One girl's journey through the bread world, one recipe at a time.
When I look at this loaf, I think of the word “peasant.” Like, a peasant bread. Like something you’d see coming out of the hearth in the background of “A Christmas Carol,” while poor Tiny Tim tries to cut the single pea on his plate in half. (Probably one of the more devastating scenes I’ve ever watched in a Disney flick — that, and when Nemo’s mom dies within the first five minutes of the movie. C’mon, Walt!).
So it’s no surprise that this peasant loaf was coming out of our oven just a few days ago.
No, I’m not saying we’re poor — gosh, no. There are so many people in the world with a fraction of our wealth. Still, we are in the early stages in our marriage, and as many young couples can empathize (and single, 20-something professionals — I’m leaving no one out of this), these are financially trying days. While we’re trying to move up from the college staples of Ramen noodles and frozen pizza and to more sophisticated daily menus, sometimes, it’s just too dang expensive, and you find that jar of peanut butter is the only source of sustenance for days (OK, it’s really not that bad, but you get the idea).
All this to say that, when I decided to make this loaf, simple as it may be, I knew it had to be put to good use. I mean, we can’t just go wasting bread around here! Not that we do, of course… goodness, what kind of bread baker throws out uneaten bread? Not this one, I’ll tell you that… yeah.
Luckily, we happened to need a country loaf (peasant, country, artisan; tomato, to-mah-to) for one of our favorite dinners we were making that night — Espinacas con Garbanzos (OMG if you haven’t made this yet, do it right now. You know if I react with “OMG,” it’s got to be delicious). With a crusty crust and a soft, dense center, the French boule is the perfect conduit for any tapenade, chutney or other chunky topping. Like bruschetta, for instance. Or said recipe, above. This bread worked perfectly as a slab for our dinner of tomato-y garbanzo beans, sauteed spinach and garlic.
And so, thanks to the fresh food cooking on the stove and a fresh “peasant” bread in the oven, we had ourselves a meal and good conversation — and that’s all we really need. (I so want to say here, “God bless us, every one!” But I won’t, to curb the risk of cheesiness, of course.)
Debrief: Pretty straightforward here. Just be careful with the measurements if you plan to make only one, two or three loaves. That is all.
Boule (Artisan Free-Form Loaf)
Courtesy of Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day
Makes four 1-pound loaves. The recipe can easily be doubled or halved (or quartered, as I did)
Ingredients:
3 cups lukewarm water
1 1/2 tbsp active dry yeast
1 1/2 tbsp coarse salt
6 1/2 cups unsifted, unbleached, all-purpose white flour
Directions:
In the bowl of a stand mixer, pour lukewarm water (should be about 100 degrees F) and add yeast and salt to the water. Add all of the flour at once and mix with the dough hook (kneading is unnecessary — just mix until ingredients are incorporated).
Once the dough is moist and consistent, pour dough into a clean, greased large bowl, cover, and let rise until doubled in size, about 2 hours.
After dough has risen, sprinkle the surface of the dough with a dusting of flour and divide dough into four, 1-pound pieces. With lightly-floured hands, gently stretch the surface of each dough piece around the bottom of all four sides, rotating the ball a quarter-turn as you go. Shape until a smooth and cohesive ball and place on a lined baking sheet or baking stone. Allow each dough ball to rest about 40 minutes.
Twenty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Place an empty broiler tray for holding water on any other shelf that doesn’t interfere with the bread.
Dust the tops of each loaf with flour and slash several 1/4-inch deep cuts for a “scallop” look (as I did). You can also make a tic-tac-toe pattern or a giant plus sign across the top of the bread.
After a twenty-minute preheat, you can put the loaves in the oven, even if it isn’t up to full temperature. Quickly and carefully pour 1 cup of hot water in the broiler tray and close the door immediately.
Bake for about 30 minutes until a lightly-brown crust develops. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely on a wire rack before slicing and serving.
Gosh, I know, I know, it’s been a while.
I’m sorry.
I have so much to tell you. I could tell you about one of my dearest friend’s weddings I was in a few weeks ago (oh, I already told you about that?). I could also tell you about going to the county fair and seeing the OMG-adorable piglets and yummy funnel cake (or you could just take a gander for yourself). I could also tell you that my wrists have decided to go numb randomly and feel tingly, and how my very sympathetic, physician-assistant-studying husband comforted me by telling me I might. Have. Carpal. Tunnel.
What.
But I won’t tell you about that.
What I will tell you about are these amazing rolls I made last night. Finally, after a long couple of weeks of running to this, that and the other thing (which, unfortunately, is still not done, but I just couldn’t hold out on you any longer!) I was able to find a few hours in my schedule to make these rolls. I found them on Joy The Baker (naturally) the other day and knew they had to be made — mostly because she mentions wearing an apron and “Mad Men,” and I’ve been pining for/watching both lately.
While making these rolls, however, I discovered that I really didn’t have as much flour left in the apartment as I thought, so after scooping out the very last smidgens of bread flour and all-purpose flour and even whole wheat flour I had around, I officially ran out of flour. I would be shocked that I, one who bakes bread often, let my kitchen go without a speck of flour, but then again, it’s been one of those weeks. All this to say that my dough was slightly stickier than I would have liked, but no less workable in the long run.
These rolls definitely evoke that 1950s housewife where’s-my-lung-blackening-cigarette-and-old-fashioned-on-the-rocks kind of feeling, and suddenly you think you should be donning pearls and curling your hair and putting on bright red lipstick and walking around in heels in the kitchen. Yeah, that won’t happen. But it sure is a nice thought (minus the cigarette, ick).
Debrief: Um, I don’t know, just that these are insanely easy to make? Be careful when pulling apart the dough into 20 equal pieces — if you keep reworking it, your rolls will turn out bumpy like mine. But they’ll still taste just as good. And just make sure you have enough flour in your kitchen — but, like I said, it worked out anyway.
Parker House Rolls
Courtesy of Joy The Baker
Makes 20 rolls
Ingredients:
3 tbsp warm water
3 tbsp sugar, divided
2 1/2 tsp active dry yeast
1 stick unsalted butter
1 cup milk
2 cups bread flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
3/4-1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
Directions:
In a small bowl, stir together 1 tbsp sugar, yeast and warm water until yeast is dissolved. Let stand 5 minutes until foamy.
Melt 3/4 of a stick of butter in a small saucepan. Add milk and heat until lukewarm. Pour mixture into a large bowl and add yeast mixture, remaining sugar, bread flour and salt. Stir with a wooden spoon until just combined.
Add and stir in 3/4 cup all-purpose flour, and dump dough onto counter. Knead and keeping adding flour a tablespoon at a time until dough is smooth and just slightly sticky, about 10 minutes. Form dough into a ball and place in a greased bowl, turning to coat. Cover with a towel and let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.
Divide dough into 20 pieces and roll into balls. Arrange evenly on a baking sheet and cover with a towel until almost doubled, about 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
When rolls are risen, use a floured chopstick or edge of a ruler to make a deep crease down the center of each roll. Let rolls rise, covered, about 15 more minutes.
Melt the remaining 2 tbsp of butter and brush the tops of the rolls with the butter. Place rolls in the oven 20-25 minutes, or until golden brown. Cool rolls in the pan 5 minutes, then remove and serve warm.
I’m a 23-year-old living in 
