Archive for October, 2009

Pumpkin Chocolate Bread

Saturday, October 31st, 2009

Week Forty-Four: Multi-Grain Breads Happy Halloween!

pumpkin-chocolate

I love Halloween.  I’ve always enjoyed any excuse to dress up in costume, giving sides of myself usually kept under wraps a chance to emerge a bit, under the protective hand of ”staying in character”.  Maybe it’s a result of growing up in New Orleans, where people don costumes just because it’s Tuesday, but I’m always a little happier when I have a Halloween costume planned.

It’s in this spirit that I bring you today’s bread.  Pumpkin must be one of Fall’s more virtuous foods, with its wealth of nutrients, its endless adaptability in the kitchen, and not least of all its ability to remain delicious after the commerical canning process.  But for today, pumpkin sheds her wholesome and respectable air, and puts on a more scandalous costume.

It’s one that is sweet and indulgent, studded with dark chocolate, and fragrant with heady spices.  Each crumbling slice tenderly falls apart in your hand, and the fantastic flavor will have you diving to catch any piece that may fall before it hits the floor, lest you have to throw any mote away.

This bread was suggested some months back by a friend who insisted I save some for her, should I make it, describing it as her all-time favorite bread.  I’ve been planning it ever since then for this one day, as it seemed the only appropriate choice.  (Do I have to mention the color scheme?)  Oddly, I don’t think I’ve ever had pumpkin chocolate bread before; Autumn baking tends to be either pumpkin or chocolate, not both.

But the result is earthy, rich, spicy, a little mysterious, and just plain fabulous.  The sweet-savory flavor of pumpkin, paired with the bitterness of a good dark chocolate, is both potent and elegant.  But with generous measures of cinnamon and ginger added to the mix, it becomes eye-rolling good, conjuring haunting notes of Thanksgiving pies and Mexican chocolate.  No, this isn’t the pumpkin I know on every other day of the year; but if this is the sort of costume she puts on, I might have to throw more costume parties.

 

Pumpkin Chocolate Bread
Adapted from The Art and Soul of Baking, by Cindy Mushet
Makes one 9 x 5 inch loaf

10 ounces (about 2¼ cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1/3 cup water
1½ cups (packed) brown sugar
9 ounces (1 cup) canned pumpkin purée
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup applesauce
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon bourbon (optional)
5 ounces (about 1 cup) good quality chocolate, chopped

1.  Preheat the oven to 350º F, and position a rack in the center.  Butter a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan, and line lengthwise with a piece of parchment long enough to extend one inch beyond the sides of the pan.

2.  In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, spices, and salt until thoroughly blended.  In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and water together.  Add the sugar, and whisk until blended.  Mix in the pumpkin, oil, applesauce, vanilla, and bourbon.

3.  Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients, and fold together with a nonstick spatula until nearly blended.  Add the chocolate, and gently fold in until incorporated and no large pockets of flour remain.

4.  Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and smooth the top.  Bake at 350º F for 55 to 65 minutes, or until golden brown and feeling firm when pressed gently in the center.  Remove from the pan by pulling on the parchment, loosening the bread from the sides of the pan with a thin knife if necessary.  Discard the parchment, and let cool thoroughly on a wire rack before slicing.

 

Notes:
1.  Chocolate chips are perfectly acceptable, but I prefer the irregular pieces and melting quality of chopping up my own bar.

2.  For the best slices, let the bread cool completely before cutting, giving the melted chocolate a chance to cool, and the structure of the bread to set.

3.  This bread will keep for about 2 days at room temperature, wrapped in plastic, or may be frozen, tightly wrapped.

Seeded Multi-Grain Bread

Friday, October 30th, 2009

Week Forty-Four: Multi-Grain Breads

seeded-multigrain

I’m not really sure what to write about this bread.  See, the original recipe is one of those multi-day, sourdough-starter-already-made recipes that can’t help but produce a good bread.  And since this bread is made entirely from whole-wheat and rye flours - two flours notoriously difficult to use alone in artisan style breads - such elaborate preparations are nearly requisite.

My issue, however, came from the fact that one of the ingredients for the starter was a starter.  You know, let me just pull out my appropriately-hydrated whole-grain starter.  That I have.

I’m sure there are gasps from the panary hardcore amongst you, my Dear Readers; but no, I do not keep starters in my fridge.  Not live ones, anyway.  And, okay, in fairness this recipe is from a book that I don’t personally own; I’m sure the recipe for this second-level starter is included therein.  Me, I work with what I got.

In addition to the jerry-rigged starter (or perhaps because of it), my dough didn’t rise quickly enough to accomodate my schedule, which resulted in less than ideal rising conditions (the half-proofed dough was shoved in the fridge as I ran out the door, to be later revived under a less than watchful eye).

It all seemed to be going well, despite the abuse, until I pulled it from the oven.  With practically no oven-spring, I’m still not sure if the fault was mine, or one inherent to the flours themselves.  All that aside, though, the bread wasn’t dense.  It wasn’t particularly airy either, but no surpise there from a whole-grain bread.

It did, however, have an odd flavor that I’m at a loss to pin down.  It was a decidedly sourdough taste, but either more potent or somehow different than what I’m accustomed to.  It wasn’t unpleasant, but it took me a few bites to wrap my brain around it.

Texture-wise, the crumb was as tender as you could possibly expect, with enough pull to remind you that this dough was cared for.  The crust was a bit thick and chewy, which I think could be remedied by baking this loaf in a covered pot, à la No-Knead Bread.

All in all, this bread was good, but not really great.  Take that with a grain of salt, though; you’ve seen that I hardly followed the original recipe.  If there’s anyone out there with a whole-grain starter, try it and let me know how it works out.  And please include your starter recipe.

 

Seeded Multi-Grain Bread
Adapted from Advanced Bread and Pastry, by Michael Suas, via Apple Pie, Patis, & Pâté
Makes 2 loaves 

For the starter:
2½ ounces (about 1/2 cup) whole wheat flour
1/8 teaspoon instant yeast
3 ounces (1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons) water, at room temperature

For the soaker:
2½ ounces mixed seeds (see note 1 below), plus about 1/3 cup extra for finishing the loaves
3 tablespoons water, at room temperature

For the final dough:
8½ ounces (1 3/4 cups) whole wheat flour
5 ounces (1 generous cup) rye flour
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon instant yeast
9 ounces (1 cup plus 2 tablespoons) water, at room temperature

1.  Mix the starter ingredients together until a shaggy ball of dough is formed. Knead for about 2 minutes, or until smooth.  Place in a medium bowl, and cover with plastic wrap.  Let sit at room temperature for about 12 hours before using in the final dough.

2.  For the the soaker, mix 2½ ounces of mixed seeds (reserving the remainder) with the water in a small bowl.  Cover and let stand at room temperature for at least 2 hours before using in the final dough.

3.  For the final dough, whisk together the flours, salt, and yeast.  Add the water and all of the starter.  Using the dough hook, mix at low speed until a rough dough forms.  Increase the speed to medium-low, and knead for 8 to 10 minutes, or until smooth and elastic, and the gluten network is well-formed.

4.  Add the soaker, and knead until evenly incorporated, 1 to 2 minutes.

5.  Transfer the dough to a large, lightly-oiled bowl.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap, and let rise at room temperature until increased 1½ times in size, which may take anywhere from 2 to 4 hours, depending on the strength of your starter.

6.  Lightly grease a baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly-floured surface, and divide into two equal pieces.  Shape each piece into a round or oval-shaped loaf.

7.  Place the remaining mixed seeds on a flat plate.  Spray or brush the top of each loaf lightly with water, and roll in the seeds to coat.  Transfer to the prepared baking sheet, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and let rise at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, about 1 to 1½ hours.  Thirty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 450º F.

8.  When fully risen, use a sharp serrated knife to gently and decisively slash each loaf 3 or 4 times diagonally, letting only the weight of the knife press into the dough.  Bake at 450º F for 30 to 35 minutes, rotating the loaves halfway through baking if necessary.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool thoroughly before slicing.

 

Notes:
1.  You can use any combination of seeds you like, such as flax, sesame, poppy, or millet, or even any cracked or rolled grains, such as oat or barley; just make sure it all adds up to 2½ ounces.  Due to such variation, the volume measurements will vary wildly, so the best way to properly measure this mixture is to weigh it.

Kitchen Sink Crackers

Thursday, October 29th, 2009

Week Forty-Four: Multi-Grain Breads

kitchen-sink-crackers-2

I love names like this.  Kitchen Sink Crackers.  It implies a friendliness in the recipe, one that says, “Go ahead, throw it in!  I can take it!”  It’s accomodating, a rare adjective in the baking world.  The version made here uses six different flours, but could be made with as few as two (why bother with just one?).  I’ve also added millet in, for that fabulous tiny pop it brings to every bite, and pretty dots of yellow throughout.

I was a little apprehensive that, with all the flours included, the overall taste would be rather muddy.  But what resulted was instead a lovely complexity, the various grains all blending together into a multi-layered and rustic flavor.  Though these are yeasted crackers, they aren’t given a second rise, but are baked immediately after rolling out.  Thus, they aren’t meant to be thick and chewy, but wafer-like and crisp.

My one problem with this recipe was also one of my favorite things about the recipe: the millet.  I adore millet in breads and crackers, but the round things actually prevented me from rolling the dough as thinly as I would ideally have wanted, making the finished crackers more thick and hearty than fragile and light.  This was not a bad state of affairs, but not what I had envisioned.

Another problem was that I used a pasta roller to make quick work of flattening the dough, but the millet caught in the opening, and the dough was just soft enough to tear whenever that happened.  So my crackers ended up with jagged edges and holes, which I thought was nevertheless appropriate for the grainy texture.  If you’re going for a cleaner look, try substituting sesame seeds instead of millet; they’re flatter, and therefore wouldn’t hinder rolling, but would still provide a nice crunch.  Alternatively, you could totally omit seeds, and use a bit of cornmeal in place of some flour, which would give a slightly similar crunchy texture.

The end result was a little more substantial than I originally wanted, but it works beautifully.  These crackers are full of stout flavor and texture (and a bit of nearly every flour I have).  The variations are, of course, endless; these agreeable little guys seem to be able to take anything you might throw at them.

Except maybe the actual kitchen sink.

kitchen-sink-crackers

   

Kitchen Sink Crackers
Adapted from The Professional Pastry Chef, by Bo Friberg
Makes about a million crackers

12 ounces (about 2½ cups) unbleached bread flour
4 ounces (1 scant cup) whole wheat flour
4 ounces (1 scant cup) rye flour (any sort)
2 ounces (a generous 1/2 cup) spelt flour
2 ounces (a scant 1/2 cup) teff flour
2 ounces (about 1/2 cup) rice flour (any sort)
1 tablespoon kosher salt (2½ teaspoons table salt)
2 teaspoons instant yeast
1 cup water
3/4 cup light-flavored beer
3 tablespoons vegetable oil (any sort)
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 cup millet

1.  In a large bowl, whisk together all the flours, the salt, and the yeast.  Add the water, beer, oil, and honey.  Stir together until a rough dough forms.

2.  Turn the dough out onto a work surface.  Knead until smooth, about 2 minutes, dusting with extra flour (of any sort) as needed to prevent sticking.

3.  Add the millet in small increments, and knead to incorporate evenly.  (You may find this easier to do in the bowl, to contain the millet as much as possible.)  When all the millet is added, return the dough to the bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rest at room temperature for 1 hour.

4.  Preheat the oven to 375º F, and position the racks near the middle of the oven.  Line as many baking sheets as you have with parchment paper, or just leave ungreased.

5.  Divide the dough into 4 pieces.  Lightly flour each piece, covering the unused pieces with a kitchen towel or plastic wrap, and roll out as thinly as possible, dusting with flour as needed to prevent sticking.  If you have a pasta roller, this is the time to use it.  If not, a rolling pin is fine.  If the dough resists while rolling, cover and let rest while working on the other pieces.

6.  Cut the rolled-out dough into desired shapes, and transfer to the baking sheets.  Bake at 375º F for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden brown.  Transfer to a rack to cool thoroughly.

 

Notes:
1.  Crackers will keep, in an airtight container at room temperature, for about two weeks.

2.  The flours listed here are suggestions more than mandates; feel free to use whatever mixture of flours you like, as long as the total weight equals 26 ounces (volume measurements will vary by type of flour used; see here for a fairly comprehensive list of equivalents).

3.  Instead of millet, you can use whatever other small seed you prefer, or happen to have on hand (such as sesame or poppy seed).

Boston Brown Bread

Wednesday, October 28th, 2009

Week Forty-Four: Multi-Grain Breads

brown-bread

Having grown up in the South, it’s no wonder I was a stranger to Boston brown bread.  In fact, until I made this recipe, I don’t think I’ve ever knowingly eaten it before.  This is one of those situations where I’m not sure if that condition is a help or a hindrance.  Having no prior knowledge of it, how am I to truly judge?  How am I to know if this is too dark, too fluffy, too grainy?  And yet, never having tasted it, my palate is unclouded by ghosts of Breads Past, and I may sample with a clear mind.

Fortunately, I have faith in my tasting abilities, and I believe I can objectively ascertain which are good breads, and which are not-so-good.  This bread falls into the former category, despite the fact that this version of Boston brown bread is baked.  Horrors, I know.

Traditionally, this bread is steamed, as Americans of the era this bread was created in didn’t have ovens, using fireplaces instead for all their cooking.  This recipe comes from the Hi-Rise Bakery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where the chef apparently prefers his brown bread baked.  Though that might cause a small scandal in some circles, it’s fine by me, as I have no preconceived notions of what this bread should be like.

All I know is that this bread is delicious.  Composed largely of cornmeal, whole-wheat, and rye flours, it speaks to its origins in a time when white flour was a more precious thing.  This combination of grains gives the loaf a very complex sweetness, which is heightened with the use of rich molasses as a sweetener.  It may seem like a lot when measuring out ingredients, but the finished bread is perfectly sweetened, neither too much, nor to little.

Molasses is all well and good, but it can be a bit heavy for my tastes, so I’ve lightened it here by substituting part of it for honey or maple syrup, whatever happens to be in your pantry at the time.  Or use both.  I hesitate to mention pancake syrup (such as Mrs. Butterworth’s), as the lot of them tend to make my skin crawl a bit, and my inclination is to recommend avoidance; but if you’ve got nothing else, at least they have more flavor than plain corn syrup.  There are worse things you could do.

Even though this bread is baked instead of steamed, it’s still made in the standard round tins.  Recipes will generally direct you to use coffee cans, but I haven’t a clue where you find coffee in a can anymore.  (It’s certainly not around my neighborhood.)  Twenty-eight ounce tomato cans, however, are plentiful, and you can always use up a can of tomatoes.  Beans also come in the same size can, but as I discovered to my chagrin, they often have a pop-top lid, which leaves a thin band of metal around the top edge.  (This might not seem significant, but it’s just enough of a lip to keep your bread from sliding out after it’s baked.  Ten points if you can guess how I know this.)  You could certainly also use any size can, larger or smaller, to bake these breads; in that case, be sure to adjust the cooking time.

The resultant bread is rich, hearty, robust, and absolutely ideal to serve alongside all the soups and stews that I’ve started turning out of my Autumn kitchen.  Yes, I was a stranger to Boston brown bread; but now that I know it, I have a feeling it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

 

Boston Brown Bread
Adapted from Artisan Baking, by Maggie Glezer
Makes 2 round loaves

8 ounces (about 1 1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
8 ounces (about 2 cups) rye flour
4 1/2 ounces (about 1 cup) whole wheat flour
4 ounces (about 2/3 cup) cornmeal (see note 1 below)
1 tablespoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup molasses
1/4 cup honey, or maple syrup, or a mixture
2 cups milk
1 cup dried currants

1.  Preheat the oven to 300º F.  Butter the inside of two 28-ounce cans, or any other similar metal container about 5 inches high and 4 inches across.

2.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, cornmeal, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.  Add the molasses, honey or syrup, and milk.  Mix together by hand, adding additional milk by spoonfuls if the batter is crumbly and dry.  Add currants, folding in quickly and gently.

3.  Divide the batter evenly between the prepared cans, or fill 3/4 full.  Bake at 300º F for 1½ hours, rotating the cans halfway through the baking process to brown evenly.  The loaves should be well domed, browned, and crusty when done.  Remove from the cans while still warm, and transfer to a wire rack to cool thoroughly.

 

Notes:
1.  Stone-ground white cornmeal is suggested; I used regular yellow cornmeal seemingly with no adverse reactions.

2.  Do not use an electric mixer to make this bread, as it will end up tough and too dry.

Oat and Spelt Muffins

Tuesday, October 27th, 2009

Week Forty-Four: Multi-Grain Breads

oat-spelt-muffins

I didn’t know what exactly to expect from these muffins.  I was intrigued originally by the relative lack of flour included, all of it whole grain.  Most of the body comes from the use of rolled oats, leaving only one total cup of flour to pick up any slack.  And slack there is a-plenty; the batter is so thin that the word “watery” would not be inappropriate.

You might be tempted to add more flour than is called for to this liquid batter, but you’d be well advised to resist.  The oats do a lovely job soaking up all the moisture, and the muffins would be dry and crumbly with any extra flour added.  Having said that, the oats don’t cook through totally, which means they remain as toothsome bits throughout each bite.  If this sounds good to you, then you’ll be pleased with the rustic texture.  If you prefer your muffins more refined, you may prefer to grind the oats first in a food processor, making for smaller, more easily cooked pieces that will give a softer result.

Generally, these muffins were flat but fairly pleasant things, with the standard golden-brown coloring.  The flavor was decidedly oaty, as might be expected, with nutty backnotes of spelt and whole wheat, mild and inoffensive.  Texturally, they had the aforementioned chew of oats, but were otherwise very tender.

There is one adjective that sticks in my mind to describe the overall taste: “healthy”.  Not great, not bad, somewhere close to fair or middling, but mostly they tasted healthy.  Whether they are or not is perhaps best left to the dietitians; but any recipe I choose to hang on to had darn well better inspire more colorful language than these did.

 

Oat and Spelt Muffins
Adapted from Cooking Light
Makes 12 muffins

1 large egg
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup milk
1/2 cup buttermilk, well-shaken
1 cup regular oats
2 ounces (about 1/2 cup) spelt flour
2 1/2 ounces (about 1/2 cup) whole wheat flour
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt

1.  Preheat the oven to 350° F.  Lightly grease 12 cups of a standard muffin tin.

2.  In a large bowl, whisk the egg until blended.  Add the olive oil, vanilla, milk, and buttermilk, and combine.

3.  In a second bowl, sift or whisk together the flours, sugar, baking soda, and salt.  Add to the wet ingredients, and stir together just until all dry ingredients are moistened.

4.  Divide the batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups.  Bake at 350º F for 20 to 30 minutes, or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.  Remove from the pans as soon as possible, and transfer to a wire rack to cool slightly before serving.

 

Notes:
1.  Instead of spelt, feel free to use any other unusual flour you might have sitting around.  Buckwheat, teff, or sorghum flours would all be excellent choices here.

2.  If possible, try to have all ingredients at room temperature before mixing.

Rye and Millet Dinner Rolls

Monday, October 26th, 2009

Week Forty-Four: Multi-Grain Breads

rye-roll-3

This month, they’re doing some housecleaning over at the Kitchn.  It’s smack in the middle of their four-week Kitchen Cure, which I signed up for, but have sadly been far too busy to participate in (could you tell, what with the lack of posting and all?).  It seems appropriate to give the home a little freshening before settling in for the cold of the fast-approaching Winter.

So in the spirit of cleaning house, this week I’ll be featuring multi-grain breads; that is, breads that help me use up all those random bags of uncommon flours that have accumulated over the year.  I’m not just talking about throwing a handful of whole-wheat flour into your dough, I’m referring to truly multi-grain breads that use at least two different grains, and hopefully more.  If you’ve got a sack of spelt flour languishing in your cupboard, and you just don’t know what to do with the poor thing, this is the week for you.

The first recipe this week is one for rye and millet dinner rolls.  Normally, I shy away from recipes for so-called “dinner rolls”, as they generally produce over-soft, over-sweet, aenemic, and doughy things.  But the moment I saw these darlings in our Dearly Departed Gourmet Magazine, I knew I had to make them.  I mean, look at their little hats!  *squeal!*

rye-roll-1

Lucky for me, they turned out gorgeously.  Not only were they pretty as a picture, but they had a pleasantly chewy crust.  The crackery hats on top also brought a delightful crunch, especially in conjunction with the pop of the millet in the rolls themselves.  Grainy and rustic, they’re exactly what I want to see on my table these chilly Autumn nights.

And don’t worry about shaping the “hats”, like I did.  No matter how thinly you roll them, they firm up enough to hold their shape when you place them on top of the rolls.  Easy and cute?  It doesn’t get any better.

rye-roll-2

 

Rye and Millet Dinner Rolls
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine
Makes 16 rolls

For rolls:
10 ounces (about 2¼ cups) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting as needed
1/3 cup rye flour (light or dark)
1¼ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon instant yeast
1 cup minus 2 tablespoons water, at room temperature
1 teaspoon honey
2 tablespoons millet (optional, but delightful)

For tops:
1 ounce (1/4 cup) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons rye flour (light or dark)
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large egg white

1.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flours, salt, and yeast.  Add the water and honey.  Using the dough hook, mix at low speed until a rough dough forms.  Increase the speed to medium-low, and knead for 5 minutes, or until smooth and elastic.

2.  Transfer the dough to a large, lightly-oiled bowl and turn to coat.  Cover with plastic wrap, and let sit at room temperature until doubled in size, 1 to 1½ hours.

3.  Lightly grease a large baking sheet, or line with parchment paper.  Using a nonstick spatula, fold the dough over itself in thirds, like a letter, deflating it gently.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly-floured surface.  Divide into 16 even pieces, and roll each piece into a round ball.  Transfer each to the prepared baking sheet and cover loosely with lightly-oiled plastic wrap.  Let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.

4.  While rolls rise, make the tops.  Stir together the flours and salt, then stir in water and oil until a dough forms.  Turn out dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead a few times, until smooth.  Divide into 16 even and very small pieces.  Roll out each piece on a lightly floured surface to a thin round (about 2 inches; shape need not be perfectly round), and arrange in 1 layer on a sheet of parchment.

5.  Beat the egg white with a pinch of salt to make an egg wash.  Lightly brush egg wash onto rounds.  Refrigerate any remaining egg wash.  Let stand, uncovered, to dry slightly while rolls rise.  Preheat oven to 425º F, and position a rack in the middle.

6.  When fully risen, lightly brush each roll with egg wash, being careful not to deflate.  Gently lay one of the tops, egg-wash-side up, atop each roll.

7.  Bake rolls at 425º F until golden-brown, about 20 to 25 minutes.  Transfer to a wire rack to cool slightly before serving.

 

Notes:
1.  Rolls may be frozen, tightly wrapped, and reheated in a 350º F oven for 5 to 10 minutes, or until heated through.

Ciabatta

Saturday, October 24th, 2009

Week Forty-Three: Whatever I Feel Like Week

ciabatta1

Ah, ciabatta.  Who doesn’t love that modest bread, with those gaping holes, that dusty crust shedding flour with each bite, that perfect pull and chewy texture, that creamy flavor?  Nobody, that’s who.

Though I have made ciabatta before, that recipe and the one below are different enough that I feel secure in repeating this particular item.  One similarity between the two - indeed, between all good recipes for ciabatta - is the use of a poolish, a.k.a. a very wet starter.  The use of a starter here isn’t just for improved flavor (though it does provide that as well), but it also helps the dough form a stronger gluten network, so crucial for achieving those monster holes in the crumb.

ciabatta-2

I’m at a bit of a loss to explain this recipe further.  It’s not because it’s a mediocre or less-than-great recipe; in fact, it’s an excellent recipe, one that makes enviable bread, with relatively little effort.  I feel like I should gush about it and the loaves it produces, but really, it’s just doing its job.

Good ciabatta is fairly specific in nature (certain crust, certain crumb, certain texture, certain shape), and this recipe absolutely delivers.  But ciabatta is also by nature very rustic, very unaffected, even a bit homely.  To use further fancy prose here would be to give it fussy airs, when it’s really a simple thing.  To me, this recipe requires little more description than this: it makes very good bread.

Now go bake some.

ciabatta-with-cheese

 

Ciabatta
Adapted from The Bread Baker’s Apprentice, by Peter Reinhart
Makes 2 to 3 loaves

For the poolish:
11 1/4 ounces (about 2 1/2 cups) unbleached bread flour
1 1/2 cups water, at room temperature
1/4 teaspoon instant yeast

For the dough:
13 1/2 ounces (about 3 cups) unbleached bread flour, plus extra for dusting
1 3/4 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast
6 to 8 tablespoons water, at warm room temperature

1.  To make the poolish, whisk together the flour, water, and yeast until smooth.  The consistency should resemble pancake batter.  Cover with plastic wrap, and let sit at room temperature for 3 to 4 hours, or until bubbly and foamy.  Refrigerate at least overnight and up to 3 days.

2.  To make the final dough, remove the poolish from the refrigerator and let stand 1 hour at room temperature before proceeding.

3.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flour, salt, and yeast.  Add the poolish and 6 tablespoons of water.  Using the paddle attachment, mix at low speed until a rough dough forms.  If any dry pockets of flour remain, add the remaining water by tablespoons until all flour is moistened.

4.  Switch to the dough hook, and increase the speed to medium.  Knead for 5 to 7 minutes, or until smooth and supple. The dough should clear the sides of the bowl, but stick to the bottom, and be quite sticky and slack.  Add additional flour or water as needed to correct the consistency.

5.  Sprinkle a work surface liberally with flour.  Turn the dough out onto the work surface, and dust the top with flour.  With floured hands, lift the dough from opposite ends, stretching it to about twice its size.  Fold the ends over the top of the dough so they meet in the middle, and the dough is roughly rectangular in shape.  Dust the top again with flour, and cover loosely with lightly oiled plastic wrap.  Let rest for 30 minutes.

6.  Again, lift the opposite ends of the dough, stretching it to about twice the size, fold the ends over the top, and dust with flour.  Cover loosely with oiled plastic wrap, and let rise on the counter for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until puffy but not necessarily doubled in size.

7.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper, and dust liberally with flour.  Uncover the dough, and divide the dough with a bench scraper into 2 or 3 pieces, taking care not to deflate.  Dust each piece well with flour, and transfer to the prepared baking sheet.  Pull up the parchment between each piece, making a couche for the slack dough to rise in, using folded kitchen towels to prop up the outer edges of parchment around the outside pieces of dough.  Cover loosely with lightly oiled plastic wrap, and let rise for 45 to 60 minutes, or until noticeably larger in size.  Preheat the oven to 500º F, and place a rimmed pan in the oven to heat along with it.  Heat a baking stone in the lower part of the oven, if you have one.

8.  Uncover the dough, and slide the parchment flat again, removing the kitchen towels.  Immediately transfer the loaves to the oven (sliding the parchment onto the hot baking stone, if using).  Pour 1 cup of hot water into the preheated pan in the oven, and bake at 500º F for 2 minutes.  Every 30 seconds, quickly open the door to mist the inside of the oven with water.

9.  After 2 minutes, reduce the heat to 450º F, and bake for 15 to 20 minutes more, rotating the bread halfway through to ensure even browning, if necessary.  The bread should register 205º F in the center when fully baked.  Transfer the loaves to a wire rack to cool at least 45 minutes before slicing.

Sourdough Crumpet Fail

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

Week Forty-Three: Whatever I Feel Like Week

crumpet-fail

“Sourdough Crumpets; or, How To Resurrect A Neglected Starter”, read the title, like a treatise for ye olde moderne Housewyfe.  Why, I had a neglected starter, and am fond of crumpets.  Both addressed in one recipe?  Count me in!

The first part of the recipe was a fairly standard sourdough refreshment: whisk together, remove some, feed with flour and water.  Easy.  But the neat thing about this recipe was that the bit of starter that usually gets thrown out gets used instead to make crumpets.  Since I cry a little every time I have to throw food away, this seemed right up my alley.

You can see the result.  Yes, that was intended to be only one single crumpet.

*cry*

To be fair, it may be that my starter was not just neglected, but thoroughly and totally kaput.  The refreshment didn’t seem to work at all.  (You know, for someone who bakes bread six days a week, I do a terrible job at keeping starters alive.)  And I would leave it at that, fault squarely on my shoulders, except that the resultant “crumpets” were extremely salty.  The doughy, somehow uncooked texture (though they were indeed cooked) was one thing, but I just couldn’t get over the salt.  And I’m one who loves salty and doughy things, but I threw these away.

I not only consider this a waste of food, but also a sort of personal affront to my culinary skills (of which I feel I may be justly proud).  See, if I have to throw food away, food that I cooked, it means that I must admit failure, that it was wholly inedible.  If it were simply not up to par, I might chop it up and scramble it with eggs, add it to a stir fry, or mix it into a soup.  But to throw something away, immediately after cooking it… quelle horreur.  It must be absolutely unsalvageable.

Might this have worked with a different starter?  Perhaps, but I’ll never know; this recipe has met the same fate as the monstrosities it produced.  I know how to refresh a starter (see step 2 here), and if I want crumpets, I already have a fine recipe.  If I find myself desperate, they sell them in stores, too.  They might not be quite as good as homemade, but anything’s better than these crude beasts.

 

Sourdough Crumpets
Recipe/method may be found here.

I’m sorry, but I just don’t have the heart to post it after such a scathing review.  This recipe may work quite well for you; it seemed to for a few people.  Me, I don’t think I have the knack for this one.

Orange and Mint Bread

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

Week Forty-Three: Whatever I Feel Like Week

orange-mint-1

Today’s recipe produces a delicious, if fairly standard, rich dough (flavorings aside).  It’s something like a slightly leaner brioche, and all the usual suspects are there: milk, butter, egg.  There is one main difference here, though, and it lies in the unusual kneading method.

This dough is kneaded with an unfamiliar progression of lifting, slapping, stretching, and folding that turns a gloopy, shaggy mess into a silken and elastic thing of beauty.  It’s low-tech, needing only hands and a work table, simple once you’ve been shown how to do it, and produces excellent results.  It’s everything good bread-making should be.

And I would love to show you the results of such a method.  But… um… I can’t.

I didn’t use it.

No, I don’t know why, either.  It makes absolutely no sense, I know.  I mean, the method itself was half of what appealed to me in the first place (the other half being the combination of orange and mint in such a rich bread, yum).  Was it laziness?  Was it willful stubbornness?  Was it me thinking that I didn’t have to fool with deciphering the necessarily awkward wording of the method when I had a perfectly good stand mixer right there and could just make the darn bread dough and sit down to dinner and Episode One of the new season of Venture Brothers and have a glass of wine already?  I’ll let you decide which is the truth.

Of course, on reading closer, I discovered there was a video of the method on Gourmet’s website.  (Yes, this was after I finished baking the bread.)  It’s a very informative video, and I urge you to watch it (before the whole site is gone, so sad!) if you’ve any interest in trying the proper method.  What I saw in the video was a finished dough with a much better look and texture than the one I pulled from my stand mixer; in retrospect, I wish I’d taken the time to figure it out instead of automatically reverting to mixers tried and true.

orange-mint-3

But the bread that I did end up with certainly wasn’t bad.  On the contrary, it was fluffy and light and just rich enough.  It had the properly buttery and eggy smell that such a bread ought, and the tender crust turned a stunning shade of mahogany.

My one complaint is that the finished loaves didn’t really taste of orange and mint.  As one might assume.  From the title.  It certainly smelled like orange and mint, while both mixing and baking, but somehow all the flavor evaporated, or was too subtle for me to notice.  I should’ve called it “Orange and Mint Scented Bread”, and left it at that.  I did only use the zest from half an orange; I would certainly use the whole orange next time, and increase the amount of orange liqueur as well.  As for the mint, I guess just double that as well; why not?

Otherwise, this was a very respectable recipe, airy and tender as a rich dough should be.  Just undersweet enough, it didn’t taste dry as some of these breads can.  It’s fantastic toasted, and as the recipe headnote suggests, would make incredibly special bread pudding or french toast.  I can’t wait to try it after I make it properly.

orange-mint-2

  

Orange and Mint Bread
Adapted from Richard Bertinet, via Gourmet Magazine
Makes 2 loaves

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons milk
1 bunch mint, leaves only (about 1 cup, loosely 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 eggwash

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 the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flour, yeast, sugar, salt, and zest.  Add milk, eggs, and liqueur.  Using the dough hook, mix at low speed until a wet, sticky dough forms. Increase speed to medium, and knead until smooth, 4 to 5 minutes.

3.  Scrape dough out onto a lightly floured surface.  Form into a ball by folding each edge, in turn, into center of dough and pressing down well with your thumb, rotating ball as you go.  Turn the ball over and transfer to a lightly floured bowl.  Cover with a kitchen towel or plastic wrap.  Let sit at warm room temperature until doubled in size, 45 to 60 minutes.

4.  Remove towel or 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, 45 to 60 minutes.

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 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 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, brush top of each loaf again with the egg wash.  Holding a pair of scissors at a 45-degree angle, make a series of decorative snips along the top in a line lengthwise down the center of each loaf.   Transfer to the oven and immediately reduce temperature to 400º F.

8.  Bake until loaves are 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.

Sesame and Poppy Seed Citrus Biscuit Crackers

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

Week Forty-Three: Whatever I Feel Like Week

orange-sesame-3

I wasn’t sure what to expect with this recipe.  The title described them as crackers, the headnote referred to them as Scottish biscuits (more akin to an undersweet cookie), and the recipe itself looked like one for a proper Southern (American) biscuit.  But the flavors intrigued me, citrus and sesame, and no matter what sort of thing I ended up with, I would surely be happy, being a fan of all three possibilites.

The golden things I pulled from my oven less than an hour later were not exactly cracker, biscuit, or (ahem) biscuit, but had characteristics of all three.  If I’m honest, they were most like tiny and flaky American biscuits in both method and appearance.  But they had a cracker’s crunch, and the half-sweet half-savory nature of a British biscuit.  Had I rolled the dough more thinly, the crunch would’ve been more pronounced; either way would produce just as delectable an item.

orange-sesame-1

As excellent as the light texture was, the real glory of these treats was the fantastic balance of flavoring.  A good part of the liquid in the dough are orange and lemon juices, which are amplified by the incorporation of the zest of both fruits.  The original recipe called only for sesame seeds, but I couldn’t help adding poppy seeds, as I’m such a sucker for the way their seductive and earthy flavor complements the nutty taste of sesame.  The overall effect was extremely delicious, brightly flavored and complex without being rich.  Flaky, crunchy, miniature, and pretty as a picture, this is definitely one for the permanent file.

These little biscuits, or crackers, or what-have-yous make a fetching array of sunshiny little bites, ideal for dunking in a hot cup of coffee or tea, or simply as a special snack whenever.  Rolled more thinly and baked to a less-fragile state, I can see them wrapped in a clear cellphane bag, tied with a pretty ribbon, as a most charming gift.  Not quite sweet, not quite savory, not quite biscuit or cracker, they’re the best of all worlds in one tiny package.

orange-sesame-2

 

Sesame and Poppy Seed Citrus Biscuit Crackers
Adapted from Bon Appétit Magazine
Makes 30 to 40 1½-inch biscuits

1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter
6 3/4 ounces (1½ cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon (packed) finely grated orange peel
1/2 teaspoon (packed) finely grated lemon peel
1 tablespoon sesame seeds
2 teaspoons poppy seeds
1 large egg, beaten
1 tablespoon orange juice
1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup cold buttermilk (or cream, half-and-half, or milk), as needed

1.  Preheat oven to 350º F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

2.  Cut butter into as small pieces as possible, and pile loosely on a plate or in a bowl.  Put in freezer while preparing remaining ingredients.

3.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder.  Add the orange and lemon peel, and whisk to blend.  Add the partly-frozen butter, and quickly toss and pinch with fingertips to blend in, or cut in with a pastry blender.  The mixture should look like coarse meal; pea-sized lumps are okay.  Mix in the sesame seeds and poppy seeds.

4.  Add the egg, orange juice, and lemon juice.  Using a nonstick spatula, gently and quickly toss until moist clumps form, adding buttermilk (or other dairy) by tablespoonfuls if dough is dry.  Turn the dough out onto a floured work surface, and knead gently a few times, just until the dough comes together.

5.  Using additional flour as needed to prevent sticking, roll the dough out to 1/4 inch thickness.  Using a 1½ inch round cutter, cut out as many rounds as possible.  Transfer to the prepared baking sheets.  Carefully gather dough scraps together, pressing cut sides together to reform into a roughly flat shape.  Reroll, cutting out additional rounds as before.  Arrange on prepared sheets.  Bake until firm to touch and cooked through but pale, about 15 to 23 minutes, depending on thickness.  Let cool briefly on baking sheet before serving warm or at room temperature.

 

Notes:
1.  I rolled my dough to about 1/3 inch thickness, as I was a little scared of toughening them.  The biscuits took about 21 to 22 minutes to cook, and the ones around the outside of the baking sheet were just barely golden.  They were all crunchy and fully cooked, and were very flaky.  If you want a more crackerly item, roll them thinner and bake until just done.