My roommate is a bread genius. She has multiple kinds of flour, special “stoneware” equipment designed specifically for baking, and a baking book or two–– although maybe she should be writing her own by now.
She even keeps a “live” sourdough culture in a jar in the fridge– and it grows. It’s like her pet! You should smell it. What she does with it is a mystery to the rest of us housemates, but we don’t complain. From it, we get to enjoy the crisp, mouth-watering smell of fresh sourdough bread floating through the kitchen, and we’re usually lucky enough to get a slice.
That’s the thing about making bread though, isn’t it? It’s intimidating–– too much time and too many steps. Most people don’t even bother with it, since they can easily buy a fine loaf of bread for two or three bucks at Albertsons.
Inspired by my roommate’s masterpieces, I decided to try my hand at baking. Once I tried, I no longer wanted to be a baker. Talk about high-maintenance! One batch of bread kept me busy for three or four hours, because it had to rise three times and needed kneading — enough to justify skipping my workout — before it was even ready to be baked. Jesus, the bread of life, only rose once. I want a bread that is more Christ-like.
When finals were over and we were all back home, I mustered up the courage to attempt bread-making once again, embarking on a journey to find a truly Christ-like bread. I got close! The recipe I found does rise more than once, but it involves outstandingly minimal effort and makes me look like a baking expert. The flavor is delicious, a perfect canvas for too much butter, to accompany your soup, for dipping in balsamic vinegar and olive oil and much more. The best part has to be the rustic-looking crust, which is deliciously thick and crunchy. I am going to share this recipe with great hesitation– while I do enjoy looking like a genius, I must share the good news.
That’s right—only four ingredients. Here’s what you do:
Get a big mixing bowl, and dump in the 3 cups flour. Add the yeast and the salt directly into the flour, take a big wooden spoon, and stir (gently, so your dry ingredients don’t go flying all over your shirt). Now take your 1 ½ cup warm water, dump it in, and stir, stir, stir! You should have a sloppy mess of dough. Take your bowl, cover it with plastic wrap and set it aside in a warm place for 8-20 hours. The whole process, up to this point, should have taken less than five minutes. Grueling, right?
Once you’ve waited 8-20 hours, spread a handful of flour on the counter and dump your dough out of the bowl onto the floured counter. Wet your hands with water (to make sure the dough doesn’t get too dry) and take the corners, or ends, of your dough and fold them into the center a few times.
Next, grab another bowl (or wash and dry the one you used) and spread a towel in it. Put a generous amount of flour into the towel. Take your dough, put it on the floured towel in the bowl and pull the loose end of the towel over the top of the dough. Let this sit for another 2 hours.
Once an hour and a half of your two hours have passed, put a thick, oven-safe bowl or pan into the oven and pre-heat to 450 degrees. Once the oven is hot, remove your pre-heated container, grab your dough, and flop it in. Put some sort of lid (foil, a baking sheet, an actual lid) on your container, and place the whole kaboodle into the oven. Bake for 30 minutes, and then remove the lid and bake for another 15 minutes—45 minutes in total.
Congratulations! You’re done. Just remove your bread from the oven, take your loaf out of the container and let it cool down–– if you can handle waiting that long. Slather on some butter and jam, make a sandwich, dip it in soup, put cheese on it, etc. The possibilities are endless, and it was so delightfully easy!
