Bread. I’ve had a complicated relationship with it all my life, but it is my go-to comfort food. When I was a child, my mom didn’t bake often, but she made the most incredible buns. On bake days, the house burst with the heady fragrance of fresh bread and cinnamon buns.
In the nineties, during one dismal phase, I attempted a low-carb diet. All I could think about was bread, the smell of it, the texture of it, the taste of it. I dreamt of focaccia, tortillas, pita pockets, sourdough, and those fabulous, golden restaurant buns, served hot and cocooned in linen napkins. The ones just like my mom’s. You split them apart and slather the insides with butter that melts into the soft interior and then into your mouth. My diet was slated for failure.
14,000 years ago, back when our ancestors were hunter / gatherers, they began making bread. This was prior to the Industrial Revolution and even the Agricultural Revolution. Archeologists have found ancient crumbs. Later, in medieval times, baking methods improved and refined flour was used to create white breads. Lighter, fluffier. Only the rich could afford it. The poor were fed unleavened loaves of coarse grain. Today, our supermarkets burst with thousands of varieties, and tastes have turned tables. The wealthy now covet the rustic blends. Go figure.
Beyond eating bread, there’s something primal and deliciously satisfying about baking it.
This is a favourite recipe.
Overnight Beer Bread
This bread gives you an excuse to open a beer in the early evening. It sits overnight and you bake it in the morning. Makes one large, round loaf that has a slight sourdough taste.
3 ⅓ cups (15 ½ ounces) bread flour
1 ½ teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon instant or quick-rise yeast
¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons water, room temperature
6 tablespoons lager (you can drink the rest of the bottle)
1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar
Vegetable oil spray
Notes: If your tap water is chlorinated, it could kill the yeast. Use bottled water. This dense, moist bread benefits from a long slow rise at no more than room temperature. Any attempt to hurry the process with a warmer environment or more yeast will not yield good results.
In the evening
Mix water, lager, and vinegar.
In a large bowl or stand mixer combine flour, salt, yeast.
Make a hole in the centre of the dry ingredients and then add the liquid. If using a stand mixer, knead with the dough hook for about five minutes — or mix by hand until you get a cohesive lump of dough. It doesn’t need to be perfectly smooth.
Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit at room temperature, away from drafts, for 10 to 18 hours (I use my pantry cupboard).
In the morning
Spray a 15 inch square sheet of parchment paper with vegetable spray.
Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface until you have a smooth, elastic ball (about 5 minutes). Transfer to the middle of the parchment paper, seam side down. Lift the edges of the parchment paper and transfer it and the dough ball to a large Dutch oven. Cover and let rise at room temperature for about 2 hours.
Lightly flour the top of the dough and make a single slit with a razor or sharp knife – about 6 inches long and ½ inch deep. Cover the pot. Any overhang of parchment paper can hang outside the lid. Do not pre-heat the oven. Place in the unheated oven on the middle rack. Set the oven temperature to 415 degrees and then start the timer. Bake for 30 minutes.
Remove the lid, brush the loaf with olive oil, and continue to bake uncovered until golden brown for about 20 more minutes (210 degrees internal temperature). Turn out onto a rack, cover with a clean tea towel and cool for 2 full hours. Slice and eat. Ambrosia!