Down Time

Days like today, when the x-country trails are like wet cotton candy and the wind is whipping fiercely down the valley, and you’ve had just about enough of Facebook and yoga sounds like torture, there’s really only one thing left to do.

It’s very Little House on the Prairie, I know, but it’s oddly satisfying to bake a loaf of bread. Plus, when every other loaf at the local store is suspect at best and green at worst, you have to learn to depend on yourself a bit. After all, what if wild dogs raid the town?

I recently discovered The Fresh Loaf, a great website devoted to artisan bread baking, suitable for the unseasoned as well as the stale. I’ve sort of been stuck in a rut, bread-wise, having found one recipe that delivers awesome bread every damn time (which, if you’ve ever tried to make bread, is very consoling). Since I’ve got all this wonderful time on my hands, I decided to do things right, and really learn about this process. Lesson One seemed a logical place to begin. 

Meanwhile, as my practice dough rises, I’ll share that tried-and-true recipe here. I started with a basic recipe that my friend Ed found on the NY Times website, and added a few twists:

No-Knead Caramelized Onion & Rosemary Bread

• 3 cups flour
• 1/4 tsp yeast
• 1 1/4 tsp salt (sea salt works well)
• 1 5/8 cups water
• 1 onion
• 3 sprigs fresh rosemary

Combine the flour, yeast and salt in a medium-ish bowl. Slice the onion into nice little half-moons and toss into a cast-iron skillet with some butter. Caramelizing takes a while, so let that sit there for about half an hour, on low heat, stirring it around occasionally. If you’re impatient (like me), you can toss some sugar in there to speed up the caramelizing process.

Once the onion is nice and brown and sweet, toss it into a food processor, along with the rosemary (de-stemmed, naturally), and give it a couple pulses, just to mix everything up. Throw that mess in with the flour mixture and stir it up.

Add the water and mix with a wooden spoon. It’s going to look really gross and messy and shaggy, but that’s good. Cover the bowl and leave the dough for 18-24 hours (you can do as little as 12, but the bread doesn’t get as big. Ed, the size queen, taught me this one).

When the dough has sat long enough, uncover it – doesn’t it smell awesome? – and turn it out onto a floured dish towel (not terry cloth). Push it around a couple times, then form it into a ball and cover it with the ends of the towel. It needs to rise for another couple hours.

30 minutes before the dough is done rising, pre-heat a cast-iron pot (dutch oven) at 500˚. When the dough and oven are ready, sprinkle a little corn meal into the pot, carefully dump the dough inside, pop the lid back on, turn the oven down to 400˚ and set the timer for 25 minutes. After 25 minutes, remove the lid and spray water or oil on the loaf (which should be getting pretty mouth-watering at this point), leave the lid off and bake the loaf for another 10-15 minutes, or until golden brown.

It almost makes me wish for terrible conditions every day.