Showing all posts tagged "2020"
We are so small 🏔️💫but that doesn't mean we cannot accomplish big things
Posted on January 19th, 2020
Made more bread!
🍞
Ze Frenchie... As I deemed this loaf, was so delicious, I ate the ENTIRE thing.
Made from a fantastic recipe from butter and air blog!
High Altitude Crusty French Bread
You? Bake a delicious loaf of crusty, chewy homemade french bread? At 9,000 – 10,000 feet? YES. You can. You totally can! Don’t shake your head at me. All you need to make this High Altitude Crusty French Bread – this delightful loaf of yum – is five ingredients, a few hours, and a little faith.
Bread is one of the simplest, most basic foods, right? We, and our ancestors before us, have made and eaten it, in some form or another, for centuries. But in our current century, bread has suddenly gotten kind of complicated. Or rather, we’ve made it complicated. Artisan techniques, hand-milled flours, wild harvested yeast … it’s a bona fide gourmet thing now.
Today’s world of bread contains many deep, lengthy rabbit holes peppered with words like barm and poolish and couche, and for the unseasoned baker, it’s intimidating, if not totally overwhelming. And for us mountain folk, there’s also altitude to consider.
But please, don’t be skerred. I’ve done the work for you! It’s actually quite simple.
This high-altitude recipe is actually not dramatically different from its sea level counterpart. The main differences are two: 1) we use bread flour exclusively for its higher protein content, which helps create a stronger structure to support the quicker rise we tend to get at altitude, and 2) there’s a little less yeast to help control said crazy rise. (Sea-level friends, feel free to try using all-purpose flour instead and an extra half-teaspoon of yeast – a standard packet of commercial yeast is about 2.5 teaspoons, so you can just use the whole thing).
The dough comes together very easily. Simply mix yeast and a dab of sugar in warm water and let it get nice and foamy, add it to your flour and salt, and stir until it begins to come together in a ball. Then spend a little more time kneading it to develop nice strong strands of gluten, which trap the gases produced by the yeast and created the little airy pockets found in artisan bread.
Kneading is particularly important at altitude because you need those strands of gluten to be strong in order to stand up to the enthusiastic amount of gas yeast produces when unencumbered by atmospheric pressure. Those popular no-knead bread recipes you see everywhere? Yeah, they’ll technically work at altitude, but generally will result in a loaf with a dense, heavy crumb and a brittle, rather than chewy crust. Take the time to knead, folks.
I enjoy kneading by hand, which entails folding the dough over itself toward you, then pushing it away with the heel of your hand, turning a quarter-turn and repeating (want a visual?). It takes a while – 10-12 minutes, typically, until the dough is smooth and elastic – but once you get the hang of it and get a rhythm going, the motion becomes rather soothing and meditative (especially if you complement it with a mantra: I need to knead!). Plus, I think it’s good to get a feeling for the dough under your hands – after a few times you’ll instinctively know when it feels done.
If you’re pressed for time and want to get other things done, a mixer with a bread hook will do a perfectly fine job, too. Either way, plop your pretty little dough ball in an oiled bowl, let it rise for an hour or two, and you’ll end up with a beautiful big poofy dough ball:
After this initial rise, you’ll want to prep your dough for its second rise (proofing). Here, carefully remove the dough from the bowl to a floured surface, gently stretch and fold it, envelope-style (see photo below), flip over, and pat into a circle.
At this point, you can return it to the bowl (seam side down) to rise again in preparation for baking, or, if you’re not ready to bake the bread yet, refrigerate it overnight (or even up to a couple of days). Chilling the dough slows down the rise but allows flavor to continue developing, so it’s actually a really good thing to do if you have the time to plan ahead. Just remember to take the dough out of the fridge a couple of hours before you bake it.
When you’re ready to bake, gently remove the dough from its bowl and carefully pat it into shape. I like a round boule shape but you can make an oblong or football-shaped loaf instead, if you choose. Score it with a very sharp knife or razor blade, which will allow the bread to expand easily in the oven and result in an aesthetically pleasing final product. Be sure not to use a dull blade, which can drag the dough down, deflating it. You can make a single long swoop, about a quarter-inch deep, across the length of the dough, or make a pretty pattern (leaves, wheat stalk, Bowie-style lightning bolt?). You do you.
So, our baking vessel is the coolest part about this recipe, I think. Instead of baking on a sheet or baking stone, we’re using a dutch oven with a lid (this is the one I use). Why a dutch oven, you ask? Simply put, it creates the perfect baking environment by trapping the steam created by the liquid in the dough. Which we like, because steam is a fast track to creating a perfect, golden brown, crispy-chewy crust.
If you don’t own a dutch oven, don’t be discouraged – the process works the same in any heavy-bottomed pot with a tight-fitting lid. As long as it’s tall enough to accommodate the rising bread and is oven-safe, you’re golden (literally). If you don’t want to deal with a container at all, that’s ok too. You can bake your bread on a baking stone, or a parchment-lined baking sheet. If you go this route, you’ll have to create steam a different way. Just before baking, place a roasting pan filled with an inch of hot water on the bottom rack of your oven (don’t use cold water, which can lower your oven temp). You can also spray your oven walls with water.
I mean. Just look at that. Now, is this a super fancy loaf that’s been proofed eleven times over seventeen days using artisanal flour from heirloom wheat harvested under a full moon? No. Be glad it’s not that complicated.
This is back-to-basic bread: clean-tasting, quick, and easy, yet still impressive-looking, and most importantly, delicious. It’s got a perfectly crispy-chewy crust and a substantial yet airy texture inside. Perfect for dipping in soup (try this one or this one), making the ultimate grilled cheese, or just eating on its own. Pass the butter.
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PinDescription
Perfect french bread is possible at high altitude! This rustic loaf comes together quickly and easily, sporting a crackly, chewy crust with a light, airy interior.
Scale
Ingredients
2 tsp dry active yeast
1 tsp sugar
1 1/4 cups warm (not hot) water
2.5 cups bread flour
2 tsp kosher salt
Instructions
In a small bowl, combine water, yeast, and sugar.
In a separate medium bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer, combine flour and salt and stir to mix. Add liquid and stir until the dough begins to come together in a ball. If it seems too dry, add a little more water, 1 tablespoon at a time. Mix until all the flour is incorporated and the dough is craggy and sticky, then tip the dough out onto a floured surface for kneading (or leave in stand mixer to knead with bread hook).
Knead for 10-15 minutes, until dough is smooth, and elastic, and slightly tacky to the touch. Form into a ball and place in a medium bowl that’s been lightly oiled. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and allow dough to rise at room temperature 1-2 hours, until doubled in size.
Remove the dough to a floured surface and give it a pull-and-stretch: Stretch about a quarter of the dough ball away from you, then fold it back on top of itself, ending in the middle. Turn the dough a quarter-turn and repeat three more times, so all sides have been folded in. Flip the dough upside down, pat into a ball, and place on a piece of parchment paper.
(At this point, if you do not plan to bake the bread the same day, you can place it in a bowl, cover it tightly, and refrigerate it overnight, or up to 18 hours. Remove the bread and allow it to come to room temperature, about one hour, before baking).
Cover dough loosely with plastic wrap or a tea towel and allow to rise about 30-45 minutes, until it has reached approximately 1.5 times its size.
While the dough is proofing, place dutch oven or other large lidded, oven-proof pot on the middle rack of the oven and preheat to 450 degrees (alternatively, if you are baking in the open oven without a container, place a roasting pan on the bottom rack and add one inch of hot water just before baking the bread).
When the dough is ready to bake, score it. Using a very sharp knife or razor blade, quickly and gently make a quarter-inch deep slash in the dough, from one end of the loaf to the other (or other design of your choice). Be sure not to press too hard and deflate the dough.
Using heat-proof gloves or oven mitts, carefully remove the dutch oven from the oven and remove the lid. Pick up the edges of the parchment paper and gently lift the dough into the dutch oven, parchment and all (if not using a dutch oven, place on a baking sheet or stone). Replace lid and put the pot back in the oven.
Bake for 25 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 400 degrees and bake another 30 minutes. Check after a total of 40 minutes or so; if the loaf has not browned much, remove the lid and continue baking uncovered.
The bread is done when the crust is hard and has a hollow sound when rapped with a knuckle. You can also use an instant-read thermometer to check the internal temp – if it’s between 190 and 205 degrees, it’s done.
Cool the loaf on a baking rack for at least 20 minutes, or until it is fully cooled. Slice at room temperature. Store leftover bread tightly wrapped in plastic wrap.
Notes
i
… don’t be tempted to cut into the loaf while it’s still warm. Cooling continues to both develop flavor and allow some of the moisture in the warm bread to evaporate. If you cut into the loaf too early, it will flatten and become soggy. If you want to serve warm bread, slice it when cool and warm the slices, wrapped in foil, in a moderate oven for about 10 minutes.
i
… it’s important to note here that flour, water, rise times, and baking temps (and times) can all vary a bit depending on the temperature in your kitchen, your particular oven, the weather, and whether the moon’s in Scorpio that week (not really, but you get what I mean). Point is, it takes time to get a feel for how everything works together, so be patient with yourself and use your instinct if something seems too wet, dry, under/overbaked, etc.
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