A Bread A Day

Week Twenty-Seven: Try It Again; This Time With Feeling.

Well, it’s that time again: I’ve gotten through another three months.  That’s right, Faithful Readers, it’s the halfway point!  Woo!  Six months down, six months to go!

*confetti*

So this means that this week, like the final week of the first quarter of the year, I’m devoting my time to re-doing all those breads that didn’t quite turn out right the first time around.  For those of you just joining in, I’ll explain.  You may have noticed that one of my rules for this year was to make a different recipe of bread each day.  That  is all well and good; except that it doesn’t give me the chance to address or correct any mistakes.  It also means, unfortunately, that if there was a particularly enjoyable bread, I have to wait until at least January 1st to taste it again!  (And I think we all know how much cooking anyone does that day, assuming the night before goes according to plan, am I right?)

So, to kick things off this week, I’m giving fougasse another try.  You may have noticed a dirty little trick I used in that post; writing mainly about the history of the bread, and not a whole lot about the flavor of that particular end product.  Yes, I’m afraid that was because it didn’t turn out terribly well.  It was rather dry and crumbly, not at all what I had such high hopes for.

Of course, that may also have been the result of me not getting to taste it until the morning after it was baked, generally a big faux pas for fougasse.  Fougasse, originally, were created as a way of checking the temperature of an oven.  They were essentially the smallest bits of dough you could bake while not wasting any, and still ending up with something to serve at dinner.  Being by nature so quick to bake, they also dry out quickly; you will most always find, somewhere in the recipe, an admonition to eat fougasse the same day it’s made.

So I confess, I didn’t taste my fougasse until 12 to 16 hours after it was baked, during which time it certainly dried out.  But even still, I think it was probably on the dry side from the minute it came out of the oven.  What a waste of delicious cheese, pistachios, and orange flower water!  This time around, I decided to use a more humble, but still quite authentically Provençal, flavoring: oil-cured olives.

I don’t know if you’re familiar with oil-cured olives, but I just love them.  They look a bit like giant raisins, all shriveled up.  But oh, man! do they pack a punch!  I find them much to strong to eat out of hand; but chopped up, I can find a million uses for them.  If you like some giant flavors (think caramelized onions, crushed red pepper, anchovies, etc.), you’re sure to love these.  Here, though, I’ve used a restrained hand with them, using just enough to get little punches of concentrated olive flavor throughout the bread, but not enough to overwhelm.

And this time, I did well.  I’m quite proud of these fougasse (fougasses?)! 

Like the first time around, this dough uses a starter, which lends a greater complexity of flavor, but also makes the dough easier to work with while shaping.  The shaping is deceptively simple to achieve - just flatten, cut, and pull, how easy is that!? - but every little bit helps.  And remember, if the dough starts to resist being shaped, just cover it and give it a 10 minute nap!

The crumb this time is a bit short, from the olive oil, meaning that you won’t find a chewy, artisinal bread (with long gluten, get it?) here; it’s more akin to certain pizza crusts in texture.  The hits of salty olive in the dough is nicely enhanced with a light dusting of salt on top, and gives everything just enough flavor.  And so pretty, too!  Could you even imagine a prettier centerpiece for a special meal?  I’m calling this one a firm success.  And I think this version might just go in my permanent recipe file!

the streaks on the dough are from lazily drizzling on the olive oil; it's best to brush it on gently!

Cured-Olive Fougasse
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine
Makes 2 loaves

For starter:
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast (see note 1 below)
2 1/4 ounces (1/2 cup) unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 cup moderately hot water (120º to 130° F)

For dough:
1 tablespoon honey
2/3 cup warm water (100º to 110º F)
2 teaspoons orange-flower water (optional)
1/3 cup olive oil, plus extra for brushing on shaped dough
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus extra for finishing
15 ounces (about 3 1/4 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour, divided
1/2 cup oil-cured black olives, pitted and chopped finely

1.  To make starter, whisk together flour and yeast in bowl of mixer.  Add water, and whisk until mixture is smooth.  Cover with plastic wrap, and let rise 30 minutes, or refrigerate for up to 8 hours.  If refrigerated, let come to room temperature 20 minutes before proceeding.

2.  To make dough, stir the honey into the warm water until dissolved.   Add that mixture, the orange-flower water, olive oil, and half of the flour to the starter in the mixer bowl.  Using the dough hook at low speed, mix until smooth, about 1 minute.  Add all but 1 ounce (1/4 cup) of the remaining flour, and knead at low speed until a soft dough forms.  Increase the speed to medium-low, and knead until smooth and elastic, and the dough forms a cohesive ball that pulls away from the sides of the bowl, about 5 minutes.  Add the remaining flour as needed to achieve the proper consistency.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface.  Knead a few times, sprinkling the work surface lightly with flour if dough is very sticky, forming dough into a ball with a skin stretched around the outside.  Transfer the dough, smooth side up, to a large, lightly oiled bowl, turning dough to coat all sides with oil.  Cover with plastic wrap and let dough rise in a warm place until doubled in size, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

4.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface.  Gently deflate, and press the dough into a round about 10 inches across, or as big as the dough will allow.  Don’t force it; stop if the dough starts to resist.  Sprinkle the olives across the surface of the dough, and fold the sides in to cover the olives.  Knead gently until the olives are evenly integrated throughout the dough (some may fall out, just press them back in).  Cover the dough loosely with plastic wrap, and let rest 15 minutes.

5.  Lightly oil two baking sheets, or line with parchment paper.  Divide the dough into two equal pieces.  Press or roll each half out to an oval about 12 inches long and 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick.  If the dough starts to resist, cover loosely, and let rest for 5 to 10 minutes before trying again.  Carefully transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheets, one loaf per sheet.

6.  Using a sharp knife or a bench scraper, make a cut down center of each oval, being sure to cut all the way through, and leaving a 1 inch border on each end of the cut.  Make 3 shorter diagonal cuts on each side of the first cut, leaving a 1-inch border on each end of the cuts.  The result is meant to look like the veins of a leaf; do not connect the cuts.  Using your fingers, gently stretch the dough and pull the cuts apart to form holes about 1 1/2 inches across.  Let the shaped loaves rest, uncovered, until slightly risen, about 30 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 375° F.

7.  Gently brush the loaves with olive oil, being careful not to deflate, and sprinkle lightly with additional kosher salt.  Bake at 375º F for 20 minutes, then switch the positions of the baking sheets and rotate 180º, to ensure even baking.  Continue baking for another 15 to 20 minutes, or until loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on bottom.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool slightly before serving.

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, increase the amount to 2 teaspoons.  Additionally, your water should be a bit cooler, at 105º to 115º F.

2.  Fougasse are best served the day they’re made; but that’s not an option, or if you can’t finish it all, you can freeze them, wrapped tightly.  Thaw in a 350º oven for 5 to 10 minutes, or until warmed through.

3.  The orange flower water is optional, but it lends a nice note if you have some around.  If you don’t, you could substitute orange juice or additional water instead.

Week Twenty-Six: Same Dough, Different Method

[Oh my gosh, you guys!  I forgot to post this!  It was all written, and I totally forgot to hit the "publish" button!  Sorry sorry sorry!]

The last variation of the week draws inspiration from that wonder of the baking world, Jim Lahey’s No-Knead Bread.  The principle there is that time does practically all of the work for you, stretching the gluten out slowly instead of having to knead it at all.  It also gives the yeast time to produce as much lactic and acetic acid as possible, which vastly improves the flavor and keeping qualities of the bread.

Knowing that time is one of the most important ingredients in the best breads, I decided to give my dough as much time as I could manage in a day.  In order to do that, I needed to reduce the amount of yeast I used.

A quick word about yeast: those little guys will keep on growing and multiplying as long as the temperature stays within a certain range (not too cold or too hot), and as long as they have food.  That means that even a few grains of yeast will leaven all the dough in the world, given enough time.

Thinking logically, if x amount of yeast leavens the dough in 1 hour, then to leaven the same dough in twice as much time, 2 hours, you would need to halve the amount of yeast.  Less yeast, more time.  So to leaven my dough in 4 hours would require x/4 amount of yeast, or 3/8 teaspoon in this case.  But would it really be that simple?  There was only one way to find out!

Yes, it was really that simple, she said, doing away with any suspense.  In fact, it was spot-on.  In four hours, my dough was perfectly risen, and actually smelling quite delicious.  But unlike a typical straight-dough method, where the first and second rises take the same length of time, this time the second rise took less time than the first, as the yeast had multiplied by then, and needed less time to produce the same leavening.

But the real test came in the tasting.  And boy, was it worth the wait!  This was definitely the winning variation!  The texture was just perfect, soft and supple, while still being appropriately chewy.  The crust was thin and crisp, and was a beautiful golden color.  And the flavor!  So delicious!  The autolyse method had produced the most complex flavors so far, but this blew that away.  It wasn’t more sourdough-y, as I thought it might be, nor was it more robust, it was simply better.  It was really, really excellent!

You can absolutely use this method to adapt any bread recipe, which will surely improve the flavor and texture of your favorite loaf.  One caveat with trying it, though, is that your dough should not be fully kneaded, as the gluten continues to develop throughout the long rise.  If you knead what might otherwise be a proper amount, the gluten will eventually stretch out too much, and snap like a rubber band, resulting in a dense and tough bread.  Also, reduce the amount of flour slightly, as a wetter dough will produce a much better result.

So ends an exciting week in bread!  I’ve really enjoyed getting to know my methods better, and seeing exactly what they all do in my dough.  For me, I can read pontifications on the subject from now until doomsday, but it doesn’t really hit home until I can actually taste the difference for myself.  In the end, the best way to get as much flavor as possible from your four simple ingredients is to just give them time, either through a short autolyse, or with a long rise, if you can.  A combination of the two would probably work miracles, healing the lame, turning water into wine, and all that.  Here’s hoping you’ve learned as much as I have this week, and can start utilizing some of these methods to improve your own bread!  Happy baking!

The Long Rise Method
Makes 1 big loaf

18 ounces (a scant 4 cups) unbleached bread flour
3/8 teaspoon instant yeast, divided (see note 1 below)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups hot water (115º to 130º F)

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together all but a handful of the flour and all of the yeast.  Whisk in the salt.  Add the water and mix with the dough hook at low speed until a rough dough forms.  Scrape the bowl if needed, and increase the speed to medium-low and knead for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball, and becomes slightly elastic.  This dough should be a bit under-kneaded.  If the dough does not form a ball, add the reserved flour until the proper consistency is achieved.  The dough should be rather slack.

2.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few times, forming the dough into a round ball with a skin stretching over the outside.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, smooth side up.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 3 to 4 hours.

3.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Gently deflate the dough, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface.  Flatten the dough into a slight rectangle or oval shape.  Fold the two corners furthest away from you into the center of the dough, as though you were beginning to fold a paper airplane.  Starting with that point, roll the dough up into a cylinder, pressing gently to seal as you roll.  Press the final seam to seal.  Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends under if desired, to make a more attractive loaf.  Cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 425º F, and place another baking sheet or oven-safe pan in the bottom of the oven.  If you have a baking stone, heat it with the oven.  If not, your baking sheet is fine.

4.  When fully risen, and using a sharp serrated knife or clean razor blade, make three decisive slashes in the top of the loaf at a 45º angle, evenly spaced.  Transfer the bread to the oven (or baking stone, if using).  Immediately throw 4 or 5 ice cubes into the hot pan on the oven floor.  Bake for 10 minutes, adding additional ice cubes as they melt.

5.  After 10 minutes, remove the ice-cube-pan from the oven, and bake the loaf for an additional 15 to 25 minutes, or until deeply golden brown.  Remove the bread to a wire rack to cool before slicing. 

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, you should increase the amount to 1/2 teaspoon, and your water should be a bit cooler, around 105º F to 115º F.  Instead of mixing the active-dry yeast into the flour, you should dissolve all of it in a little of the warm water, in the mixing bowl.  Let stand for about 5 minutes, or until foamy.  Add the flour and salt, and proceed as directed.

Week Twenty-Six: Same Dough, Different Method

You all remember what a pre-ferment is, right?  Well, for those of you who can’t be bothered  to click on links, a pre-ferment is what you get when you ferment some of your ingredients for a long time before mixing all the ingredients into the final dough.  Yes, it’s just that easy; but, of course, being so easy, there’s nearly infinite variations.  Here goes.

A pre-ferment, also known in the vernacular as a “starter”, can vary wildly in hydration level, from as low as around 50% (twice as much flour as water, by weight), to well over 100% (equal amounts of flour and water, by weight); but generally, a pre-ferment is wetter than the final dough will be.  Oh, and that little “by weight” bit is important; remember that a cup of flour and a cup of water do not weigh the same!

So although the hydration level of your starter can vary, that level isn’t really important to the success or failure of your finished dough.  What is important in the finished dough is how much flour and water you add to that pre-ferment.  This is why it’s important to have either a good recipe, or a good eye for dough consistency, or best of all, both.

You can use this method with practically any bread recipe (take some of the flour, mix with some of the water, add a pinch of the yeast, let sit, etc.); but often, you won’t be able to add all of the flour that the original recipe called for.  This is because the portion of the flour used for the pre-ferment has soaked up much more liquid, sitting so long, than it would have if you just made a straight dough with the ingredients.  In turn, this means that there is less moisture available to hydrate the remaining flour.  Are you still with me?

Also, a pre-ferment is not an autolyse.  Remember, an autolyse (ideally, anyway) uses no yeast; a pre-ferment does.  The actual chemical changes taking place are similar, as a type of fermentation is actually taking place in both; but in a pre-ferment, the yeast begin to act, creating lactic and acetic acids, those crucial dough conditioners that strengthen your gluten and improve the flavor of your bread.  In an autolyse, the carbohydrates begin to break down into sugars, and the proteins begin the process of forming gluten.

But technicalities aside, how does it taste?  Well, if I’m honest, I’m a bit on the fence with this one.  So far, the winner this week has been the bread that used the autolyse method: that dough was soft and supple, it rose gorgeously, had a delightful oven-spring (how much it rises in the oven), the crust was a picture-perfect golden brown, and those air holes in the crumb were ideal.  And the taste was pretty spot on, nicely complex and tasting like bread ought.

This bread, however, the bread for today, was even more complex in flavor than that.  It had the faintest hint of a sourdough flavor, but only so slightly; otherwise, it was deep and - dare I use this word again? - complex.  Apologies, but there’s no other way I can think to say it!  It doesn’t taste of anything but bread, except it just tastes better.  So this bread edges out the autolyse in the “flavor” category.  Win!

As for texture, though, I was rather disappointed by the way the shaped and unbaked loaf deflated when I slashed it.  There was a reassuring amount of oven-spring; but the slight density of the crumb after baking remained as a finger-pointing reminder.  Perhaps I over-kneaded the dough, over-developing the gluten at first, causing the structure to collapse at the end?  That, to me, seems the most likely culprit; I’m sure I didn’t let it over-rise, or any other of the usual suspects involved in a dense bread.

The crust ended up perhaps a touch paler than I’d like to see ideally, but it was so beautifully crisp and thin that I’m willing to overlook that.  The interior was wonderfully chewy, and neither the crumb nor the crust was at all tough.  All in all, it didn’t turn out badly by any stretch of the imagination, pretty well, in fact; but I was expecting something a bit more airy, a bit more swiss-cheese, if you will.  With proper dough handling, I think this variation could be the winner.

So, to sum up, a pre-ferment is a great way to get as much flavor as possible out of your humble ingredients.  Just be careful not to over-knead when mixing the final dough (long and technical story short; though I can certainly explain if anyone really has a burning desire to know), lest your dough turn into a flat tire at the last second.  (There’s very little that’s quite as disappointing as watching all your time and effort literally dissipate into thin air!)  Yes, a pre-ferment takes a load of time; but that’s what the best breads are made of, and there’s just no replacing it!

The Pre-Ferment Method
Makes 1 big loaf

19 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached bread flour, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast (see note 1 below), divided
1 1/2 cups room temperature water, divided
1 teaspoon kosher salt

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together 6 ounces (about 1 1/4 cups) of the flour and 1/8 teaspoon of the yeast.  Add 6 ounces of the water and whisk until smooth.  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and let sit at room temperature for at least 6 and up to 10 hours.

2.  Remove the plastic wrap.  Add the remaining yeast, water, and all but a handful (about 1/2 cup) of the remaining flour.  Add the salt.  Using the dough hook, mix at low speed until a rough dough forms, about 1 minute.  Increase the speed to medium-low, and continue kneading for 5 to 7 minutes, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball that clears the sides of the bowl, and becomes elastic.  If the dough does not clear the sides of the bowl, add the reserved flour until the proper consistency is achieved.  The dough should not be stiff.  Take care not to over-knead.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few times, forming the dough into a round ball with a skin stretching over the outside.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, smooth side up.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

4.  Let the dough stand at room temperature for 45 minutes to 1 hour before proceeding.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Gently deflate the dough, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface.  Flatten the dough into a slight rectangle or oval shape.  Fold the two corners furthest away from you into the center of the dough, as though you were beginning to fold a paper airplane.  Starting with that point, roll the dough up into a cylinder, pressing gently to seal as you roll.  Press the final seam to seal.  Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends under if desired, to make a more attractive loaf.  Cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 425º F, and place another baking sheet or oven-safe pan in the bottom of the oven.  If you have a baking stone, heat it with the oven.  If not, your baking sheet is fine.

5.  When fully risen, and using a sharp serrated knife or clean razor blade, make three decisive slashes in the top of the loaf at a 45º angle, evenly spaced.  Transfer the bread to the oven (or baking stone, if using).  Immediately throw 4 or 5 ice cubes into the hot pan on the oven floor.  Bake for 10 minutes, adding additional ice cubes as they melt.

6.  After 10 minutes, remove the ice-cube-pan from the oven, and bake the loaf for an additional 15 to 25 minutes, or until deeply golden brown.  Remove the bread to a wire rack to cool before slicing.

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, your water should be a bit cooler, around 105º F to 115º F.  Instead of mixing the active-dry yeast into the flour, you should dissolve all of it in a little of the warm water, in the mixing bowl.  Let stand for about 5 minutes, or until foamy.  Add the flour and salt, and proceed as directed.

2.  If you would like the starter to be ready a little sooner, increase the amount of yeast to 1/4 teaspoon.  Let rest as directed, but it should be ready to use after about 3 or 4 hours.

3.  On the other hand, if you’d like a little more time out of your pre-ferment, make it as directed, then refrigerate it, covered, after letting it sit for 2 to 3 hours at room temperature (giving the yeast time to activate).  It can be refrigerated for up to 2 days; let stand at room temperature for 30 to 60 minutes before proceeding as directed in the recipe.

Week Twenty-Six: Same Dough, Different Method

Now this bread right here, the one pictured right above this line, this is why I’m doing all these variations.  Yesterday, I experimented with fermenting (aka: the first rise) the dough overnight in the refrigerator.  Today, I tried proofing the dough overnight in the refrigerator.  What’s the difference, you ask?

Well, the same chemical processes are taking place in both fermentation and proofing: yeast multiplies, converting carbohydrates into alcohol, carbon dioxide, and acids.  The network of gluten holds in gases, and the bread becomes leavened, or risen, in both stages.  But fermentation takes place before the bread is shaped, and proofing takes place afterwards.  Yes, that’s the only difference.  So what’s the point of this experiment?  How much difference could there possibly be? 

Plenty!  Yesterday’s bread, with an autolyse and a refrigerated overnight ferment, came out pretty much exactly like the bread from the day before, the one with an autolyse and a 1 hour room-temperature ferment.  Today’s bread, however, which used an autolyse and a refrigerated overnight proof, waaaaaas rubbish!

Okay, maybe “rubbish” is a bit harsh.  But this bread was definitely sub-par!  Perhaps the gluten became overdeveloped by sitting so long, because the oven-spring (how much the loaf rises in the oven) was minimal, as you can tell from the above picture.  The slashes are flat and even with the rest of the crust, see?  Now look at the picture of the bread from yesterday.  That’s a big difference!  And can you tell how squat and flat this bread is?

As you might have guessed from the lack of oven-spring, the crumb was a bit dense.  There were a few big air pockets, but overall, it was much less airy than the previous three variations.  The flavor was basically good, if a little sour (as all long-rising breads tend to be; it’s not necessarily a bad thing); but the texture was overly chewy, and the crust was somehow crisp and tough.

Not to mention that while the bread sat at room temperature after its chilly proof, just before baking, it developed a monster air bubble on one side, like a giant tumor.  It deflated like a flat tire when I slashed the bread, making the loaf lopsided, and looking a bit sad.  This particular part of the crust also bears the distinct and dubious honor of marking the first time I’ve ever cut myself on bread crust.  This was not a little puncture (which I’ve done before, tearing apart a slightly stale and particularly crusty bread), but a legitimate cut.  What the heck, bread?  What’d I ever do to you?

Oh, right - I let you proof in the fridge overnight.  I’m sorry, bread.  I promise never to do it again.  Unless, that is, explicitly instructed to by Nancy Silverton, or those of her ilk.  Otherwise, I pledge to autolyse as often as possible, ferment in the fridge if necessary, but never proof in the fridge!  Friends?  Okay!

The Overnight Proof Method
Makes 1 big loaf

19 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached bread flour
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast (see note 1 below)
1 1/2 cups hot water (115º to 130º F)
1 teaspoon kosher salt

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together all but a handful of the flour and all the yeast.  Add the water and mix with the dough hook at low speed until a rough dough forms, about 1 minute.  Turn the mixer off, and without removing the bowl or the hook, cover the bowl loosely with plastic wrap.  Let stand for at least 15 to 20 minutes, or up to 45 minutes.

2.  Remove the plastic wrap, and add the salt.  Continue kneading the dough, at medium-low speed.  Knead for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball that clears the sides of the bowl, and becomes elastic.  If the dough does not clear the sides of the bowl, add the reserved flour until the proper consistency is achieved.  The dough should not be stiff.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few times, forming the dough into a round ball with a skin stretching over the outside.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, smooth side up.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

4.  Let the dough stand at room temperature for 45 minutes to 1 hour before proceeding.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Gently deflate the dough, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface.  Flatten the dough into a slight rectangle or oval shape.  Fold the two corners furthest away from you into the center of the dough, as though you were beginning to fold a paper airplane.  Starting with that point, roll the dough up into a cylinder, pressing gently to seal as you roll.  Press the final seam to seal.  Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends under if desired, to make a more attractive loaf.  Cover loosely but thoroughly with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and refrigerate overnight, or for 8 hours.

5.  Remove dough from refrigerator, loosen plastic wrap if needed, and let stand at room temperature for 30 to 45 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 425º F, and place another baking sheet or oven-safe pan in the bottom of the oven.  If you have a baking stone, heat it with the oven.  If not, your baking sheet is fine.

6.  Using a sharp serrated knife or clean razor blade, make three decisive slashes in the top of the loaf at a 45º angle, evenly spaced.  Transfer the bread to the oven (or baking stone, if using).  Immediately throw 4 or 5 ice cubes into the hot pan on the oven floor.  Bake for 10 minutes, adding additional ice cubes as they melt.

7.  After 10 minutes, remove the ice-cube-pan from the oven, and bake the loaf for an additional 15 to 25 minutes, or until deeply golden brown.  Remove the bread to a wire rack to cool before slicing. 

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, your water should be a bit cooler, around 105º F to 115º F.  Instead of mixing the active-dry yeast into the flour, you should dissolve all of it in a little of the warm water, in the mixing bowl.  Let stand for about 5 minutes, or until foamy.  Add the flour and salt, and proceed as directed.

2.  In case it wasn’t made clear, I do not reccommend this method; unless you have a very good reason for doing so.

Week Twenty-Six: Same Dough, Different Method

Today’s method variation involves a long, slow, cold ferment of the dough.  Maybe you think that sounds like we’re doing something ugly to the dough, turning it into dough sauerkraut, or something; but the term “ferment” is one of the 12 basic steps in yeast bread making (explained here).  In layman’s terms, it’s the first rise, or the resting period after you knead  the dough and before you shape it.

Technically speaking, fermentation is the process of carbohydrates converting to alcohol and/or acid, by the action of a microorganism.  In bread dough, the yeast is the initiator of this activity, and acts on the flour and any sugar present, turning them into alcohol and carbon dioxide (and a few important acids too, for good measure).  And since we’re getting technical here, the processes going on in the dough at this point are the same as when you make yogurt, kimchi, beer, wine, cheese, and yes, sauerkraut.  So the idea of “dough sauerkraut” isn’t actually that outlandish (except that the two foods are completely different)!  Interesting side note: the study of fermentation is called zymurgy, and there is a beer homebrewing magazine called Zymurgy.  Neat!

But in breadmaking, other important things occur during fermentation.  For one, the gluten you’ve just formed in kneading starts to relax, while at the same time continuing to form.  How does that happen - relaxing and forming?  Well, gluten is like a really uptight rubber band.  Be rough with it (i.e, knead it), and it gets all tense and persnickity, and toughens up.  But if you leave it alone, it calms down and relaxes.  Remember what’s happening right now, though: the yeast is producing gases.  The network of gluten traps those gases, and slowly gets stretched - like a rubber band.  That’s why you need gluten in your bread; without it, those gases would just escape.

Another important thing that happens during fermentation deals with those aforementioned acids that the yeast gives off, lactic and acetic acids, most importantly.  Those two are important dough conditioners, or things that make your bread taste better and keep longer.  The longer the fermentation, the more time the acids have to act on the dough.  Therefore, many experts have determined that for the best possible bread, a long and slow fermentation is best.  This often means using less yeast (which will take a longer time to rise the dough), but it can also mean lowering the temperature at which the dough is fermented (which slows the yeast activity, preventing an over-risen dough).

My experiment for today was to see what would happen to the texture and flavor of the bread when fermented overnight in the refrigerator.  It’s a trick I use fairly often; for example, when I’ve started a bread, and suddenly need to run an errand, or plans change, or any number of similar changes to the schedule.  And to the best of my knowledge, the bread has not suffered as a result; it always seems to end up okay.  But I’ve never actually done a side-by-side comparison to see if I’m just fooling myself, so now’s the time!

I did deviate from the standard straight-dough method in one other way than only the refrigerated fermentation: I used an autolyse for this bread as well.  Ideally, I guess I shouldn’t have, but somebody’s going to eat this bread, and I’d rather it taste as good as possible.  I know for a fact that an autolyse period makes a better bread; why wouldn’t I use it here?

To critique, the finished loaf looked suspiciously like the previous two loaves: a pretty golden brown crust that crackled and broke into tiny shards when cut, soft airy interior, evenly-spaced holes, blah, blah, blah.  And honestly, it tasted very much like the autolyse bread from yesterday.  I don’t know that there was a whole lot of difference between the two.  It’s still much better than the straight dough bread, I can say that much.  The complex depth of flavors from the autolyse were definitely there, and the texture was nearly identical.

So, to sum up, if you need the extra time, don’t be afraid to stick you bowl of just-kneaded dough in the fridge for any length of time, up to about a day.  As long as you let it come back to room temperature before shaping it, you should have no problems with it affecting taste or texture - and heck, it might even help, if you don’t use an autolyse period.  Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.*

The Overnight Ferment Method
Makes 1 big loaf

19 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached bread flour
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast (see note 1 below)
1 1/2 cups hot water (115º to 130º F)
1 teaspoon kosher salt

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together all but a handful of the flour and all the yeast.  Add the water and mix with the dough hook at low speed until a rough dough forms, about 1 minute.  Turn the mixer off, and without removing the bowl or the hook, cover the bowl loosely with plastic wrap.  Let stand for at least 15 to 20 minutes, or up to 45 minutes.

2.  Remove the plastic wrap, and add the salt.  Continue kneading the dough, at medium-low speed.  Knead for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball that clears the sides of the bowl, and becomes elastic.  If the dough does not clear the sides of the bowl, add the reserved flour until the proper consistency is achieved.  The dough should not be stiff.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few times, forming the dough into a round ball with a skin stretching over the outside.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, smooth side up.  Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight, or for about 8 hours.

4.  Let the dough stand at room temperature for 45 minutes to 1 hour before proceeding.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Gently deflate the dough, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface.  Flatten the dough into a slight rectangle or oval shape.  Fold the two corners furthest away from you into the center of the dough, as though you were beginning to fold a paper airplane.  Starting with that point, roll the dough up into a cylinder, pressing gently to seal as you roll.  Press the final seam to seal.  Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends under if desired, to make a more attractive loaf.  Cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 425º F, and place another baking sheet or oven-safe pan in the bottom of the oven.  If you have a baking stone, heat it with the oven.  If not, your baking sheet is fine.

5.  When fully risen, and using a sharp serrated knife or clean razor blade, make three decisive slashes in the top of the loaf at a 45º angle, evenly spaced.  Transfer the bread to the oven (or baking stone, if using).  Immediately throw 4 or 5 ice cubes into the hot pan on the oven floor.  Bake for 10 minutes, adding additional ice cubes as they melt.

6.  After 10 minutes, remove the ice-cube-pan from the oven, and bake the loaf for an additional 15 to 25 minutes, or until deeply golden brown.  Remove the bread to a wire rack to cool before slicing.

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, your water should be a bit cooler, around 105º F to 115º F.  Instead of mixing the active-dry yeast into the flour, you should dissolve all of it in a little of the warm water, in the mixing bowl.  Let stand for about 5 minutes, or until foamy.  Add the flour and salt, and proceed as directed.

* - ‘Cause knowledge is power!

Week Twenty-Six: Same Dough, Different Method

Yesterday, I introduced this week’s variations with the most basic method of bread making: the straight dough method.  Today, I’m going to discuss the easiest, fastest way to improve the flavor of any bread, or, the autolyse [awe-toh-lees] method.  This is the fancy term for “mix only your flour and water together, and let it sit for twenty minutes before adding salt and yeast, and kneading”.  No, I’m not being glib; it’s really that simple.

Let me explain what exactly “autolyse” means.  Etymologically speaking, it’s the French word for the biological term “autolysis”, which is from the Greek words meaning “self” and “splitting”.  Huh?  What’s that got to do with bread?

Well, autolysis refers to the destruction of a cell by its own enzymes, or “self-splitting”.  In baking, this means that enzymes in flour (amylase and protease, if you really want to know) begin to break down the starch and protein in the flour.  The starch gets converted to sugar, and the protein gets reformed as gluten.

Why would you want to do this?  When you knead the dough, aren’t you just trying to do the same thing - form gluten?  Well, yes, ultimately; but when you knead dough, you also oxidize it (expose it to oxygen).  Over-oxidized (or, over-kneaded) dough results in color and flavor loss in a finished bread, which means it’s pale and tasteless.  By giving the mixed flour and water time to go through autolysis on their own, you achieve the same result, but without any of the unpleasant effects of oxidation.  Additionally, an autolyse period gives the flour time to soak up all the moisture, resulting in more orderly gluten formation (um, long story short).

What this all means for your bread is that your dough will be easier to handle before it’s baked, and the end product will taste better, have better texture, look better, and have better keeping qualities.  What’s not to love?

This technique was developed and refined by Raymond Calvel, author of the seminal Le goût du pain (The Taste of Bread), and bread guru to Julia Child.  Supposedly a chemist by training, he essentially did for European breadmaking what Alice Waters did for American cooking (if I may get a little food-geeky on you; and if you don’t know who Alice Waters is, now’s a good time to learn).

Okay, technicalities out of the way, how do you do it?  You’ll be happy to know that it’s so, so easy!  All you have to do is mix your flour and water together (no yeast, and never any salt!) until the flour is all moistened, cover it, and just step away.  Go for a walk, wash the dishes, weed your garden, tidy up the house, weave a basket, walk a tightrope, whatever you do to pass twenty minutes.  When you come back, add the salt and yeast, and continue kneading.  Everything else can proceed as in the straight dough method.  Yes, it’s just that simple.  Seriously.

I really can’t think of another way to get so much flavor out of your basic ingredients with so little effort.  I mean, we’re adding on 15 or 20 minutes to a 3 or 4 hour process; that’s nothing!  And when I tell you the difference is noticeable, you should trust me.  I compared a slice of this autolyse bread with yesterday’s straight dough bread, and the difference was pretty amazing.  I even made my editor and sous chef take a blind taste-test; and he was able to easily discern which was which, knowing what autolyse is meant to accomplish.

The straight dough bread was good, but tasted a bit flat in comparison.  The autolyse bread simply had a much more complex range of flavors, and a depth that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.  It’s a bit like the difference between dried pasta and fresh pasta - you can’t quite explain why, but you know one just tastes better than the other.  The texture wasn’t vastly different between the two breads - both were nicely soft inside, with evenly-distributed air pockets, and a pleasantly crispy crust outside; maybe the autolyse bread was the tiniest bit softer? - but once you bit into a piece, it was pretty obvious which one was the winner (it was the autolyse bread).

One last thing - I know I said that autolyse involves mixing only the flour and water together, and ideally that’s how you want to do it.  But in this recipe, I’ve instructed you to add the yeast as well, pre-autolyse.  See, salt is not only a protease inhibitor (um, it gets in the way of your autolyse), it’s also a yeast inhibitor (it kill ‘em dead!).  If salt touches your yeast, it’s all over for the poor little guys.  By mixing the yeast into the flour and water, you avoid any accidental yeast extermination that might occur when adding tiny salt and yeast particles at the same time to a big ol’ lump of dough, post-autolyse.  Besides, this way, the yeast can start to activate and produce all those lovely little acetic and lactic acids that also help make your bread better.  Perhaps Chef Calvel would disapprove of my method; but I feel this is the least of all evils, and the easiest way to ensure success for all.  I think maybe he would approve of that!

The Autolyse Method
Makes 1 big loaf

19 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached bread flour
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast (see note 1 below)
1 1/2 cups hot water (115º to 130º F)
1 teaspoon kosher salt

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together all but a handful of the flour and all the yeast.  Add the water and mix with the dough hook at low speed until a rough dough forms, about 1 minute.  Turn the mixer off, and without removing the bowl or the hook, cover the bowl loosely with plastic wrap.  Let stand for at least 15 to 20 minutes, or up to 45 minutes.

2.  Remove the plastic wrap, and add the salt.  Continue kneading the dough, at medium-low speed.  Knead for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball that clears the sides of the bowl, and becomes elastic.  If the dough does not clear the sides of the bowl, add the reserved flour until the proper consistency is achieved.  The dough should not be stiff.

3.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few times, forming the dough into a round ball with a skin stretching over the outside.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, smooth side up.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

4.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Gently deflate the dough, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface.  Flatten the dough into a slight rectangle or oval shape.  Fold the two corners furthest away from you into the center of the dough, as though you were beginning to fold a paper airplane.  Starting with that point, roll the dough up into a cylinder, pressing gently to seal as you roll.  Press the final seam to seal.  Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends under if desired, to make a more attractive loaf.  Cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 425º F, and place another baking sheet or oven-safe pan in the bottom of the oven.  If you have a baking stone, heat it with the oven.  If not, your baking sheet is fine.

5.  When fully risen, and using a sharp serrated knife or clean razor blade, make three decisive slashes in the top of the loaf at a 45º angle, evenly spaced.  Transfer the bread to the oven (or baking stone, if using).  Immediately throw 4 or 5 ice cubes into the hot pan on the oven floor.  Bake for 10 minutes, adding additional ice cubes as they melt.

6.  After 10 minutes, remove the ice-cube-pan from the oven, and bake the loaf for an additional 15 to 25 minutes, or until deeply golden brown.  Remove the bread to a wire rack to cool before slicing.

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, your water should be a bit cooler, around 105º F to 115º F.  Instead of mixing the active-dry yeast into the flour, you should dissolve all of it in a little of the warm water, in the mixing bowl.  Let stand for about 5 minutes, or until foamy.  Add the flour and salt, and proceed as directed.

2.  Autolyse can be used in any bread recipe, no matter the ingredients - even if there’s salt, milk, cocoa, oil, egg, butter, anything in your dough.  There’s a whole lot going on during the autolyse process, and every little bit helps!

Week Twenty-Six: Same Dough, Different Method

Okay, I’ll admit it.  Not like it was such a secret, but I am such a kitchen dork, you guys!  I could list examples to prove my point, but I’m sure it’s a bit obvious already - there has to be a certain level of geekery to attempt a project like this one.  But my point is that I enjoyed last week’s variations on beer bread so much that I’m doing another round of variations on a theme this week.  Awesome!

Last week, I featured variations on a particular recipe, but using the same method (with the exception of the yeasted version) for each.  This week, I’m making six different breads, all from the same dough, but treated differently through various ways of mixing and rising.  And whereas last week’s breads were (mostly) chemically-leavened quickbreads, this week, it’s all about the yeast.

What I’m trying to figure out, this week, is how the exact same ingredients end up when handled differently.  I mean, we’ve all heard that using a sourdough starter makes for a better bread, right?  Well, how much better?  Does a 20 minute autolyse actually make your bread taste more complex?  Sure, I’ve read the books, studied the masters, made a few loaves in my time, and all that jazz; but it turns out I’m a bit of a Doubting Thomas.  Darnit, I need to taste the difference myself!

The ingredient list for this dough is intentionally simple, just flour, water, salt, and yeast.  There’s no sugar to help the yeast, no milk for a bit of flavor, no oil for softness.  No, I want the real flavors to shine through.  It’s not about perfection this week, it’s about tasting subtle shifts in flavor, and watching for differences in texture.  This dough is fairly wet, so if you’ve got a stand mixer, use it.  If not, you can make these breads by hand, but just be careful about how much flour you add while kneading.

The first bread for this week is about as simple as it gets; today, I’m using the straight dough method.  What this means is that you mix all your ingredients together at the same time, immediately knead the dough until the gluten is properly formed, let it rise until doubled, shape it, let it double in size again, and bake it.  Nothing special, other than the use of the aforementioned wet dough.  I’ve found, this year, that the wetter the dough, the better the bread.  My loaves might end up squatter than many, but the texture inside is beautifully airy (if I do say so myself)!  Better that than end up with a dense, dry bread (like I was making at the beginning of this year, if I’m honest).

Just to keep everything on an even keel, I’m going to be shaping these breads all the same way, in a fat oval, with three slashes just before baking.  All of these will be baked with steam; and if you’re not familiar with steam baking methods, Baking 911 has all the usual suspects towards the bottom of that page.  Also, since I have a baking stone, I’ll be using it.  If you don’t have one, you can make one with unglazed tiles or quarry stone, or simply use an upside-down baking sheet preheated with the oven, or the oven floor itself.  This will produce the most crisp crust, but if you can’t be bothered, you can just bake the bread on a baking sheet, which is fine too.

So, to critique the straight dough bread: pretty good.  The dough rose nicely, felt properly soft and elastic, and baked into a pretty loaf with a nicely crisp crust.  The color was a lovely golden brown, and the interior was evenly punctuated with air holes.  The flavor was fairly standard white bread, but nothing too interesting, however.  I wouldn’t turn it down, but I wouldn’t call it fabulous.  Overall grade: A-.

Stay tuned tomorrow, when I explore the mysteries of the autolyse!  Same bread time, same bread channel!

The Straight Dough Method
Makes 1 big loaf

19 ounces (about 4 cups) unbleached bread flour
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast (see note 1 below)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups hot water (115º to 130º F)

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together all but a handful of the flour and the yeast.  Whisk in the salt.  Add the water and mix with the dough hook at low speed until a rough dough forms.  Scrape the bowl if needed, and increase the speed to medium-low and knead for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball that clears the sides of the bowl, and becomes elastic.  If the dough does not clear the sides of the bowl, add the reserved flour until the proper consistency is achieved.  The dough should not be stiff.

2.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few times, forming the dough into a round ball with a skin stretching over the outside.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, smooth side up.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

3.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Gently deflate the dough, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface.  Flatten the dough into a slight rectangle or oval shape.  Fold the two corners furthest away from you into the center of the dough, as though you were beginning to fold a paper airplane.  Starting with that point, roll the dough up into a cylinder, pressing gently to seal as you roll.  Press the final seam to seal.  Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet, seam-side down.  Tuck the ends under if desired, to make a more attractive loaf.  Cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 425º F, and place another baking sheet or oven-safe pan in the bottom of the oven.  If you have a baking stone, heat it with the oven.  If not, your baking sheet is fine.

4.  When fully risen, and using a sharp serrated knife or clean razor blade, make three decisive slashes in the top of the loaf at a 45º angle, evenly spaced.  Transfer the bread to the oven (or baking stone, if using).  Immediately throw 4 or 5 ice cubes into the hot pan on the oven floor.  Bake for 10 minutes, adding additional ice cubes as they melt.

5.  After 10 minutes, remove the ice-cube-pan from the oven, and bake the loaf for an additional 15 to 25 minutes, or until deeply golden brown.  Remove the bread to a wire rack to cool before slicing. 

Notes:
1.  If using active-dry yeast, your water should be a bit cooler, around 105º F to 115º F.  Instead of mixing the active-dry yeast into the flour, you should dissolve all of it in a little of the warm water, in the mixing bowl.  Let stand for about 5 minutes, or until foamy.  Add the flour and salt, and proceed as directed.

Week Twenty-Five: Beer Bread Week!

For today’s variation, I wanted to experiment with the leavening in beer bread.  I know, I know, half the charm of classic beer bread is its speed - delicious bread can be yours in less than 1 hour! - and that almost stopped me from including this variation.  But what can I say; I was curious!  I wanted to see what would happen if you substituted one kind of leavening (yeast) for the original kind (chemical), keeping everything else the same.

Some of you more experienced breadmakers out there, after looking at the original recipe, might be able to see one major problem with that approach.  I, however, was moving too quickly and not thinking things through enough to see it until I was in the thick of it.

Have you figured it out yet?  That’s right, it’s the liquid to flour ratio, or hydration levels.  The original recipe uses 12 ounces of liquid for 13 1/2 ounces (3 cups) of flour.  That’s pretty darn close to 100% hydration; or “soup”, for all you non-bakers out there.  Dough soup doesn’t exactly make for good yeast bread.  Luckily, I caught myself before I added in the whole amount of warmed beer, when there were about 4 ounces left (give or take).  Yes, 4 ounces of warm, flat, American lager.  I absolutely hate wasting food of any sort, but that stuff went down the drain.

Another problem I avoided (but only barely, if I’m honest) was the mixing procedure.  “Just replace the leavener!,” says I.  “Keep everything else the same!,” says I.  But after dutifully stirring all the ingredients together by hand, I began to cover it for its first rise, and realized that there was certainly not enough gluten formed to hold the yeast-gases in.  I’m really not sure what I was thinking; I darn well know better than to attempt a yeast bread with no kneading (ahem - with as short a rise as I was willing to allow at 8 pm).  “Dummy!,” says I, and poured the mess into the stand mixer.

Yes, I said “poured”.  At this point, I’m still using 3 cups of flour, per the original recipe.  Okay, maybe it was “scraped”; but it certainly wasn’t the tidier “transferred”.  I added in another cup or so of flour, and kneaded with the dough hook until I saw those familiar little strands and webs of gluten begin to take shape.  I left the dough very wet on purpose (to the point that hand-kneading would’ve been impossible), to keep as close to the original hydration level as possible.  Foolish, maybe; but it actually ended up being okay.

The dough rose goopily over the edge of the pan, and didn’t have a whole lot of oven spring, but that’s to be expected with such a wet dough, and the use of all-purpose flour.  Because of the high percentage of liquid, the holes in the dough were fairly large, and were pleasantly evenly-distributed.  The crust softened after standing, but it remained crustier than the average store-bought sandwich bread.  The flavor, however, was the big surprise.  It was quite tangy, with a very pleasant sourdough taste, and had quite a depth of flavor.  If you’re a member of my immediate family, it tasted surprisingly and suspiciously like Mamaw’s sourdough bread.  If you’re not a member of my family, Mamaw’s sourdough bread is awesome.

But how?!  This was a standard straight-dough method (i.e: mix everything at one time, rise, shape, rise, bake); there was no autolyse, overnight starter, slow rise, or any of the normal tricks I use to achieve this type of complex flavor.  I’ve made similar straight-dough breads before, and they sure as heck didn’t taste this good - even taking the use of sugar and butter into account.  There was only one possible culprit here: the beer.  To the internets!

I’ll cut to the chase.  After some research, I determined that one thing beer has - that water, milk, soda, or most other liquids don’t have - is malt.  Of course!  Malt is often added in breadmaking to improve flavor, texture, and keeping ability of bread.  And since malt is the basic building block of beer, it makes perfect sense to add malt via the liquid, by adding a can of beer.  Mystery solved!

So to sum up: beer makes bread taste better, especially when you actually put it in the dough (yuk, yuk).  Leavening type doesn’t matter much, it just depends on what you want in the end, crumbly quick bread, or slice-able sandwich-type bread.  Use enough flour.  Knead yeast bread enough, but don’t over-mix quick bread.  Use your head and think things through.  These are the lessons I’ve learned today.  I’d call that a success!  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go have another slice.

Yeasted Beer Bread
Makes one 9 x 5 inch loaf

18 ounces (about 4 cups) + 2 teaspoons all-purpose flour, divided
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast
3 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled slightly
8 ounces light beer, at room temperature, or slightly warmer

1.  Lightly grease a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan, and sprinkle with 2 teaspoons all-purpose flour.  Shake the flour around until the whole interior is coated, then knock out the excess.

2.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together 15 ounces (about 3 1/2 cups) of the flour, the salt, and the sugar.  Whisk in the yeast.  Add the butter and beer, and mix with the dough hook at low speed until combined.  Increase the speed to medium, and knead until cohesive and elastic, about 7 to 9 minutes.  Add the remaning flour as needed to achieve the proper consistency; however, dough should be slack.  Scrape down any dough stuck to the walls of the bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 50 minutes.

3.  When fully risen, fold the dough over itself in a tri-fold, as though you were folding a letter.  This will deflate it.  Transfer the dough to the prepared loaf pan, and cover loosely with a lightly oiled piece of plastic wrap.  Let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 45 minutes.  Preheat oven to 350º F.

3.  Bake at 350º F for 35 to 45 minutes, or until golden brown on top, and an instant thermometer registers  200º F when inserted into the center.  Remove from pan.  Cool thoroughly on a rack before slicing.

Notes:
1.  After the bread is baked, loosen the edges with a knife if needed, and gently knock the edge of the pan on the counter to release the loaf.

2.  Feel free to add more flour than stated if you prefer a firmer dough.