08.29.11


hurricane bread


we had a lot of cheese at our disposal by the time we battened down the hatches for the storm on friday night. cheese is not the sort of thing one should stockpile for an emergency, what with its tendency to throw fits in the absence of refrigeration; i admit i was cultivating a scenario in which the power went out and our eating large quantities of cheese was the responsible thing to do. judge if you must.


by saturday afternoon our relationship with crackers had become strained, but we could hardly plan to bake in the morning; while it was entirely possible that our oven would be fine and safe to use on sunday, a risen dough that goes unbaked is a dough i can't face. enter the easy little bread recipe from 101 cookbooks: about 15 minutes of prep (including five to ten in which you're just waiting for your yeast to bloom), a 30-minute rise, and 35-40 minutes in the oven. the most exotic ingredient is "runny honey" (we used a rather firm sunflower honey and were just fine). our poor storm-stuffy apartment smelled as if jehovah himself were in the kitchen baking bread. within two hours we had the ultimate ploughman's lunch on our table (is there a jar of branston pickle among your disaster supplies? fix that, as soon as you can) and were watching youtube clips from the freddie mercury tribute concert at wembley, as one does. take this recipe for a spin; you won't be sorry.

6 comments:

Celia said...

baking requires a certain level of attention that i am simply not capable of. or rather, i am too lazy for. but this, i can do, and will do. 

kidchamp said...

same here, which is why i fixate on stuff like this and the no-knead bread recipe everyone loves. sloppy baking is the baking for me. 

anonymous said...

Jehovah smells stuffy? Miraculous? *Yeasty?*

Or is this some sort of highly sophisticated transubstantiation/tomb-as-bakery joke?

kidchamp said...

"the princess is in another castle. the loaf is risen, just as He said!"

my presbyterian church used to serve communion with grape juice and cubed sourdough. i have strange associations with bread. 

Amid Privilege said...

Branston pickle. A ploughman's lunch, high above the city.

anonymous said...

God is my sourdough starter?

Also, (if obviously): He is risen.