarepa (arepa flour).  Not at all.  I had never tasted or even seen an arepa before, and my idea of what exactly they were was fuzzy at best, but I could clearly tell that what I was making was not an arepa.

Masarepa and corn meal are about as much alike as bread crumbs and flour; both are made from the same basic stuff, but the latter is milled raw, while the former is cooked, then milled.  As you can imagine, the two do not act at all similarly in a dough.  After I managed to track down some proper masarepa, I was able to see for myself exactly how massive the difference was.

Corn meal, when mixed with liquid, kinda just sits there, never fully absorbing the moisture.  Masarepa, on the other hand, quickly absorbs liquid, turning into a dough with an almost putty-like consistency.  You are then able to easily form it into the traditional English-muffin-shape, something regular corn meal could never do.

While mixing the arepa dough, I was struck with the way it smelled: it smelled exactly like the Quaker instant grits I grew up on.  Considering the similarities in basic composition (ground cooked corn), I’m sure that’s no coincidence.

All that aside, real arepas are really tasty, you guys!  Rarely, if ever, eaten plain, the humble things bring a gentle corn sweetness to whatever you might fill them with.  You could describe them as very dense hamburger buns made of corn; but that does no justice to the soft and moist interior, or to the golden and enticingly crisp exterior, or to the slightly petite size that only helps make it dangerously easy to reach for another, as filling as they are.

Though masarepa (like all corn flours) comes in both white and yellow, you’ll find strict devotees to one color or the other, arguing fiercely that theirs is the only correct option.  As far as I’m concerned, the two varieties taste nearly identical; use whatever kind you prefer (or can find).  I used white here simply because I thought it would look pretty.

As far as filling goes, the sky’s the limit; I made some black-eyed pea burgers to help use up a giant pot of leftovers.  More traditional fillings would be items like cheese, vegetables, jam, eggs, pork, beef, or chicken.  A famous combination called La Reina Pepiada involves chicken, avocado, and mayonnaise (much like chicken salad), and sounds absolutely mouth-watering.

Whatever filling you choose, though, it should be heavily seasoned or spiced, as the relative blandness of the arepa will balance it beautifully, much like a tortilla does with, say, a very spicy pulled pork.  So in the event that you ever run across a bag of masarepa in your local supermercado, you may want to throw it in your cart.  As easy, fast, and delicious as real arepas are, you absolutely won’t regret it.

Arepas, For The Last Time!
Makes 8 arepas

2 cups masareapa (arepa flour)
1 scant teaspoon salt
3 cups water, divided
Vegetable oil, for browning

1.  Preheat the oven to 350º F.  Lightly grease a large baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.

2.  In a medium bowl, stir together the masarepa and salt.  Add 2 1/2 cups water, and stir until incorporated and all dry spots are moistened.  Check the consistency by rolling a bit of dough into a ball.  If it is too wet and sticks to your fingers, add more flour; if it is too dry to hold together in a ball without cracking, add more water.  Cover with plastic wrap and let stand for about 10 minutes; the dough will stiffen in this time.

3.  With moistened hands, form about 1/4 cup of dough into a ball, rolling between your palms and gently pressing to form a disc about 3 inches wide and 1/4 inch thick.  Gently press around the side with a wet finger to eliminate any cracks.  Transfer to the prepared baking sheet.  Repeat the shaping with the remaining dough.

4.  Heat about 1 tablespoon oil in a large nonstick or cast iron skillet over medium-high heat until hot, but not smoking.  Brown arepas in batches of 2 or 3, or as many as will fit in the pan without crowding.  Flip once, and cook until each side is deeply golden, about 5 minutes per side.  Place again on the baking sheet after browning.

5.  When all the arepas have been browned, transfer the baking sheet to the oven. Bake at 350º F for 15 to 20 minutes, or until they sound lightly hollow when tapped.  Serve immediately.

Notes:
1.  If any dough is left over wrap it in plastic - to keep in the moisture - and place in fridge. It will keep for three to four days.

2.  Masarepa may be found in Mexican or Latino markets.  Goya or Harina PAN are well-regarded brands.

Matzo, For The Last Time!

Tuesday, December 29th, 2009

Week Fifty-Three: For The Last Time!

matzo-again

When I first made matzo, there was one important thing that I neglected to mention.  Matzo, you see, is an unleavened bread; but you all knew that.  What some of you may not know is how strict Jewish dietary law is about this.  From the time you mix the water into the flour, you have no more than 18 minutes to get those suckers into the oven.  After that time (which was determined… somehow?), fermentation begins, and any yeast present on the flour or in the air can begin to leaven the dough.

This all means, of course, that you have to work quickly to roll out your matzo.  And this brings me to the reason I neglected to mention the 18 minute window when I first made matzo.  I might be handy with a rolling pin, but I’m sure not fast with one. By the time I’d had the dough all rolled out, my 18 minutes were well and truly up.  I wasn’t about to tell you, Gentle Reader, to roll out dough in under 18 minutes when I myself couldn’t do it.

That’s not to say that I didn’t try, though; but my hasty rolling, however careful I tried to be, was awfully uneven, resulting in patchy matzo that was burnt crisp in some spots, and chewy-thick in other spots.  To get a better matzo, I was going to have to seriously up my rolling pin game, probably through months of arduous practice.

Or, you know, I could go to Plan B: the pasta roller.  I know they’re not common gadgets in American kitchens (the one at my house is on extended loan from a good friend with a truly miniscule kitchen), but I know of no other way to roll out dough so quickly and so evenly.  And yes, it worked like a charm.  I was able to whip up eight gorgeous ovals of matzo, that all browned evenly and perfectly, within the allotted 18 minutes.  I was working alone, but it of course would be more efficient if you had a friend to help out, especially with the docking (that always takes me longer than I think).

This recipe is for whole wheat matzo; if you prefer white flour, you may need to decrease the water a little.  The flavor is good, despite the total lack of time the dough has to develop any flavor-boosting enzymes or acids.  You can roll these to any thickness you like, but I think a thinner matzo works best; it turns out delightfully crisp.  Just be careful to not over-bake these, as they can go from crisp to tough sooner than you think.  Otherwise, as long as you can make these within 18 minutes, you can’t go wrong with this one.

Matzo, For The Last Time!
Adapted from Peter Reinhart
Makes 8 matzo

8 ounces (about 1 3/4 cups) whole wheat flour, plus extra for dusting as needed
1/2 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup water, at room temperature

1.  Thirty minutes before starting, preheat the oven to 350º F, heating a baking stone as well if you have one.  If not, just bake the matzo on a large baking sheet (not preheated).  Set up a pasta roller (by clamping to a countertop).  Lay out one or two large pieces of parchment paper, to hold the dough after rolling, either on a peel for sliding onto the baking stone, or on the baking sheet.

2.  In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour and salt.  Add the water, and stir until a shaggy dough forms.  Your 18 minutes begins as soon as the water hits the flour.  Turn the dough out onto an unfloured surface, and knead just until smooth, about 1 minute.

3.  Divide the dough into eight equal pieces.  Quickly form each piece into a roughly round shape.  Using the pasta roller at the thickest setting, roll each piece out, and set aside on a lightly floured surface.  Dust each piece lightly with additional flour as needed to prevent sticking.  Repeat rolling, using a thinner setting each time, until desired thickness is achieved.  Transfer rolled-out dough to the parchment paper.

4.  When all dough is all rolled out, thoroughly dock each piece with a fork, to prevent puffing in the oven.

5.  If using the baking stone, slide the parchment with the matzo directly onto the stone.  Otherwise, place baking sheet with matzo in the oven.  Bake at 350º F for 10-12 minutes, or until crisp and just barely browned.  Remove to a wire rack to cool.

Notes:
1.  You may choose to roll out half the dough at a time, baking in batches.  As long as you get it all into the oven within 18 minutes, you’re fine.

2.  If you don’t have to keep kosher, the dough will develop significantly better flavor and texture if you let it sit for about 1 hour at room temperature (or in the refrigerator overnight).

Orange and Mint Bread, For The Last Time!

Monday, December 28th, 2009

Week Fifty-Three: For The Last Time!

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And so, we come to my final week of bread.  Like I’ve done at the end of every three-month period so far, this week is devoted to righting all my bready wrongs.  It’s the week I get to have a second chance at recipes that I mishandled, ones that I tinkered with too much (or not enough), or ones that were just flops to begin with.

To begin, I’m revisiting a bread that didn’t exactly go wrong.  In fact, this orange- and mint-scented beauty was quite delicious the first time around; but half the reason I’d chosen to make it in the first place was the novel mixing method. Why, in my flour-addled state, I’d elected to forego this method in favor of the comfortable crutch of a stand mixer, I’ve still no idea.

This time around, I wasn’t going to let myself miss out on any of the sloppy fun.  And let me tell you, it was indeed that: sloppy and fun.  What started out as a messy, sticky, wet mass of goo ended up as one of the prettiest, silkiest doughs I’ve seen, all through a slightly brutal process of slapping, flinging, and generally roughing it up.  It’s liberating.

It seems hopeless at first, just an awful mess to have to clean up later; but then, magically, the dough starts to cooperate and come together in your hands.  Before your eyes, it morphs into a supple and smooth ball, the sort of thing you thought you needed a stand mixer to make.  And don’t be afraid to really slam it down and put it through the paces - as long as your counter is sturdy enough to take it, you’ll do no harm.  Once it starts to come together, the more you sling it around, the quicker you form the gluten.

The word “wondrous” comes to mind to explain the process; it’s really quite extraordinary.  Richard Bertinet, the chef who brings us this technique, aptly describes the finished dough as being “full of life”.  It’s springy, vibrant, and gorgeous.

But however admirable the dough may be, the proof is in the baking.  The first time around, when I made the dough with the stand mixer, the bread ended up very pretty, shiny and properly dark-crusted, with good flavor and texture.  Nothing had seemed wrong with it… until a tried a slice from this second batch.

I can’t really explain what the difference was, but all I know is I couldn’t stop eating it.  Soft and buttery, each slice was like a reprimand for not trying it sooner.  Like in many similarly rich breads, there was a gentle citrus brightness, but here it was the warmth of orange, as opposed to the more typical zing of lemon.

My one complaint is one that I had with the first attempt as well: the lack of mint flavor.  I even doubled the amount of mint this time, but it still didn’t come through in the final loaves.  I suggest either not bothering with the mint at all, or adding a few drops of peppermint oil to really give it a boost.

Otherwise, I found this light and flavorful bread absolutely sublime.  Between the fantastic flavor, the impeccable texture, the picture-perfect looks, and the gleefully messy and almost gymnastic mixing technique, I couldn’t choose my favorite aspect of this one if I had to.

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Orange and Mint Bread, For The Last Time!
Adapted from Richard Bertinet, via Gourmet Magazine
Makes 2 loaves

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons milk
1 to 2 bunches mint, leaves only (about 1 cup, tightly packed)
18 ounces (about 3 3/4 cups) unbleached bread flour
2 teaspoons instant yeast
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon grated orange zest
1/2 stick unsalted butter, softened
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon Cointreau or other orange-flavored liqueur
1 large egg, beaten with a pinch of salt to make an egg wash

1.  To make mint-infused milk, bring milk and mint just to a simmer in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Remove from heat and let stand, covered, 1 hour.  Strain through a sieve and discard mint.  Milk can be chilled for up to a few days at this point; reheat as needed before using per recipe.

2.  Heat milk to 120 to 130° F.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, yeast, sugar, salt, and zest.  Add milk, eggs, and liqueur.  Using a large nonstick spatula or bowl scraper, mix until a very wet, sticky dough forms.  Don’t be tempted to add more flour.

3.  Scrape dough out onto an unfloured surface.  Slide your fingers underneath both sides of the dough with your thumbs on top.  Lift dough up (to about chest level) with your thumbs toward you, letting dough hang slightly.  In a continuous motion, swing dough down, slapping bottom of dough onto surface, then stretch dough up and back over itself in an arc to trap in air.  Repeat lifting, slapping, and stretching, scraping surface with flat side of bowl scraper as needed, until dough is supple, cohesive, and starts to bounce slightly off of surface without sticking, about 8 minutes.  For a video showing the proper technique, click here.

4.  Form the dough into a ball by folding the outside edges into the center of the dough, pressing down to seal.  Transfer the dough to a large, lightly oiled bowl, seam side down.  Cover tightly with a plastic wrap.  Let sit at warm room temperature for 1 hour (dough may or may not double in size).

4.  Remove plastic wrap and, using a broad nonstick spatula, fold the dough over itself, as though you were folding a letter: 1/3 over the center, then the opposite 1/3 over that.  Lastly, fold dough in half again, perpendicular to the first folds (like you’re folding the letter in half).  Dough should end up being roughly a square.  Replace towel or plastic wrap, let dough rise until doubled again, about 1 hour.

5.  Lightly grease a large baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.  Gently turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, taking care not to punch down or deflate too much, and divide into 2 equal pieces.  Flatten each piece with the heel of your hand into a rectangle, about 8 x 6 inches in size.  Fold a long edge into center and press seam down to seal.  Fold opposite edge over to meet in center, pressing seam to seal.  Fold in half along seam, pressing edges to seal. Transfer to the prepared baking sheet, seam side down, and cover loosely.  Repeat shaping with remaining dough.

6.  Brush tops of loaves with some of the egg wash, chilling remainder.  Let stand a few minutes until egg feels dry.  Cover with a dry kitchen towel (not terry cloth) and let rise at warm room temperature until almost doubled, and feeling springy when gently prodded with a fingertip, about 1½ hours.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat oven to 425º F, and position a rack in the middle of the oven.

7.  When fully risen, gently brush top of each loaf again with the egg wash, taking care not to deflate.  Using a sharp serrated knife, make three decisive slashes diagonally down the center of each loaf, letting only the weight of the blade press into the dough.   Transfer to the oven and immediately reduce temperature to 400º F.

8.  Bake at 400º F until loaves are a dark golden brown, 20 to 30 minutes.  An instant-read thermometer should register about 200º F when fully baked.  Transfer to a rack to cool completely before slicing.

Notes:
1.  After heating the milk and mint, and straining, remeasure to make sure you still have enough.  I found my milk had lost about 1 tablespoon of volume in the heating process.  Add milk as necessary.

Challah

Saturday, December 26th, 2009

Week Fifty-Two: Christmas Breads

challah

I feel safe in offering up challah as the final bread in this week of Christmas breads; for challah, like the bagel, has long ago entered the panary repertoire of the goyim, no longer a strange or foreign item.  But the grouping is still apt, as challah is a celebration bread in Jewish tradition, as the rest of the breads this week have been.

Generally speaking, challah is made with a rich dough, like all the other breads this week have been.  But unlike them, it is only mildly sweetened to the point of being nearly savory, and only eggs are used to enrich the dough (as opposed to milk and/or butter), so that the bread may be eaten with meat according to Jewish dietary law.  The gluten structure is well formed here, giving each airy bite a slight pull and pleasant chew.

This recipe uses a lengthy fermentation, giving a fabulous depth of flavor, and excellent texture.  As has become customary in the last century, this loaf is braided, and can be split into however many strands you like (the recipe only uses a 3 strand braid).  But however you choose to form it, this recipe will produce a really excellent bread, no matter if it’s served at your Shabbat meal, or used for the French toast you whip up on Christmas morning.

Challah
Adapted from The Bread Baker’s Apprentice, by Peter Reinhart
Makes 1 large loaf, or two smaller loaves

19 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached bread flour
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 whole large eggs, slightly beaten
1 large egg, yolk and white separated
1 cup water, at room temperature

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, and yeast.  Add the oil, eggs, egg yolk, and 1 cup water.  Using the dough hook attachment, mix at low speed until a rough dough forms.

2.  Increase the speed to medium-low, and continue kneading until the dough becomes soft and supple, about 6 minutes.  The dough should not be sticky; add additional flour or water as needed to correct the consistency.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface.  Shape the dough into a ball by pulling the outside edges into the center, and pressing gently.  Transfer the dough to a large, lightly oiled bowl, rolling it around to coat it with oil, leaving the dough smooth side up.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap, and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour.

4.  Using a large nonstick spatula, tri-fold the dough over itself, as you would fold a letter.  Fold the dough in half, perpendicular to the other folds, as though you were folding the letter in half crossways.  Cover again with plastic wrap, and let sit an additional hour at room temperature.  The dough should be not quite doubled in size.

5.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and gently deflate.  Divide it into 3 equal pieces for 1 large loaf, or 6 pieces for 2 loaves.  Form each of the pieces into a rope as long as the dough will allow, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and let rest on the counter for 10 minutes.

6.  Lightly grease a large baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.  Roll each rope into a strand, all of the same length.  Braid three strands together.  Transfer the loaf (or loaves) to the prepared pan.

7.  Beat the remaining egg white with 1 tablespoon water to make an egg wash.  Brush the loaf (or loaves) with the egg wash (refrigerating the remainder).  Cover loosely with lightly oiled plastic wrap, and let sit at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, 60 to 75 minutes.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 350° F, placing an oven rack in the middle position.

8.  Gently brush the loaf (or loaves) again with the egg wash, taking care not to deflate.  Bake at 350º F for 20 minutes.  Rotate the pan 180º and continue baking for 20 to 45 minutes, depending on the size of the loaf (or loaves).  The bread should be a rich golden brown, and and instant-read thermometer should register around 190° F when inserted into the center.  Transfer the bread to a wire rack to cool for at least 1 hour before serving.

Kolach (Ukranian Christmas Bread)

Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

Week Fifty-Two: Christmas Breads

kolach

In the Ukraine, bread is such a significant part of everyday life that there is an old and, now, formal way of greeting that involves an elaborate presentation of bread and salt, two main dietary staples.  Small wonder, then, that this nation produces some of the more elaborate celebration breads out there.

Today’s bread, kolach, is the traditional centerpiece of the Ukrainian Christmas table.  Named for its shape (”kolo” means ring or circle), kolach is a wreath-shaped or round bread, formed with elaborate braids and twists of dough.  They can range from the merely decorative to the baroque in complexity; here, I’ve used a relatively basic shaping method (with copious photos to help).

The dough is a moderately rich one, with most of the liquid coming from milk, eggs, and butter.  The effect of all this enrichment isn’t heavy, but rather quite light and fluffy.  A short autolyse (or, cat nap after mixing) gives a fantastic and slight pull to the airy crumb, and the result may remind you of a lean brioche.  It was a big hit with my family, and despite the moderate sweetness, it went well with everything from butter and jelly to ham and cheese.

Traditionally, this bread is stacked three rings high, with a candle burning in the middle, but I only went as high as two rings.  I’m unclear if this triple-stacking is meant to happen before or after the bread is baked, so you’ll have to pardon any lack of authenticity here.  But as delicious as this bread is, I doubt I’ll have too many complaints.

Kolach (Ukranian Christmas Bread)
Adapted from King Arthur Flour
Makes 1 round loaf

For the starter:
1/2 cup milk, at room temperature
5 1/2 ounces (about 1 1/4 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons instant yeast

For the dough:
9 ounces (2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 cup water, at room temperature
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, softened
2 tablespoons honey
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon rum
1 teaspoon lemon extract

1 large egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water to make an egg wash

1.  In a medium bowl, combine the milk, flour, and yeast.  Stir until a sticky dough forms.  Cover loosely and let rest in a warm place until risen and puffy, about 1 hour.

2.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine all the remaining ingredients (except egg wash).  Add the starter and mix at low speed, using the dough hook attachment, until just mixed.  Turn the mixer off, and without removing the bowl or dough hook, cover loosely with plastic wrap.  Let stand in place for 15 minutes.

3.  Remove the plastic wrap.  Increase the speed to medium-low, and continue kneading until the dough is soft and smooth, about 6 minutes.  Transfer the dough to a large, lightly oiled bowl.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let the dough rise until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.

4.  Thoroughly butter or grease a 9 inch round pan with tall sides, such as a cake or springform pan.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface.  Divide the dough into two pieces, one slightly larger than the other.

kolach-1

Divide the larger piece into equal halves, and divide the smaller piece into equal thirds.

kolach-2

5.  Shape each piece into a rope about 25 to 30 inches long.  If the dough resists, shape the rope as long as the dough will allow; cover and let rest 5 to 10 minutes before proceeding.

6.  Using the two thicker ropes, cross them on your work surface in an “X” shape.

kolach-3

Starting in the middle, twist the ropes together.

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Pinch the ends firmly to seal.

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Set the rope aside, and cover loosely.

7.  Using the three smaller ropes, lay them parallel to each other on your work surface.  Starting in the middle, braid them together as shown.

kolach-6

kolach-7

kolach-8

kolach-9

Repeat the braiding on the other half of the ropes.  Pinch the ends firmly to seal.  Set aside and cover loosely.

8.  Arrange the first twisted rope in a circle around the inside bottom edge of the prepared pan.  Pinch the ends together firmly to seal.  The circle of dough may or may not be quite as big as your pan.

kolach-10

Arrange the braided rope in a ring on top of the circle of twisted dough, matching the seams up, and pinching the ends to seal.

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This can either be left as is, or you can place a heavily-buttered metal ring 3 inches tall (such as a tall cookie cutter, or a tall tin can opened at both ends) in the center of the ring to help hold its shape.  This will also help the braided dough stay on top of the twisted dough, as it can have a tendency to fall to the inside as the loaf rises.

kolach-12

9.  Cover the dough loosely with lightly greased plastic wrap, and let rise at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, about 1 hour.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 350º F.

10.  Gently brush the dough with the egg wash, taking care not to deflate it.  Bake at 350º F for 15 minutes, then lower the temperature to 325º F and continue baking for 30 minutes more, or until golden brown.  An instant-read thermometer should register 195º to 200º F when inserted into the center.  Remove the bread from the pan, and transfer to a wire rack to cool thoroughly before slicing.

Notes:
1.  To shape the kolach, you may either use a round pan, or you may shape it freeform on a greased or parchment-lined baking sheet.  This recipe gives directions for using a round pan, but may be easily adapted to a flat baking sheet.  If you bake the kolach in a round pan, as I have done, you will end up with a taller bread.  If you bake it freeform on a baking sheet, you will end up with a flatter, but prettier, loaf, as the braiding and twisting will be wholly visible.

Wild Rice and Cranberry Rolls

Saturday, December 19th, 2009

Week Fifty-One: Gift Breads

wild-rice-rolls

This last gift bread is a very versatile one; originally titled “morning rolls”, they would make a fine alternative to the typically saccharine “special houseguest” breakfast  of pancakes, sticky buns, French toast, or waffles.  The dough is very lean, with a texture similar to a dinner roll, sweetened with dried cranberries, and made moist and hearty with cooked wild rice.

You could just as easily serve these rolls for dinner; the jammy cranberries almost beg to be served with fruit-loving pork, or simply roasted chicken.  They also paired delightfully with a giant bowl of crisp and fresh salad.  And yet they were just at home next to a fried egg, spread with a pat of butter or even dunked into a cup of coffee.

The chewy bite and slightly grassy notes of wild rice blends gorgeously with the rustic texture of whole wheat flour and the buttery crunch of toasted walnuts, while the cranberries bring a pleasantly tart counterpoint to the otherwise nutty flavors.

Though this recipe calls for wild rice, it can be difficult to find, or prohibitively expensive.  More commonly available is a blend of wild rice and white or brown rice, which is perfectly fine to use instead, though the flavor will be slightly different.

Whether served at night or in the morning, these soft rolls are an excellent trick to have up your sleeve, to serve to guests or to bring to a dinner party as a hostess gift; and if that isn’t a gift during the holiday season, I don’t know what is.

Wild Rice and Cranberry Rolls
Adapted from Emma Christensen, via the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
Makes 12 rolls

2 ounces (1/2 cup) walnuts
12 ounces (about 2 1/2 cups) unbleached bread flour
2 1/2 ounces (about 1/2 cup) whole wheat flour
2 1/4 teaspoon instant yeast
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/4 cups water, at room temperature
2 tablespoons molasses
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 ounces (3/4 cup) cooked wild rice (see note 1 below)
2 ounces (1/2 cup) dried cranberries
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly, for finishing

1.  Preheat the oven to 350º F.  Spread the walnuts in a single layer on a baking sheet and roast for 10 to 12 minutes or until fragrant, tossing halfway through.  Chop while still warm, and set aside.

2.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flours, yeast, and salt.  Add the water, molasses, and olive oil.  Using the dough hook, mix at low speed until a rough dough forms.

3.  Increase the speed to medium-low and continue kneading until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 7 minutes.  The dough will be slack, but should clear the sides of the bowl.  Add additional flour or water as needed to correct the consistency.

4.  Decrease the speed to low, and add the walnuts, wild rice, and cranberries in that order, turning the speed up to medium and allowing each addition to incorporate in turn.  Mix at medium until all are evenly distributed.

5.  Transfer the dough to a large, lightly-oiled bowl, turning to coat all sides of the dough with oil.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, 60 to 75 minutes.

6.  Lightly oil a large baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface, pressing gently to deflate.  Divide the dough into 12 equal pieces, and shape each into a round ball.  Transfer each piece to the prepared baking sheet, smooth side up, and flatten slightly by pressing gently but firmly.  Cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and let stand at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, 50 to 60 minutes.  Thirty minutes before baking, turn the oven to 400º F.

7.  Gently brush the tops of the rolls with the melted butter, taking care not to deflate.  Bake at 400º F for about 20 minutes, or until golden brown and baked through.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool thoroughly.

Note:
1.  To cook wild rice, boil 3 to 4 quarts water.  Add 1 tablespoon salt and 1 cup wild rice.  Return to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.  Simmer uncovered for 45 to 60 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add additional hot water as needed if the rice becomes exposed.  The rice is done when the grains have split open and are no longer crunchy, though they should be a bit chewy.  Drain rice through a strainer.

Freezer Biscuits

Tuesday, December 15th, 2009

Week Fifty-One: Gift Breads

freezer-biscuits-2

This bread isn’t so much a gift for others as it is a gift for you, the host or hostess with sleepover guests.  Sure, we’d all love to have our guests wake up to visions of us looking like Donna Reed, makeup impeccably done, dressed to the nines, and presenting a Martha-esque breakfast spread of perfect biscuits, jam and butter, coffee, and heck, maybe some eggs too.  But we all know that’s never going to happen, right?

Well, honey, get out your powder and blush, because I’ve got the rest covered.  Jam and butter?  Easy, just take them out of the fridge.  Coffee?  That’s what that little “timer” button on the machine is for; set it up the night (or afternoon) before.  (French press users, you’re on your own.)  Eggs?  Scramble them over low heat, so you don’t forget them and burn them.  And the biscuits?  Pull them out of your freezer, bake, serve.  Modestly collect acclaim.

And the best thing is that I’m totally serious about the last part.  Today’s recipe is for so-called Freezer Biscuits; that is, biscuits you make up to a month in advance, stash away unbaked in the freezer, and pull out and bake as many as you need whenever you need them.  They’re like those God-awful, but so tantalizingly convenient biscuits sold in the frozen food aisle; but these are homemade and have no scary preservatives or “flavorings”.  They bake best when totally frozen (in fact, they don’t really work if thawed, or baked immediately after mixing), so there’s not even any thawing down time.

But for me, convenience alone is not worth having to suffer through sub-par biscuits.  Admittedly, I’ve become a bit of a biscuit snob over the course of this year, so my standards are maybe higher than anyone else’s.  These biscuits might be the easiest things in the world to cook, but so is opening a can of pre-made dough.  If these don’t taste good, why bother?

To my great relief (and yes, amazement), these biscuits are just as good as a more standard biscuit, but with significantly less worry.  I purposefully over-kneaded this dough a little, just to see how they’d turn out if a biscuit novice tried this recipe.  I over-baked them slightly — actually a mistake, but a nice test all the same.  Finally, I first tried a biscuit from the last round of scrap-gathering and rolling, typically the toughest of the bunch.

All of this should have added up to a hockey-puck-biscuit experience, but this little guy was as tender as any biscuit I’ve made before.  Not the flakiest recipe, but fluffy as all get out, and they certainly did smile at me.  The only qualm I have with this recipe is the lack of buttery flavor that I’ve come to expect from a biscuit; but as there’s no butter involved, all the fat coming from cream, I really can’t hold that against it.  Besides, you can always add butter at the table; everyone does anyway.

I’ve kept these biscuits on the small side, because I personally can always have another biscuit, no matter how many I’ve had.  Smaller biscuits are therefore a good thing, a bit like biscuit cookies.  If you like yours larger, feel free to use a larger cutter; be aware that they will take even 5 to 10 minutes longer to bake in that case.

Easy, nearly foolproof, do-ahead, and delicious: could this be the perfect biscuit recipe?  The next time you have houseguests oohing and aahing over your homemade, freshly-baked biscuits, you be the judge.  I just hope you’ll remember who to thank.  And no, you don’t really have to put on makeup.

freezer-biscuits-1

Freezer Biscuits
Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated
Makes 25 to 30 two inch biscuits

13 1/2 ounces (about 3 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 1/4 cups cold heavy cream

1.  Lightly butter a rimmed baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.

2.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt.  Stir in the cream with a nonstick spatula until a dough forms, about 30 seconds.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and gather into a ball.  Knead the dough briefly until smooth, about 60 seconds, dusting with extra flour as needed to prevent sticking.

4.  Pat or roll the dough into a flat circle, about 3/4 inch thick.  Cut out the biscuits using a 2 inch round cutter.   Transfer the biscuits to the prepared baking sheet, leaving about 1/2 inch space in between.

5.  Gather up the scraps of dough, shaking off any excess flour, and reknead briefly to combine.  Pat or roll the dough again into a 3/4 inch thick round, and cut as many biscuits as possible.  Repeat the gathering, rolling, and cutting for a third time.  Any remaining scraps of dough should be either discarded or gently patted into rustic hand-formed biscuits.

6.  Wrap the baking sheet tightly with lightly oiled plastic wrap.  Freeze the biscuits until frozen solid, 6 to 8 hours.  Transfer the frozen biscuits to a plastic zip-top freezer bag, and freeze for up to 1 month.  Do not thaw before baking.

7.  To bake the biscuits, preheat the oven to 450º F, and place a rack in the upper-middle position.  Lay the frozen biscuits on a lightly buttered or parchment-lined baking sheet, spacing about 2 inches apart.  Bake at 450º F until puffed and golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes.  Serve immediately.

Notes:
1.   If baking a large amount of biscuits, bake only as many as will fit on one baking sheet at a time; do not bake more than one pan at the same time.

Olive, Cheese, and Salami Quick Bread

Monday, December 14th, 2009

Week Fifty-One: Gift Breads

le-cake-2

Yes, Christmas is next week. And though the time has flown by for me too, I won’t bore you with more talk of “OMG!can you believe it!!1!”  What it really means is that you’ll be invited to someone’s house, or hosting in your own.  There’ll be anything from a five minute “Hello, Goodbye” chat, to a multi-course sit-down dinner (with or without wine pairings), to a several-day stay.

And people, you’d better not show up empty-handed.  So to help you out, this week is dedicated to gift breads.  These are breads to bring to a party as a hostess gift, to pack along in your suitcase as a lovely “thank you”, or to pull out for your sleepover guests for breakfast.

First is a savory quick bread, inspired by the craze for such that is currently sweeping French kitchens.  Where you might find chocolate, nuts, or fruit in a typical quick bread, here there is instead cheese, meat, and olives.  The effect is quite French and, of course, quite delicious.

The plentiful use of cream and milk lends a richness to the crumb, making it worthy of its French name, “le cake”.  Moist and tender, it threatens to crumble in your hand, just barely held together by the melted cubes of Havarti cheese, top and bottom crusts crisp with baked Parmesan.  Intensely flavorful bits of browned salami compete for attention with salty olives, both of which are made more vibrant with the green brightness of fresh parsley and basil.

Though you might not serve this for breakfast, it would be an excellent addition to any brunch menu, or would make a charming snack (in the afternoon or late at night).  And certainly, anyone would count themselves lucky to be on the receiving end of this amazing bread.

le-cake-1

 

Olive, Cheese, and Salami Quick Bread
Adapted from A Table in the Tarn, by Orlando Murrin
Makes one 9 x 5 inch loaf

2 ounces (about 3/4 cup) coarsely grated Parmesan cheese
4 ounces (about 1 cup) cubed salami
2 1/2 ounces (about 3/4 cup) olives, rinsed, pitted and coarsely chopped
18 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 ounces (about 1 cup) cubed Havarti or other semisoft cheese
2 tablespoons freshly chopped herbs (such as parsley, basil, chives, dill)
1 cup milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup plain yogurt
1 large egg
1 tablespoon olive oil

1.  Preheat the oven to 350º F.  Lightly butter a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan, and sprinkle with half the Parmesan, reserving the rest.

2.  In a medium skillet over medium heat, cook the salami until just beginning to brown.  Leave to cool in the pan, and mix in the olives.

3.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder, cayenne, salt, and pepper.  Add the Havarti, herbs, salami, and olives, tossing to combine.

4.  In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the milk, cream, yogurt, egg, and olive oil.  Using a nonstick spatula, quickly and gently fold the wet ingredients into the dry, until just combined.  The batter should be wet and sticky.

5.  Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and sprinkle the remaining Parmesan on top.  Bake at 350º F for about 45 minutes, or until golden brown on top and a skewer comes out clean when inserted into the center (be aware that if it hits some melted cheese, it will come out sticky).

6.  Let cool in the pan for 10 to 15 minutes before turning out.  Serve warm, or let cool thoroughly on a wire rack before wrapping tightly and freezing.

 

Notes:
1.  Instead of salami, feel free to use pancetta, bacon, speck, prosciutto, sausage, or whatever you prefer.

2.  I used an even mixture of parsley and basil, but whatever fresh herbs you like would be fantastic too.