When last we left our heroine, she was waiting for her bread to rise. Rawr. After 2 hours, the dough had expanded into this somewhat gooey mess:
I took that, split it into four small balls, and sprinkling generously with flour, you sort of fold the edges in on itself a bunch of times. The dough at this point was a little fragile. I pulled on one of the balls a little too vigorously and broke the dough on the outside, but it seemed fine. These go onto oiled baking sheets, where you let them sit and rise for another 2 hours.
Pre rising:
Then into the oven. Halfway through you get to open the oven, releasing the smell of HEAVEN ON EARTH, so that you can brush them with olive oil and sprinkle them with rosemary and kosher salt. After a scant 20 minutes of baking, you take them out and you, well I, have bread.
I would have taken a picture of the bread when I sliced it, but the first boule disappeared fairly quickly into my gaping maw. (Sexy mental image, yeah?) The bread has a nice pervasive hint of rosemary, and the crust is reasonably crisp with a nice tender inside. I would like a crust with a bit more structure - I'm a big fan of the rustic breads where you can peel out the inside of the bread and you're left with a crust like a melon rind. This bread was superb with a little seasoned olive oil for dipping. I think I'll definitely try the recipe again, tweaked to get a thicker crust and more resilient texture. I don't know much about bread science yet, but that's the point of this venture. Try this, read that, try this again but slightly differently. Expect more bread posts, since I intend to fully document this little journey into gluten gluttony.
I took that, split it into four small balls, and sprinkling generously with flour, you sort of fold the edges in on itself a bunch of times. The dough at this point was a little fragile. I pulled on one of the balls a little too vigorously and broke the dough on the outside, but it seemed fine. These go onto oiled baking sheets, where you let them sit and rise for another 2 hours.
Pre rising:
Then into the oven. Halfway through you get to open the oven, releasing the smell of HEAVEN ON EARTH, so that you can brush them with olive oil and sprinkle them with rosemary and kosher salt. After a scant 20 minutes of baking, you take them out and you, well I, have bread.
I would have taken a picture of the bread when I sliced it, but the first boule disappeared fairly quickly into my gaping maw. (Sexy mental image, yeah?) The bread has a nice pervasive hint of rosemary, and the crust is reasonably crisp with a nice tender inside. I would like a crust with a bit more structure - I'm a big fan of the rustic breads where you can peel out the inside of the bread and you're left with a crust like a melon rind. This bread was superb with a little seasoned olive oil for dipping. I think I'll definitely try the recipe again, tweaked to get a thicker crust and more resilient texture. I don't know much about bread science yet, but that's the point of this venture. Try this, read that, try this again but slightly differently. Expect more bread posts, since I intend to fully document this little journey into gluten gluttony.
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