Round Twenty — Olive Oil Flatbread

Disclaimer: These photos are lacking in the zeal of my past posts’ photos. Why, you ask? Because, unabashedly, my mother took her lovely camera (that I borrow for my photo-taking, for I am too lowly and poor to afford such an expensive item) on vacation with her, to Saint Maarten (or Saint Martin, if you’re on the French side as opposed to the Dutch… in case you wanted to know). The nerve. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the experience of reading about this bread, and maybe the tasteless photos will assist in improving your use of the imagination. Always look on the bright side of life!

I was going to bore you with another “Sifted Words” post on an article I recently read in The New York Times’ “The Minimalist” by Mark Bittman, but when I really dove into his article/recipe on Olive Oil Matzo and realized it takes only THIRTY minutes from start to finish, I decided to instead make the darn bread instead of wasting my time writing about it, which would probably take longer. And if I keep talking about why I made this bread in the first place, I may waste more of your time than you would actually making this bread. So here we go.



It’s quite ironic, actually, that I discovered and decided to bake this particular bread. Bittman mentions in his article that the origin of matzo (or, “unleavened”) bread is from way back in the day when the Jews were forced to flee from Egypt after Passover. In their haste they had no time to let their bread rise: thus, matzo bread. He digresses, however, that their bread was not so good. This recipe is worlds away from the original unleavened bread — salty and crispy, with the slightest olive oily taste. It’s also known as “carta musica,” or sheet music, for its incredible thinness.

But the reason it is so ironic that I happened upon this recipe is because, in a few short days, the husband and I are embarking on our own journey across the land. Of course, there’s no fleeing involved for us, and we’re not traveling across continents (really just from Illinois to Iowa), but still, it’s a metaphor. At least in the sense that, amid packing and preparing to move, I’ve not much time to bake bread, let alone eat it. So a quick and tasty recipe like this is perfect for times when bread is necessary, but time is short. Very short.

The process is as simple as the list of ingredients, which I’m sure you already have in the house (don’t you just love it when that happens?). The only difference I encountered with my experience versus Bittman’s was the length of time the bread needed to bake in the oven. While he suggests a mere three minutes, mine took about 6-8 minutes for both sides. As sensitive as this bread is to bake, I’m sure it’s different for every oven, so baby the bread as much as possible by watching it constantly until the edges are just about to burn. Then that’s it. You’re done. Now, time to flee.

A side note: It may be some time before I am able to post another yummy recipe for all of you to enjoy, and for this I am eternally sorry. You can blame Iowa for purchasing our souls and beckoning us to move to its greener pastures on such short notice. And, once you are done blaming Iowa, I’m sure enough time will have gone by that you can check back here again and voila! A new post will appear before you.

Debrief: This flatbread is deliciously crispy and multidimensional in taste all on its own, but a little hummus and capers don’t hurt, adding a little oomph to your unleavened snack.

Olive Oil Flatbread
Courtesy of The Minimalist (of The New York Times)

Time: 30 minutes

Ingredients:
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 cup olive oil
1/2 cup water
sea salt for sprinkling (optional)

Directions:
Preheat oven to 500 degrees F. Combine flour and salt in food processor. Combine olive oil and water in small bowl, whisking them together into a “vinaigrette”-like substance. While running the food processor, add olive oil and water mixture to the flour mixture slowly. Run the food processor until all ingredients combine into a firm dough ball. Remove dough from food processor and knead slightly into a ball. Cut ball in half, then in smaller pieces, until you have 12 small pieces of dough. Roll each piece into a ball.
Flatten each piece on a well-floured surface into a 3-4 inch patty. Roll out with rolling pin into a 6-8 inch circle. Make sure it is very, very thin (you should be able to see your fingers on the other side when looking through the dough with light behind it). Place thin circles on ungreased cookie sheets and sprinkle with sea salt if desired. Bake circles for 2 minutes on one side and one minute on the other (for me, this was give or take 3-4 minutes on each side; just keep a very close watch on the dough until it is thisclose to burning, then remove from the oven). Remove from oven and let cool completely.

Extra punches: As I’ve mentioned twice before, and will do so again — WATCH THE BREAD. Seriously. Sit on the floor (pillow is optional), look through the glass and watch the bread bubble and brown, because there are crucial seconds between that necessary browning and irreversible burning.

Round Nineteen — Braided Pesto Bread

Sometimes, when my husband and I go for really long walks (especially on days like today when it’s 63 degrees and sunny outside, and we need to take advantage of it because, oddly enough, it will be SNOWING tomorrow… c’mon, really?), we like to point out houses or parts of houses that we want ours to look like when we have a home of our own. I’ll point out how I want a three-season room like that one over there, and he’ll mention how he likes the sage color of the siding on the one right here… you get the idea. It’s a fun little game we play, and though the actual house we’ll (hopefully) own in the future will probably look nothing like anything we’ve discovered over the past year, I do know the inside of it will house me, the people that I love… and this bread.




Let me tell you, this bread is to. die. for. It’s a subtle combination of heavy ingredients swirled in faint lines along a pillowy expanse of warm, airy fluff. It’s very pretty, too, and extremely simple to make. I found it while visiting another bread blog I quite enjoy reading. We didn’t have any leftover pesto sitting around in the fridge like the blogger did, but this recipe makes up for the trouble it took to grab a bottle of pesto and a chunk of parmesan from the grocery store. Back-breaking work, I tell you.

It does get a little dicey when you come across the words, “pour the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes.” At first, I stood there with my batter-y dough, wondering, “Now how is this liquid mass going to congeal into a kneadable shape once I POUR it onto my counter? This is silly.” But I took the plunge, and yes, it is very, very messy at first. But, as you can see from the pictures, with a little fearlessness and a lot of (constant) loving/maneuvering, the “pouring” becomes “kneading” indeed.

This recipe is not for the uber-clean, obsessive compulsive types. Or it is (because I am), but only after you think about how delicious a loaf will be when infused with crushed basil, olive oil, pine nuts and creamy grated parmesan cheese. Some suggest it goes well with tomato soup, but I found it just as tasty with, well, anything that was on my dinner plate that night. And I’m sure it will taste just as good when I make for my family, at my dinner table, in my house. Sigh… someday.

Debrief: The braiding technique takes some practice to perfect, but the nice thing about this loaf is a little imperfection adds only character and takes nothing away.

Pesto Bread
Courtesy of The Knead For Bread

Makes two loaves

Dough:
2 cups warm water
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup skim milk powder
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon instant yeast
5 -5 1/2 cups bread flour

Filling:
2/3 cup pesto
1 cup grated Parmesan

Directions:
In a large bowl combine the water, olive oil, sugar, skim milk powder, salt and instant yeast. Mix till well blended. Add in a cup of flour and beat with a wooden spoon till smooth. Add in another cup of flour and do the same.
Now, sprinkle a half cup of flour onto a flat surface and pour out the dough on top. Begin to knead and slowly add in more flour till the dough no longer sticks to the table. Knead for about 8 – 10 minutes. Add a little olive oil into a large bowl ( about a tablespoon ). Place dough into the bowl and turn over a few times to lightly coat all sides. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to rest for an hour or till double in bulk.
Pour out the dough onto a very lightly floured surface. Cut in half. Using your fingers flatten out one of the pieces. Roll out to a 9 x 14 rectangle. Spread half the pesto and 1/4 of a cup Parmesan on top. Bring in the side by a half inch and then roll the dough like a jelly roll. Pinch the seam closed. Take a sharp knife and cut down the center length wise. Open the jelly roll exposing the inside of the roll.Take the two cut pieces and braid them together with the cut side always facing up.
Place the bread into a greased 4 1/2 X 8 inch loaf pan. Now, repeat this whole process with the second piece of dough. Then cover both loaves with plastic wrap and allow to rest for an hour or till double in bulk.
Sprinkle the tops with the remaining Parmesan cheese and place into a preheated 375 degree oven for 30 – 35 minutes. Check the bread about 10 minutes before they are finished to see if you need to cover with tin foil if they are getting to brown. Remove from oven and allow to cool on a wire rack.

Extra punches: Make sure the yeast you have is at room temperature before using it (if you store it in the refrigerator). I make this mistake ALL the time and I think it’s why my dough takes almost twice as long to rise.