Beard on Bread (3 page)

If the dough hook is operated according to the manufacturer’s instructions, it can be used to prepare any of the yeast breads, as well as some of the baking-powder breads, in this book.

The sizes of the
bread pans given with the recipes are recommendations and are not to be followed slavishly if good sense tells you otherwise. Since the process of breadmaking is filled with variables, as I have said repeatedly, you could well end up with too much or too little dough for the pans I
have suggested. Therefore it is perhaps best to choose a pan after you have shaped a loaf, calculating how high the dough will be when it has doubled in bulk and allowing for a little extra rising during baking. Generally speaking, if you fill a loaf pan two-thirds full you will have a nicely arched loaf; if it is half full the loaf will be somewhat flatter in appearance.

Also, it is likely that many of you will not have access to the specialty shops that carry every shape and size bread pan, and you may well have to be content with the standard meat loaf pans found in most supermarkets. These, made of aluminum or of glass, are approximately 9¾ × 5¾ × 2¾ or 8½ × 4½ × 2½ You may find a couple of sizes in foil pans, too. Naturally you will have to adjust for these limitations, making one loaf where two might be called for, or two instead of one. With a little experimenting you will quickly be able to work out any pan problems.

You will note that practically every recipe for yeast bread calls for a buttered bowl in which the dough will be left to rise. This needs only a light buttering with a tablespoon or so—just enough to coat the dough with a thin film of fat when it is turned in the bowl, which is done to prevent it from drying out and developing a crust as it rises. I have specified using butter throughout the book, because that is my preference in most recipes. However, you can substitute margarine, oil, or any type of fat, even bacon fat. Beef drippings, goose fat, or chicken fat are also used for certain breads.

Pans can be buttered as lavishly or as sparingly as you like, as long as the inside surface is thoroughly coated. The average bread pan will take about 1 to 1½ tablespoons of butter. Again, you can use margarine, oil, any fat of your choice. Some people think that more fat makes a better loaf. That remains to be proved.

Cookie sheets are sometimes buttered (use approximately two tablespoons of fat); in other instances, a recipe will indicate that the sheet is merely sprinkled with cornmeal, some of which adheres to the loaf when baked. Teflon pans are not buttered.

Several recipes in this book prescribe the use of tiles in the oven for baking bread, particularly when a definite crustiness is desired. The tiles I use are unglazed, brick-colored “quarry tiles” (check your telephone book for tile companies). I find that six tiles, each 5½ inches square, will line an oven rack neatly. The purpose of the tile is to produce a steady, evenly diffused heat, which is different from that radiated by the ordinary gas or electric oven. On the rack below, I generally install a pan of boiling water to create steam during the baking—it is the same technique used in baking French bread—which contributes to the crustiness of the bread. Most loaves baked in this way—rye, pumpernickel, “French-style,” ordinary white—are done in loaf pans or on a baking sheet in the usual way,
but free-form loaves can be baked directly on the hot tiles sprinkled with cornmeal. Furthermore, there’s no reason why you can’t use tiles all the time, even when you are baking in a pan. When a loaf is just about done, remove it and tap it on the bottom to check (it will be done when it sounds hollow). Then place it directly on the preheated tiles for a final few minutes of baking, which will give a more interesting flavor and crust to the bread.

When you take bread from the oven, remove it from the pan, set it on a rack, and let it cool slowly, preferably in a draft-free place. When it is thoroughly cool place it in a plastic bag or plastic wrap, and refrigerate or store at room temperature. It will last from 2 to 7 days, depending on the character of the bread. If it is extremely moist watch carefully in case it should start to mold, although it very seldom does. If some mold has formed it can be cut away and the bread used without hesitation. Naturally, bread will keep better under refrigeration.

Bread—every type of bread—freezes very successfully, and will keep several months if well wrapped. Before a loaf is frozen it should be thoroughly
cooled, then wrapped tightly in plastic and placed in a plastic bag or wrapped in foil and sealed with binding tape. After it has been labeled and dated, it is ready for the freezer.

To thaw, leave at room temperature or wrap in aluminum foil and heat through—20 to 40 minutes—in a 350° oven. Bread can also be reconstituted in a microwave oven if it is not overheated. (Since the microwave heats food from the inside out, there is a risk of toughening the bread while the outer appearance remains the same.)

Bread knives are almost as important as a good oven or good baking pans. The wrong knife can tear bread, especially if the bread is fresh or very soft. Fortunately, in the last few years we have had on the market a great variety of good knives with serrated edges, such as the one shown in the drawing. The long-bladed slicing knife intended for meats is also an exceedingly good bread knife, as it will cut through difficult crusts as well as slice thinly. Then there is a kitchen knife with a special type of serrated blade designed just for bread. One of the few attractive features of an electric carving knife is the fact that it cuts huge pumpernickel or rye loaves into paper-thin slices that you cannot get by hand; it is also very good for very crisp crusts. Very sharp slicing knives and French knives will slice bread efficiently too, but they do not have the easy sawing action serrated edges provide. When you are slicing crusty breads (this goes for French bread and sandwich bread), it is much better to slice from the side of the loaf than from the top. It is also easier to guide your knife when slicing from the side.

It goes without saying that your knives should always be very sharp. A serrated knife can be sharpened on a steel—but only the flat side.

Good bread and good butter go together. They are one of the perfect marriages in gastronomy, and they never fail to cheer me. I enjoy soft sweet butter spread on paper-thin slices of fresh bread to go with my tea, or on slices of beautiful sweet bread or hot brioche bread. For a special treat I relish the taste of bread and butter with a slice of raw onion, or a hearty, crusty slice of Italian or French bread with butter and a bit of cheese. Also, I find thin brown bread—rye, pumpernickel, or any of the dark breads—and butter wonderfully agreeable with oysters and other such seafood.

Then there are bread and butter sandwiches. The bread can be white, whole wheat, rye, or any kind you like, but it must be sliced very, very thin and spread very thickly with sweet butter. The sandwiches, which should be cool, not warm and runny, can be cut into fingers, diamonds, or triangles. I like them in rather hearty fingers to pack and carry on picnics. They are superb with seafood and delicious with cold chicken, cold turkey, or any cold meat—a much happier choice than rolls. They are also nice to serve with salad, when it is a separate course.

Then, of course, there is the moment when that warm bread comes from the oven and the aroma envelops you; you just have to sit down with a big slab of fresh bread and butter and a glass of wine.

It seems to me that one seldom finds toast that is really toasted. Usually it is a flabby piece of warmed bread with a slight color to it. My thoughts go back a long way to the days when I first lived in England and one would still use a toasting fork in front of the fire to toast bread, crumpets, and muffins for tea. Never, never, never has toast smelled or tasted as good, save when it has been done over a toast rack on a stove or over coals. Our electric toasters are extremely efficient, but people do not use them correctly. Bread is not toasted when it takes on color; it must have a change of texture as well. So don’t be afraid of darker toast, and put it in a rack afterward so that it crisps instead of sogs. Nothing is as revolting as the plate of toast one usually receives in a restaurant or a hotel; this comes buttered and wrapped in a napkin, and while it may have been crisp when it came from the toaster, it has, in the meantime, steamed to a most unpleasant texture. On the other hand, English toast is often kept too long in a rack, so it becomes cold, although crisp. I am not sure which is the greater crime, particularly when a perfect piece of toast made from good bread is one of the most delicious of foods—and one that any fool can make.

And whatever happened to that delectable dish,
milk toast? I used to have it for lunch when I was a child, and it was a comfort when I didn’t feel too well. Lovely crisp, buttered toast with hot milk poured over it—a delicious meal indeed. And if you wanted to glamorize it you added cream instead of milk, and more little dabs of butter. Sometimes you even added salt and pepper to make it tastier. Try it with toasted
Buttermilk White Bread
or
Mrs. Elizabeth Ovenstad’s Bread
, using plenty of butter and hot milk or hot cream. Nothing could be simpler or more satisfying.