Showing posts with label no-knead bread. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no-knead bread. Show all posts

3.15.2013

Dark Winter Rye Boule, It Isn't Over Yet


This week has felt like a week of Mondays, strung together.  I interviewed a worker on Misty Brook Farm on Sunday.  (Who was charming.)  And the co-owner of The Wine Bottega on Tuesday.  (Also incredibly charming.)  Did a ton of writing.  (Please note: I am now out of charming adjectives.)  Worked all week, like a regular human.  And cursed at the wind (the wind!) today because it was so cold. 

What I really want right now is for someone to do my dirty dishes, and pour me a glass of wine. 

But that someone will have to be me tonight.  So I hope you’ll forgive me if I'm curt.  In fact, this pretty much sums things up: winter rye boule.  Because it’s (still) winter.  But also because it’s the variety of rye I bought from Misty Brook Farm.  Which they grow themselves and mill at their farmhouse, just down the road from their farm shop in Barre, MA.

Some winter rye, a little molasses, hint of cocoa, and a bit of caraway seeds was all it took to transform everyday bread into a dense and lovely loaf to chase out the end of winter.  While many dark ryes rely on caramel coloring to get their hue, this version uses the cocoa and molasses to impart a milk chocolate tint that deepens as the bread bakes.

The recipe borrows from Jim Lahey’s no-knead method of Sullivan Street Bakery in New York City.  So you can mix it up the ingredients in a bowl on your counter.  And then clean the dishes.  Or do the laundry.  Or—better yet—open a bottle of red.

Dark Winter Rye Boule

Ingredients:

2¼ cups bread flour, plus extra for dusting
¾ cup rye flour
½ tsp active dry yeast
1½ tsp kosher salt
1½ cups cold tap water
1 tbsp blackstrap molasses
1 tbsp plus 2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
cornmeal, for the bottom of the bread
2½ tsp whole caraway seeds, divided

Instructions:

In a large bowl, combine the flours, yeast, and salt.  (Start this process 15 to 22 hours before you plan to eat the bread.)  Fill a measuring cup (or small bowl) with the water and vigorously whisk the molasses and cocoa into the water until it turns dark brown.  Add the liquid to the flour mixture and combine the ingredients using a rubber spatula until a sticky dough forms (it will be wetter than standard bread dough), add more water, if needed.

Cover with plastic wrap and let rise 12 to 18 hours in a warm, undisturbed spot.  During this time, the dough will double in size and become puffy.

To start the second rising of the dough, scatter a handful of cornmeal in the middle of a clean kitchen towel.  Add 2 teaspoons of caraway seeds to the dough and, with floured hands, take it out of the bowl and gently stretch the dough by tucking the sides of the bread together to meet at the bottom (if it is too sticky to handle, add a little bread flour); continue this process until the seeds are fully incorporated and the top is smooth.  Shape into a round ball.

Place the dough on the cornmeal, sprinkle the top with the remaining ½ teaspoon of caraway, and cover with the sides of the kitchen towel. Let the dough rest for 1 to 2 hours (until it rises slightly).  30 minutes before you plan to bake the bread, set the oven at 475 degrees and place a 4 or 5 quart Dutch oven or roasting pan with a tight-fitting lid on the middle rack of your oven.  (Be sure your pan can withstand the high heat and avoid pans with plastic parts.)  Preheating the pan helps the dough expand rapidly to produce a chewy interior and a crispy crust.

After 30 minutes, take the pan from the oven and remove the lid.  Gently place the dough into the pan, cover it with the hot lid, and bake for 30 minutes.  Uncover the bread and bake for another 15 to 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped.  (If you are unsure, the internal temperature of the bread should be 190 degrees.) Let cool fully on a wire rack before slicing (1 to 2 hours).

Notes:
-I baked this bread in a BreadPot, which I got for Christmas.  I also found some ceramic pots at T.J. Maxx which have worked well in the past.

-You can find Misty Brook at the Somerville Winter Farmers' Market on Saturdays.

4.01.2012

Can I Make You Love this No-Knead Antipasto Pizza (With Anchovies)?


Dear people that do not like anchovies,

I get it. They smell funny.  They’re untrustingly tiny.  They have gray bodies with hairy little bones.  Sometimes they show up in slick, silvery white coats.  You’d think this costume change would ease things, but it doesn’t, does it? No, it leaves you more suspicious than ever.  Swimming in distrust. 

Anchovies do have a reputation for being shifty.  For sneaking into things.  They’re in your Caesar dressing.  They’re in that Bloody Mary you had a brunch yesterday. And you know Aunt Betty’s famous onion dip you love? Yup. She uses Worcestershire sauce.  So they’re in there too. You feel used now, don’t you?  At least a little bit?

And still, I probably can’t change your mind.  I can’t make you love anchovies.  And this makes me feel a bit like Bonnie Raitt begging to her disengaged lover.  Singing her one last, sad plea. “I can’t make you love me,” she laments.  I feel precisely the same.  I’m powerless here.

Now, in retrospect this probably isn’t the woman to spark your interest in anchovies. (Nothing personal, Bonnie.)  Her reputation isn’t all that great.  She has already confessed she can’t make [you] love her.  So she sure as heck can’t make you love anchovies.  And I get that.  But it’s too late. 

I’ll have to rely on this pizza instead.  It’s the best persuasive device I’ve got.  It keeps all of your taste buds fairly occupied. It has tangy red onions; olive oil and thyme-roasted cauliflower; salty cured olives; and Italian parsley and garlic that imparts just the right amount of bite.  Just enough to distract your senses. It’s like garlic bread crossed with a pizza and an antipasto platter.

Not to mention that the pizza crust is very laid back to make.  It’s a take on Jim Lahey’s no-knead pizza crust.  I’ve been making his no-knead bread for a few years.  And he has recently come out with My Pizza, which features pies like the ones he serves up at his restaurant, Co..  A version of his dough recipe can be found here.  


But I just took his bread recipe, one lazy day, and let it sit for a little longer on the counter top. That’s it.  A ridiculously simple crust with some stuff on it. That’s all I got. All of my pizza toppings are on the table. Because I can’t make you love anchovies, if you don’t.

So consider my shout out to this pensive nineties ballad, and said pizza description thereafter, a formal appeal for you to reconsider your previous relationship with anchovies.  Because this really is a wonderful pizza. Just try it.  Just give me until then to give up this fight.  And I will give up this fight.

Emily 

P.s. or just leave them off.

No-Knead Antipasto Pizza (With Anchovies)

Ingredients:

Pizza dough 
Adapted from My Bread By Jim Lahey

3 cups bread flour
½ tsp active dry yeast
1½ tsp salt
~1½ cups cold water

Pizza topping

1 red onion, very thinly sliced
~¼ cup white vinegar
Kosher salt
~2 tbsp butter
~3 tbsp Italian parsley, very finely minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
~1 cup cauliflower florets, thinly sliced
Olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
~½ tbsp fresh thyme, minced
~5 cured black olives, sliced
~6 white anchovies
~¼ cup parmesan cheese

Instructions:

Combine the flour, yeast, salt, and water together in a large bowl and stir until it forms a sticky, but cohesive mass.  Cover and let the dough sit on the countertop for a whole day.  After 24 hours, punch the dough down with floured hands and divide the dough in half.  Use the other half for another pizza, or prepare a small bread loaf.  See a technique for doing so here.

Let the pizza dough rise for 1 hour, covered. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Meanwhile, in a small bowl toss the red onion in vinegar with a little salt; set aside. Combine the butter, parsley, and minced garlic by kneading it a bit with your hands; place it in another small bowl and set aside. On a baking sheet, toss the cauliflower with some olive oil, salt, pepper, and thyme and roast until the cauliflower is golden brown, about 20-30 minutes. 

When the dough is ready, generously oil another sheet pan. Stretch and shape the pizza dough into a form of your choosing.  Place the dough in the pan with the oil, stretching it until it's fairly even in thickness.  Drizzle the top of the dough with a little olive oil, spreading it towards the edges (a few teaspoons or so), and then spread on the parsley butter.  Add the red onions, shaking off any excess vinegar so they aren’t too wet.  Cook the pizza at 425 degrees for about 15-20 minutes. Then, add the cauliflower, black olives, anchovies, and dusting of parmesan.  Continue to cook for 15-25 minutes more, or until both the top and bottom of the crust is golden brown.

Makes 1 small flatbread (serves about 2)

Notes:
-You’ll want to start this dough approximately 26 hours before you plan to eat pizza.

-Now, of course you could simply use this dough as a delivery system for any number of your favorite toppings.  I just like fighting for the little guy.  And anchovies don't get no respect.

-I didn’t want to divide the dough amounts in half to make 1 pizza because I wasn’t sure if it would change the fermenting of dough.  Plus, I wanted bread. So you'll have extra.