Susan: No-Knead Bread

All the shiny little trinkets of temptation
Something new instead of something old
All you gotta do is scratch beneath the surface
And its fool's gold
Fool's gold
Fool's gold
-- The Indigo Girls

I'm not proud of what I did, but there's no point in trying to hide the truth. Late last year, along with zillions of others, I fell head over heels for that New York Times No-Knead bread. After having pulled just one measly loaf out of my new dutch oven (that was purchased specifically to make the bread), I let my faithful companion of five long years, pain au levain, fall by the wayside with nary a backward glance. For weeks I walked around with my head in the clouds and a foolish grin on my face, tossing daisies in the air and yammering on incessantly about my scrumptious new love.

Okay, maybe I wasn't quite that bad, but my sourdough starter did nearly die from neglect during my dalliance. I tweaked the no-knead bread recipe and baked loaf after loaf, taking detailed notes and thinking seriously about adding it to the list of breads we plan to offer from the wholesale bread bakery we're building here on the farm. I even wrote about it on my blog.

As a longtime bread baker I should have known better, but I had it bad. Within a couple of months the drunken infatuation wore off, and I started to wonder what the hell I was doing. Head down and full of embarrassment, I went crawling back to my on-the-verge-of-death sourdough starter and baked up three absolutely gorgeous loaves of my good old pain au levain. The fling was over, and all was forgiven.

I wouldn't say that the no-knead bread turned out to be fool's gold; it was more like discovering it was14 karat gold plate when I had assumed it was solid. We're still friends.

So what was it about this bread that so fully captured my attentions? It wasn't the no-knead part, as I rather enjoy kneading bread. No, it was the same thing that gets people into trouble every day - it was different. Something new instead of something old.

My pain au levain has a thick crust and a hearty, dense interior. This bread had a light crumb full of various-sized airholes and, as Beth put it, "a near-shatteringly crisp crust." I had never baked anything like it. I had also been wanting to try making some sort of "slack dough" bread, such as ciabatta, for quite a while, so the batter-like nature of this dough had me intrigued from the start.

Rather large flaws can be easily overlooked when one is enamored, so it was not hard to ignore the fact that this new bread lacked the lovely, deep flavor of my pain au levain — for a while.

In the meantime, the three of us had decided that A Year In Bread would not be complete without including what had inarguably become a bread baking phenomenon in our recipe lineup. Everybody was baking this bread — which made me start wondering what each of us could do with it that hadn't already been done. Kevin quickly hit upon English muffins, and Beth mentioned something about herbs, though she ended up going in an entirely different direction.

I had already made several changes to Jim Lahey's original recipe, including ditching the dutch oven, but none of them were anywhere near earth shattering — make two loaves at once, increase the rising time, add a lot more salt and enough flour so the loaves would hold their shape without the dutch oven.

Inspiration can come from almost anywhere, including a cluttered kitchen drawer. While frantically rooting around for a rubber spatula recently, three long forgotten recipe cards floated to the top of the mess. Now Kevin was absolutely right when he said in his no-knead bread post that I tend to make the same bread recipes over and over, but I have to admit that my feathers got a little ruffled when he also declared himself to be the only artiste among us. Oh please. In my opinion, anybody who bakes bread from scratch has an artistic streak running through them, especially if they come up with their own recipes. And on those forgotten recipe cards was proof that I had done just that.

The main reason I make the same few breads over and over is because I'm doing what corporate types refer to as "research and development" for our bread bakery. Once I've come up with what I believe is a perfect bread, I need to be sure I can bake up consistent results despite the dozens of variables that affect even the most basic bread recipes.

But back in 2002, before I had even dreamed of opening a bread bakery (actually I had sworn years ago that I would never, ever, ever go into the bread baking business) I used to bake bread for barter on a weekly basis. One of the best parts about this arrangement was that it gave me a reason to constantly try new recipes and come up with fresh ideas. Two of those resurfaced recipe cards listed all of the different breads I had bartered, and on the other was the recipe for what I called Italiano bread.

I love homemade Italian sausage, and one day I decided to see what would happen if I added all of the ingredients in Italian sausage to a loaf of pain au levain. Yum. It took me about three seconds of staring at the rediscovered recipe to realize I had just found the perfect no-knead bread post idea. Then my mind jumped to the grilled cheese sandwich I had once made for Joe using slices from a large round loaf of my plain no-knead bread. He said it was the best grilled cheese sandwich he'd ever had. I started wondering what an Italiano grilled cheese sandwich made with fresh mozzarella would taste like. The creative juices (and the drool) were flowing now.

But my excitement turned to disappointment as soon as I mixed up the dough. It was orange. And not in an appetizing way. There was nothing to do at this point but go ahead and bake it off, while frantically trying to come up with other ideas. Fortunately the finished loaves ended up a completely different color - and were also very tasty.

Overall, I was happy with how this bread came out. My biggest complaint is something I had come across before — giant airholes sometimes hidden below the crust. I mean airholes so big that, well, I think this photo gets the point across. The problem is that you can't tell these giant holes are there until you cut into the loaf. The other loaf came out fine. I did put three slashes in the top of the second loaf, and that may or may not have helped control the airholes, though that isn't why I did it. What the slashes definitely did do was create more colorful and better looking loaf, despite the small tear in the top. I'm not sure why that tear formed; it wasn't due to having too much bloom from not having risen enough, since it rose an extra 40 minutes while the first loaf was baking.

Both Beth and Kevin complained that the no-knead bread went stale quickly. Except for sandwich loaves like my Farmhouse White or Oatmeal Toasting Bread, I never eat room temperature bread. I am a bread snob who demands it fresh from the oven or reheated so that the crust crisps back up. Any crusty bread in our house that won't be devoured within a couple of hours usually goes into the freezer as soon as it's cool.

Things got a little crazy on the farm during this baking project, though, and I ended up leaving the round loaf of Italiano bread in a plastic zipper bag on the kitchen counter for three days before getting around to making that much-anticipated mozzarella grilled cheese sandwich. I don't think the sandwich suffered. Then this morning I toasted up a big slice of the now four-day-old bread in my beloved toaster oven to go with some Swiss chard scrambled eggs. Slathered with butter, it was fantastic.

The bottom line is that this bread is a snap to make and produces a flavorful loaf with a wonderfully crisp crust. The dough is extremely forgiving and will happily work around your schedule. While the freshly baked hunk I had with butter the first night with dinner was good, I think this bread really shines when it is toasted by the slice or used for grilled cheese sandwiches. I thought the fresh mozzarella was perfect. A sprinkling of freshly grated pecorino romano on top of it added a nice touch. After one bite (that photo shoot felt like it lasted forever!) I was thinking patty melt, maybe with Italian sausage.

If it were summer, I would have slipped a few slices of heirloom tomatoes from my kitchen garden into the sandwich. Today I was wondering about homemade oversized croutons and Italiano bread salad. This bread has definite possibilities. Just please don't tell my pain au levain.

Susan's Italiano No Knead Bread
Makes two 1-1/2 pound loaves, three 1-pound loaves, or four baby 12-ounce loaves

This is my basic no-knead bread recipe with the Italian sausage seasonings added in, so if you like, you can leave out any or all of the first 6 ingredients and it should come out just fine. I did increase the flour by about a cup for this version, though I'm not sure if that was due to the pesto making the dough wetter, or the fact that it's a lot more humid now than it was last winter when I was baking this bread so often (our woodstove dries out both the air and my flour). Probably both. Even with the extra flour, the dough was still wetter (slacker) than I remembered it being, and I ended up adding more flour once it had risen to keep it from sticking to the counter and my hands.

Many first time bread bakers complained that the original no-knead bread recipe made a dough that was too wet, but I think this was because they were afraid to deviate from the original recipe and add more flour — which makes sense if you're baking a cake but not if you're making a loaf of bread. Don't be afraid to add more flour to your dough if it's too sticky and unworkable.

No matter what kind of bread I'm making I always do the same thing: use a set amount of water and then vary the amount of flour to make the dough the right consistency. It's always a good idea to start with a little less flour than a recipe calls for and gradually add in more if you need it.

Ingredient US volume | Metric Volume | US weight | Metric
chopped fresh parsley 1/2 cup | 125 ml | 1/2 ounce | 12 grams
basil pesto** 1/2 cup | 30 ml | 1 ounces | 28 grams
chopped fresh oregano 1/4 cup | 60 ml | 1/4 ounce | 8 grams
fennel seeds 2 Tablespoons | 30 ml | 1/2 ounce | 13 grams
ground paprika 2 Tablespoons | 30 ml | 1/2 ounce | 14 grams
granulated onion (or onion powder) 1 Tablespoon | 15 ml | 3/8 ounce | 9 grams
salt 1-1/2 Tablespoons | 22 ml | 3/4 ounce | 22 grams
pepper 1/2 teaspoon | 2 ml | 1 gram
bread flour (approximately) 7 cups | 1600 ml | 2 lbs 3 ounces | 993 grams
instant yeast 1/2 teaspoon | 2 ml | 1 gram
cool water 3-1/4 cups | 770 ml | 1 lb 12 ounces | 794 grams

Pesto
When I have a good summer basil crop in my kitchen garden, I make and freeze enough pesto in ice cube trays and small plastic containers to get me through the rest of the year. Click here for my favorite pesto recipe. When I first created Italiano bread it was summertime, so I used about 1/2 cup of chopped fresh basil leaves and 8 chopped cloves of garlic in the recipe. I almost nixed the idea of an Italiano No-Knead Bread right after coming up with it since there won't be any basil in the garden for months. Fortunately inspiration struck when I remembered a half cup of pesto in the fridge leftover from a recent pizza making party. Using ready made pesto cuts down on prep time, too, as you don't have to peel and chop all that garlic.

Mixing and fermentation
Combine parsley, basil pesto, oregano, fennel seeds, paprika, granulated onion, salt, and pepper in a small bowl.

In a very large bowl, combine about 6 cups of the flour with the yeast. Add 3-1/4 cups water and stir well (I use a wooden spoon). The dough will be shaggy and sticky. Stir in herb mixture until well incorporated into the dough, then add enough of the remaining 1 cup of flour so that the dough pulls away from the bowl when you stir it (depending on your flour, your weather, and about 45 other variants, you might not need to add any more flour). Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and set it somewhere that is preferably between 60F and 70F for 20 to 24 hours. The cooler the air, the longer the rise and vice versa.

Shaping and final rise
The dough will have risen significantly and should be dotted with bubbles. Generously flour your work surface and place the dough on it. Sprinkle more flour on the dough, and with floured hands, fold it over on itself three or four times. The dough may be very slack (wet). If necessary, keep adding a little flour at a time to the dough until it reaches a point where it will hold its shape and not stick to your hands.

As I mentioned earlier, this no-knead dough was the wettest I'd ever made. Once it had risen, I pretty much poured it out onto the counter, then watched in wide-eyed fascination (and slight horror) as it just kept spreading and spreading. But working in a little more flour made it quickly turn from a scary pile of slime to a recognizable lump of dough.

Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 20 minutes.

Note: Alternately, at this point you can sprinkle some dough in the bowl, put the dough back in it, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and place in the refrigerator for up to 24 hours. After 24 hours, my dough had risen almost back up to the top of the bowl and was sending up big bubbles — a little freaky, but a sure sign that it was still very much alive,

Divide the dough into two (or three or four) pieces. Using enough flour to keep the dough from sticking to the work surface and your hands, gently and quickly shape each piece of dough into a ball. I use the method Daniel Leader describes in his wonderful book, Bread Alone: "Use slightly cupped hands to tuck the sides of the dough to meet underneat the mass, rotating the dough as you do so. After a few tucks the dough will form into a a tight ball." For a more oblong loaf, gently stretch the ball into desired shape.

Place the dough seam side down on a cotton towel (not terry cloth) that has been generously coated with flour. Generously sprinkle flour on the tops of the loaves and cover with a damp cotton towel. Let rise for about 2 hours (or 3 hours if you've just taken your dough out of the refrigerator).

After 1 hour, preheat your oven and baking stone to 450F (230C).

Baking
When you poke a finger gently into the loaves and the dough readily springs back just a little, they're ready to bake. (I'm really bad at judging whether dough has "doubled in size," so I never use that method to decide if it has risen enough.)

Generously flour a wooden pizza peel (or an unrimmed baking sheet, or a rimmed baking sheet turned upside down) and carefully overturn one of the loaves onto it (so it is now seam side up), shaking it gently to make sure it isn't sticking to the peel. If there is a whole bunch of flour caked on the top of the loaf, you can carefully brush some of it off with a pastry brush (I now use silicone pastry brushes for everything — easy to clean and no more bristles coming off in your food!).

If desired, quickly cut two or three shallow slits in the top of the loaf (I use a large serrated knife), then carefully slide it onto the hot baking stone. Repeat with the second loaf if it looks like they will both fit on your baking stone at once. Otherwise cover it with a damp towel and set it somewhere cool or in the refrigerator.

This dough is pretty forgiving. When I baked the batch in these photos, I didn't realize until I'd put the oblong one into the oven that there was no way both loaves would fit at once, though two each of either shape probably would have. There was no room in my fridge for the second loaf, and the pantry wasn't any cooler than the kitchen, so I just left it on the kitchen counter while the first one baked. It had plenty of spring left in it and rose nicely.

Continue baking until the crust is dark and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom, about 35 to 45 minutes. I use an aluminum peel to remove breads and pizzas from the oven. Let cool at least 30 minutes before slicing or tearing into it.

If you are planning to toast it, this bread will keep at room temperature in a plastic zipper bag for 3 to 4 days. Otherwise freeze anything you don't plan to eat within 24 hours. Like pretty much all breads, this one freezes beautifully. No need to defrost before reheating--simply place frozen bread in a preheated oven until hot and crisp.

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