The Staff of Life

In 1995, I stopped buying bread. No, I was NOT ahead of my time with these odd low carbohydrate diets. Rather, I stopped when I didn't recognize what was on the labels anymore.

Anyone who was around at that time and cared about food will remember what a sad time it was in NY for bread. There were very few good bakeries, frequently they were out of the way, and if you lucked into some good bread at a restaurant (and it didn't happen that often), they sure weren't telling you about their stash.

Today, things have changed. You can buy excellent bread at many new bakeries, at farmers' markets, and even supermarkets. Labels no longer have eighteen syllable words on them , and the bread doesn't include things that can also be used as rocket paint (okay, that a stretch, but not a big one).

But back in 1995, I took a deep breath and said "time to learn about yeast," and I began making my own bread.

History shows that people have been making their own bread for thousands of years. With the smugness of a graduate degree, I thought something along the lines of "Hey, farmers' wives have been making bread, how hard can it be?"

Farmers' wives , past and present, are still laughing over the next six months, as one loaf after the other, failed. I forgot salt in this one. This one didn't rise. The next one was useful as a doorstop, and nothing else. Then there was the one that caught fire (don't ask). But the old saying "we learn from our mistakes" is truer in baking than anything else. And there are people who can HELP. Of course, you have to get past the fact that "THEY KNOW THIS STUFF AND YOU DONT" For example, I called a bakers' hot line after one disaster to speak to their bread expert. I still remember that conversation because the man I spoke to had the very unusual name of Farley.

When I told Farley the problem, his first question to me was "do you take very hot showers?"
"Hmm. T his guy is flirting with me, long distance" I thought, but without a picture, this wasnt' going any further. With righteous indignation I answered back "I DONT THINK THAT S ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS."

Farley laughed "No, no, you dope. I think you're killing your yeast. You're supposed to use warm water. Warm for the yeast NOT for you." Indeed, he had a point, something that baking book writers, yeast makers, and everyone else in the industry doesn't seem to get: telling someone "warm water," is like telling someone "You know what I want." Uh, no. Then, they compound it by saying "oh, about 75-80 degrees." Well, there aren't that many people who have thermometers in their kitchen cabinet. After having been through this a LOT, here's my suggestion: ignore the "warm water" part and use cold. Most homes are overheated anyway, and the yeast will be warm enough. And even if your house is not warm, the longer bread rises, within reason, the better it will taste.

Now, speaking of yeast...you know those little packages that you can get at the supermarket? They do work, but you have to remember something: they are alive. And those expiration dates? They mean it. So unless you're ready to get into this in a big way, get the packages, refrigerate them, and use them before the expiration date.

Now, we go to another mystery of bread baking that I want to debunk: nomenclature. After my discussion with Farley, and I started using cold water, my bread was still not rising very high. Another call to the baking hotline. This time I got Robin, a very frazzled, but helpful woman.

"You're using the wrong bread pan" she said. "There's more than one? " "Yes, there are bread pans and then there are bread pans. You need a bread pan."

Gee, that was helpful. A bit more probing revealed that there are SWEET bread pans, which are 9x5, and yeast bread pans which are 8x4. I was using the sweet ones, and there just wasn't enough dough to get a good rise. Sounds inconsequential? Mutliply 9x5x2, which is the height of most bread pans, and you get 90. Do the same thing with 8x4x2 and you get 64. That's the volume of the pan. Put a loaf of 64 cubic inches in a pan, 90 inches in volume, and you'll get a teeny loaf.

Of course, you can avoid this completely, by making round loaves. They look much homier and you get to play with the dough, which is always fun.

And my final attack on bread myth. Everyone starts you on white bread as a "basic loaf." I think that's a mistake. Unless you have a serious mixer, you're going to do this by hand (and everyone should knead their first loaves by hand). Kneading, for all the talk of how relaxing it is, how you can work out your frustrations, and everything else, is a pain in the neck. The longest 8 minutes of my life have been the four minutes I spent kneading white bread by hand.

Now, whole wheat bread, is a different story. See, the whole point of kneading bread is to get long strands of glutin to form, so that the bread can rise well. Whole wheat flour has bran in it. If you looked at bran under a microscope, it looks like broken glass. And it works that way. It cuts gluten. Knead whole wheat bread for eight minutes, and you'll be unhappy. Knead it for five, and you'll grin like the Cheshire cat when you see how good your bread turns out.

And here's a basic recipe. It makes two loaves, because this is something you really should share with friends. If you think people will love you if you give them home made soup, give them home made bread, and they will ADORE you. They will ask you to marry them. If they are of the wrong gender, they will send you pictures of their pretty or handsome siblings.

Well, maybe not. But they will hold you in great awe, and you'll get questions like "How did you do this?" and "Gee, you're smart" Again, all you need to do is smile, but make sure you thank those live little yeasties that gave you your fame.

Whole Wheat Bread.

4 cups of unbleached, white flour
2 cups of whole wheat flour (eventually, you'll change the proportions, but let's start slow)
1 tablespoon of dry yeast (one package)
2 cups of cold water
1 tablespoon of salt
2 tablespoons of soft butter, or olive oil.

First, let's make the dough. Pour the water into a big bowl, and then add the yeast. Stir it around. You don't have to "proof" the yeast these days. Just move on, by stirring in two cups of the white flour, all of the whole wheat flour, and everything else. You'll get a very shaggy, wet mess, and you will begin to despair. Don't. You're right on target. Dump all of this shag onto a flat surface that you've covered with a cup of the remaining white flour. Push it away from you with the palms of your hands, turn it, and do it again. And again, and again. It helps to have some really rhythmical music playing when you do this. Eventually, that cup of flour will get worked into the dough completely. Now, do it again. If it all doesn't go in , don't worry. (Incidentally, if you're trying to make a sandwich loaf, push in more flour than, say, if you're making bread for dinner, which you SHOULD do if you're having someone over. Homemade bread will trump your incredible coq au vin, your bolognese sauce, or anything else you make). When you're done kneading, dump the stuff back into the mixing bowl (another myth: You don't need to oil the bowl), cover it, put it in a warm place (which is anywhere in a NY apartment), and leave it alone for at least an hour and a half. You want it to double. When it does, take your fist and punch it down, to deflate it. Now, put it out on a lightly floured surface, and form your loaves. I make round ones, so I just roll them in some flour until I get the shape I want. If you use 8x4 pans, spray them with cooking spray first, and just divide the dough and push it in. If you make the round ones, put them on a baking sheet covered with a piece of parchment paper, and cover them. Cover the pan loaves too, and leave them alone for 45 minutes. Turn on your oven to 350 and let it preheat for 45 minutes.

You'll be amazed at how your loaves have risen, and now you're going to bake them, for thirty minutes. If you want, you can sign the loaves by cutting some interesting design in the top. During the baking time, you will exclaim at least once "I can't believe how good that smells." After 45 minutes, take out the bread, and if it's in the pans, dump it out. Put the bread on a rack to cool. Don't give into temptation and cut into it right away. Patience is a virtue.

Don't refrigerate this bread. Put the cut side down on a plate, or put it in a paper bag. But I guarantee you, it won't last long enough to stale .

Now if you made the minestrone, you have a truly virtuous, healthy meal that will impress anyone. And since the minestrone is so easy to make, you have no excuse not to. What are you waiting for? Go and impress someone today.