During the weekend following Thanksgiving I received no less than ten emails from readers and friends containing questions about how to bake bread. It’s not much of a stretch to see why, since lazing around the house (obviously, how I spent the long weekend) is very conducive to bread baking, and bread dough provides lots of time for lazing, so the yeast has time to bring the proper rise.

I was happy to see that many of the emails were from first-time bread bakers, but quickly discovered that with bread, it’s hard to answer general baking questions, such as, “Dear Lauren, How does one go about making bread?” in a succinct email. I’d start out discussing gluten development, find myself going off on a tangent about the science involved , only to realize that (four paragraphs later), I still hadn’t touched upon the subject of yeasts and leaveners. I’m pretty sure that I ended up causing confusion instead of clarity.

The incident, and these questions, made me think back to how I became interested in bread baking in the first place, years ago, when I was looking to step up my homemade pizza game. My preoccupation with chewy dough and crispy crusts led me to want to learn more, and so, I expanded my repertoire: a homemade challah, some dinner rolls, and sandwich bread right from my own oven.

Like most things that involve science, the best way to learn is by schooling yourself. Start with this article in the New York Times by Mark Bittman and Jim Lahey of Sullivan Street Baking Co. From there, check out some great books on the subject, for example, this one by Peter Reinhart , or this one by Jeff Hertzberg. Then go find recipes that look interesting to you in magazines, books and websites (I love the King Arthur Flour site when I need recipes).

The best way to get better at baking bread is to practice and experiment to see what works best for you. Today I felt like baking something a little different, so I dug into my stacks of Gourmet as a source of inspiration and stumbled across this straightforward recipe for fougasse, a traditional French bread. I thought that the combination of orange and anise sounded wonderful and different, so away I went, applying all the technique I’ve garnered over the years, and the results were as delicious as they are stunning.

Anise Fougasse
Adapted from Gourmet, December, 2006

I adapted this recipe to use bread flour instead of all-purpose because I wanted a more chewy crumb for my bread. The original called for orange flower water, an ingredient that falls into my category of “strange and/or hard to find”, and decided that I wanted a wetter dough with more straight up orange sweetness, so I added the juice of the orange instead. I baked this on a preheated pizza stone in a very hot oven, with a pan of water on the bottom of the oven to keep it moist (this is a theory I’m testing, it’s supposed to help home bakers get a great crust). I sprayed the bread liberally with water immediately after putting it in the oven for the same reason. Some bakers believe that this works, others will swear that it’s bunk. I’m still deciding, but at the very least, I think it improves the look of the crust.

For starter:
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 cup warm water (105–115°F)
2 teaspoons active dry yeast (from a 1/4-oz package)
1/2 cup unbleached all-purpose or bread flour

For dough:
2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon anise seeds, lightly crushed
2/3 cup water
1/3 cup orange juice
1 teaspoon finely grated fresh orange zest
1/3 cup mild extra-virgin olive oil, plus 1 tablespoon for brushing
3 1/4 cups unbleached bread flour, plus additional for kneading
1 1/2 teaspoons flaky or coarse sea salt

Special equipment: a stand mixer fitted with paddle attachment, a spray bottle filled with water

Make starter:

Stir together sugar and warm water in bowl of mixer. Sprinkle yeast over mixture and let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. (If yeast doesn’t foam, discard and start over with new yeast.)

Whisk flour into yeast mixture until combined well. Let starter rise, loosely covered with plastic wrap, 30 minutes.

Make dough:

Add sugar, salt, crushed anise seeds, water, orange juice, zest, 1/3 cup oil, and 11/4 cups flour to starter and beat at medium speed until smooth. Mix in remaining 2 cups flour, 1/2 cup at a time, at low speed until a soft dough forms.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead, sprinkling surface lightly with flour if dough is very sticky, until smooth and elastic (dough will remain slightly sticky), 8 to 10 minutes. Form dough into a ball and transfer to a lightly oiled large bowl, turning dough to coat with oil. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let dough rise in a draft-free place at warm room temperature until doubled in bulk, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Punch down dough (do not knead), then halve. Pat out each half into an oval (about 12 inches long and 1/4 inch thick), then transfer to 2 lightly oiled large baking sheets.

Using a very sharp knife or a pastry scraper, make a cut down center of each oval “leaf,” cutting all the way through to baking sheet and leaving a 1-inch border on each end of cut. Make 3 shorter diagonal cuts on each side of original cut, leaving a 1-inch border on each end of cuts, to create the look of leaf veins (do not connect cuts). Gently pull apart cuts about 1 1/2 inches with your fingers. Let dough stand, uncovered, until slightly puffed, about 30 minutes.

Put oven racks in upper and lower thirds of oven and preheat oven to 450°F. If you have a pizza stone, place inside the oven and allow it to preheat too.

Brush loaves with remaining tablespoon oil and sprinkle with sea salt. Bake, either on the pizza stone or on the back of baking sheets, switching position of baking sheets halfway through baking. As soon as the loaves are in the oven, spray liberally with water from the spray bottle. Bake until loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on bottom, 35 to 40 minutes total. Transfer loaves to a rack and cool to warm or room temperature.

Cooks’ notes:

Fougasses are best eaten the day they’re made.

Back in the summer, I made a promise that I’d be blogging about bread recipes and techniques on the heels of my summer spent learning to bake artisan bread (click here, and here, and here, and here), and here I am in October, apologizing for just getting down to it now.

The  change of seasons and the upcoming holidays are putting me in the mood to start making beautiful loaves again, and rather than mourning my loss of no longer having the privilege of using the FCI’s ridiculously awesome steam-injected ovens that produce the most heavenly, crispy, and downright perfect crust, I’ve set my sights on mimicking those conditions in my home oven instead.

Over the coming weeks I’ll be testing different home sourdough starters (and restarting the one in my fridge that’s been dormant since August) and tracking down some necessary equipment to bake crusty loaves, but today I decided to at least get my hands back in the dough by warming up with some mini-brioche (or brioche à tête. In French, tête  means “head”).

Contrary to popular belief among home cooks, brioche is actually very easy to make. As with all breads, there is a lot of downtime for the cook while the dough rises, but the process itself is not that hard.

When it comes time to shape your dough, divide the pieces as evenly as possible. I use a digital scale to do this (aiming for pieces that are 50 grams, give or take a few). Pat the pieces flat, then fold the piece in half and stand it up on it’s ends (if it were a book, the spine wound be facing you). Then form a “cage” around the dough piece and form it into a ball by pushing the dough in a circular motion with your thumb and gently pressing with the palm of your hand. It takes a little time to get the hang of this, but once you do you can quickly shape the balls of dough. Once you have a ball, find the smooth top part and form the head by using the flat side of your hand to separate about 1/3 of the dough away from the original ball. rock your hand back and forth until the dough is almost, but not quite, separated from the original ball.

Place the larger side of the dough piece down into your tin (I used these fluted tins, but you can use a muffin tin just as well) and press your fingers in around the seam where the head meets the rest of the dough. The aim is to tuck the head down into the bottom dough piece while still maintaining the seam. This prevents the head from popping off during the final proof or in the oven.

Once the dough is shaped, it is important to allow it to proof ( this is a term for when the dough rises) before baking. It will puff up to a little less than double it’s original size during this time, and the elasticity will relax.

Apply a light egg wash before baking, taking care to avoid the seam around the head.

There are few kitchen endeavors more satisfying than sitting down to brunch with friends and serving them buttery, tender brioche made with your own two hands. These are as adorable as they are delicious, and totally worth the time.

Brioche à Tête
Adapted from King Arthur Flour

This is a recipe where using a stand mixer with a hook attachment or the mixing function on a bread machine is absolutely necessary – even the strongest person’s arms would fall off if they tried to make this by hand!  Cooling is an important part of the bread making process – make sure that you remove the brioche from the tins five minutes after baking and allow it to cool completely on a rack.

Makes 12

2 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon instant yeast
3 large eggs
1/4 cup lukewarm whole milk
10 tablespoons butter

egg wash:

1 egg
1 egg yolk
pinch of salt

Directions

In a stand mixer with a hook attachment or bread machine (programmed for dough), mix together flour, eggs, yeast, and milk until they form a very stiff, dry dough. Add the butter, a chunk at a time, and the salt and sugar. Mix on medium  to form a smooth, shiny dough. Don’t worry; what starts out as a sticky mess becomes beautifully satiny as it kneads. This dough takes longer than most to develop, so be prepared to let the dough knead for up to 15 to 20 minutes in a stand mixer. If you’re using a bread machine, let it complete its kneading cycle, then continue as directed below.

Form the dough into a ball (it’ll be very soft), place it in a greased bowl, cover the bowl, and it let rise for 1 hour. Then refrigerate the dough for several hours, or overnight. This will slow the fermentation and chill the butter, making the dough easier to shape.

Divide the chilled dough into 12 pieces and roll the pieces into balls. Place the balls on a very lightly floured cookie sheet and allow them to rest for 30 minutes. The dough should lose some elasticity and become a bit bigger.

After 30 minutes, shape the dough pieces (full description with photos above) Place the dough into the greased pan(s) of your choice, spread evenly on a baking sheet if using individual tins, cover lightly, and let rise for 2 hours, until it’s doubled and looks very puffy.

Beat the egg and egg yolk together with the pinch of salt. Brush the tops of the brioche lightly with the egg wash (you really only need a little, make sure to wipe the excess off the brush before gently applying), avoid applying egg wash to the seams.

Place the pan(s) into a preheated 375°F oven and bake for 25 to 30 minutes (tent after 10 minutes if they’re browning too quickly). Remove from the oven, let stand for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a rack to cool completely. Store in a closed paper bag for up to two days or double-wrapped in plastic wrap in the freezer for up to one month.

There are two ways to roll out the dough between each folding of the dough when making viennoiserie. You can do it the old fashioned (read: time consuming way) by hand, or you can do it using a machine called a sheeter. A sheeter is a must have if you are planning to make croissants on a daily basis. It also is a near-necessity for truly perfect croissants because it gives you perfectly even rolled out dough (and butter), and it works fast, keeping things cold, which is important. I first discovered the sheeter in this video from The City Bakery, which shows you the whole process in mass production, if you are interested.





Using a sheeter makes a potentially hard part (rolling the dough, focusing on the temperatures) easy, and frees you up for concentrating on the really hard part: shaping. I’ve made croissants at least five times now in class, two big sheet pans at a time. I’ve also made raisin danish spirals with pastry cream and apricot cream cheese pinwheels, both, unfortunately, not pictured. All of these items are really hard to shape perfectly, although the chefs make it seem effortless.





Learning to make croissants became a fixation of mine, and I started using it as the opening argument in the ongoing internal debate: Halt Career to Go to Cooking School? Yes? No? It was one of those things that I would never be able to learn how to do well without the proper equipment. A very small bullet point in the “pros” column that was a catalyst for getting more serious about considering school a viable possibility.





And lo, I am not an expert, but these are pictures of croissants that I made, and I’m getting more happy with my technique each time I make them. It’s a skill I’ll take with me when I go looking for baking work after graduation from bread class next week. Exciting times!

Just minutes make a big difference, and when you are dealing with eight different breads, each on it’s own schedule, it takes focus to ensure that the dough develops properly.





This is especially true of many German breads, which often contain a large percentage of rye, because rye does not contain gluten to help give it structure. If rye is allowed to ferment past it’s prime, it becomes flat, extremely sticky, and will not yield a properly formed loaf. You have to be vigilant. And with so many doughs on the schedule, you have to work fast.





We’ve never had such a busy day. We scaled ingredients with precision and our mixer barely stopped spinning. Our team divided like lightning, at times spreading two or even three massive tubs of dough across the bench, scaling each piece carefully on the balance. We shaped with focus. You could hear a pin drop in the bread kitchen.





And at the end, when all the breads had been pulled from the ovens and were stacked high and deep on the cooling racks, we stepped back and admired what we’d done. As we packed up our tools and wrapped up bread for the weekend, a clam settled over the bread kitchen. No one had to say a word, our faces, full of satisfaction, said it all. We are six weeks into our bread education, and we are loving every minute.

The whole point of doing these things repeatedly and every single day, is that each time I do them, I absorb a little more knowledge of exactly how the tiny nuances of the process should feel, or look, or react. There is simply no other way to become good at the art and science of making bread – you must do it over and over in a very focused way.





You might begin to see how the masters who practice every single day still discover new things to learn about technique.





On Friday in the bread kitchen, surrounded by the organized chaos that comes with three teams of four people each working through their own schedules of baguette, bordelais, siciliano, ciabatta, olive bread, and brioche baking at the same time, I was pre-shaping (that’s the first shaping, the one that is followed by resting and then a second shaping and more resting before it can be loaded into the oven) a piece of dough in my favorite style (the round pre-shape), when I paused to think about why I love the round pre-shape so much.





With the round pre-shape, you start by folding the edges if a piece of dough inward and over one another, forming a pouch-like shape that you could pick up by the gathered edges. You then flip the dough over and roll it carefully against the bench with moulded hands that are both strong and soft, pulling the dough tight enough to create tension that will give the dough structure and prevent it from slumping into a puddle, but not so tight that it rips apart. I love how the dough feels in my hands when I’m shaping round, it’s something to do with the precision and perfection involved, and the speed to keep moving at an efficient clip.





This is just one small example, but it is helping me come to terms with how I’m feeling about all of this bread stuff; the meditative properties, the hard, physical labor, the mental preparation of being ten steps ahead, the heat of the oven on my face and hands and the satisfying feeling of shoving a wooden peel into the oven and getting to see the results.





When I arrived at the Fire Island house, I opened up my flour sack and pulled out some breads I’d baked that day. There were a dozen people staying with us and no one went hungry with all the French toast, burgers atop grilled ciabatta, baguettes smeared with stinky cheese, and hunks of crusty olive bread dunked in hummus. As much as I love the work involved in making the breads, the best feeling of all giving people satisfaction and enjoyment of eating bread made the way that all breads should be, but too few are. Even people who know nothing about bread can see and taste the difference.


I have no doubt that my relationship with bread with continue to evolve, but for the time-being, I’m having an unexpected love affair, which I hope will become more of a long-term thing.

There is one bread that I have committed completely to memory, and it’s an important one to know. Each day, no matter what other types of bread our class is learning to bake, it is our job to make baguettes for L’ecole, the school’s restaurant. And so, each day, we work in teams to complete these 14 steps, and each day we become a little better at making our baguettes than we were the day before.





This kind of repetition might seem boring to some, but to me there’s nothing more exciting than going over to the rack at the end of the day to retrieve my tagged baguette for a critique with our chef instructor.





I’m getting much better at shaping the baguettes (my first one was quite misshapen) but I’ve got some work to do on scoring them properly. It’s harder than it looks, but of course, I am determined.





You may notice that there is no recipe in this post. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to structure the blog while I’m in school, especially the first 8 weeks, which is continuous bread baking, which can get old. I’m considering a couple of different options, such as alternating post types (after all woman cannot live on bread alone – although Brian has tried since I’ve started bringing so much of it home) or perhaps blogging home adaptations of the recipes we make in class. Any suggestions, blogosphere? I know you’re out there! That’s what the comments box is for (hint, hint). Cheers!

I am dead tired today, and It’s all I can do to keep my eyelids from drooping down over my eyes and obscuring the view of my laptop screen. You see, I haven’t been sleeping very well, and I have a lot of reasons for feeling like I’m one word away from collapse.

First off, there’s the constant drip, drip, drip from the big hole in my bedroom ceiling where water continues to come in with each nightly storm. Each time I hear it, I’m reminded of our building management’s incompetence and inability to fix anything – in fact they usually just exacerbate the issue – and the whole ordeal makes me violently angry. We’ve had this leak for over a year and these clowns still can’t fix it. And the dripping keeps me awake for hours. There’s also my rude ground floor neighbor who fancies himself a younger version of Hugh Hefner and has taken to throwing obnoxious parties at 2 AM in his illegal, ground-floor hot tub on weeknights. 

So what do I lie awake thinking about? Good, exciting things, for starters: The first day of my International Bread Baking class on July 6th, our recent engagement (I’ll shut up about it, I promise), and my friend Scott coming in from Prague for a visit on Friday, just for some examples.

But I’ve also been under stress, and I’m beginning to feel the brunt of that as well. Getting student loans in order hasn’t been an easy process, and my new frenemy Salle Mae, without whom cooking school would not be possible, sure hasn’t made things easy or affordable. Then there’s all the little errands that have had to happen; getting a replacement social security card (lost) and license (expired when I turned 30), having tests for TB and Hepetitis A (needles, next to snakes are my biggest fear) so my doctor can sign off  when I go back tomorrow with the official form, trying hard to secure some freelance marketing work to stay afloat, and worrying that it’s not going to happen, not to mention still working on the full-time marketing gig that is still mine for the next few weeks.

Maybe it’s no coincidence that I started thinking a lot about the things that my grandmother baked for us when we were kids, as her baking was the ultimate comfort food for all of her grandchildren. I called up my mom the other day and ask her to go through grammy’s recipe box to look for some of my old favorites, and I named this zucchini bread specifically. She found two different versions, which I have combined into one for blog purposes. There were no instructions on the index card, just the ingredients inscribed with pencil in my grandmother’s delicate handwriting and the cooking time and temperature. She knows the technique by heart, so she’s never had a need to write down baking instructions.

I was skeptical about the oil in the bread recipes, mostly because I flat out don’t like canola oil. Sure, you get a moist crumb, but what’s the point when it’s at the expense of taste? I always detect an off flavor using it (or at least, I imagine it), but perhaps that is because of the absence of flavor that comes with using butter. The bread was very good, but in the future I’ll go with my gut and sub in butter. I encourage you to do the same. Perhaps it was for the best that my bread wasn’t as good as I remember it (or at any rate, I’ve developed higher standards for cooking fat) because I only ate a little slice. If I had made it with butter I would have risked devouring the whole loaf in a stressful fit, and that’s not a great idea, given that my mom and I were just considering wedding-wear choices on the phone last night (shoot, I did it again).

Zuchini Bread Recipe
Adapted from Grammy Hall’s recipe box

3 eggs

2 cups of granulated sugar

1 cup canola oil

3 cups flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

3/4 cup sweetened, shredded flake coconut

3 cups grated zucchini

1 teaspoon vanilla

optional: 3/4 cup chopped walnuts or semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease and flour the bottoms and sides of two bread loaf pans and set aside.

In a bowl, sift together flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon and set aside.

Place the eggs, and oil in the bowl of a stand mixer (or, you may also use a hand mixer or do it the old fashioned way) and beat on medium for about 30 seconds. Add the dry ingredients in three equal additions, scraping down the sides and mixer paddle with each addition, beating until just combined. Add the coconut, zucchini, and vanilla (and the walnuts/chocolate chips, if you desire) and beat until just combined. Pour the mixture in equal amounts into the bread pans. Bake for approximately 1 hour, or until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack. Allow the bread to cool completely before cutting. Keeps for 3-4 days wrapped in foil, or up to a month in the freezer wrapped in multiple layers of plastic wrap.

With all these big life-changing decisions going on, I’ve been struggling to keep it together this week and I’m going through a mood that’s caused me to briefly lose my enthusiasm for cooking.

The menu has been the definition of lazy – rocket, straight from the pre-washed bag, Greek-style yogurt, trail mix, and peanut butter, spooned from the jar. There was also some less-than-spectacular takeout. 

Then, during a very much needed mid-week cleaning spree, I took a shot at cooking redemption and made homemade bread, which, I reasoned, would lead to sandwiches, which would be better than eating things straight from their packages.

This is the perfect bread to make while you are doing household chores because it makes almost no mess. All it really takes is time – the dough comes together before your eyes in the food processor. Just knead for a minute or so, and then it’s ready to rise. Throw it into a bowl, cover it, place it somewhere warm, and then get to work. Or, sit around and write the next great American novel, meditate, watch whole seasons of Gossip Girl online (not that I would ever do such a thing).

Come back in two hours, punch it back down, let it rest, fold it up, and let it rise again. Get back to whatever it was you were doing. Before you know it, the bread’s ready for the oven.

Using this homemade bread as the base will improve any sandwich – it the best thing since, uh, well, you know. It’s so soft and flavorful, and it holds up well without being too dry – it’s leagues above packaged bread. Next time I’m going to make a few loaves at once and freeze them. You have to try this. I mean it.

Sandwich Bread 
Adapted from How To Cook Everything: Simple Recipes for Great Food by Mark Bittman

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

2 cups all-purpose flour or bread flour, plus a little more for kneading

2 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 tablespoons instant yeast

2 tablespoons honey

2 tablespoons butter at room temperature, plus more for greasing the bowl and pan

1 1/3 cups cool milk (whole works best, 2% is also acceptable)

Optional: chopped fresh herbs. 

Place the flours in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Add the salt and yeast and process for five seconds. With the machine running, add the honey, butter, and milk through the feed tube. Process for about 30 seconds, then remove the cover. The dough should be a well-defined, barely sticky, easy-to-handle ball. If it is too dry (crumbly) add milk 1 tablespoon at a time, and process for 5 to 10 seconds after each addition. If the dough is too wet and sticky, add flour one tablespoon at a time and process for 5 to 10 seconds. Knead the bread for a minute or so.

Grease a large bowl with butter. Shape the dough into a ball, place it into the bowl, and cover with plastic wrap or a damp towel. Place it in a dark, warm place (I put it on top of my clothes dryer in a closet while I was doing laundry) and allow it to rise for two hours, until doubled in bulk. Deflate the ball and shape it once again into a ball and allow it to rest for 15 minutes, covered.

Using only enough flour to keep the dough from sticking to your hands or the work surface, flatten it into a rectangle then shape it into a loaf by: 1 – folding the sides of the rectangle inward, so their edges touch 2 – pinch the edges together, forming a “tent” 3 – flipping the dough over, pinched side down 4 – folding the edges under 5 – placing the dough pinched side down, into a greased 9×5 inch loaf pan. 6 – flatten dough into the pan using the back of your hand. 

Cover and let rest for 1 hour, or until the top of the dough is nearly level with the top of the pan.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Brush the top of the loaf with water, then place in the oven. Bake about 45 minutes, or until the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when you tap it (it will fall easily from the loaf pan) or the internal temperature reads about 200 degrees F. Remove loaf fromthe pan and cool on a wire rack before slicing.

I no longer make official resolutions at new years, because I’ve found that no sooner than I’ve proclaimed loudly to the world that I resolve to be more virtuous or less gluttonous, I’m right back at the vice within the week. However, I did make one quiet, non-resolution resolution to just myself this year. I (un)resolved to make more (and buy less) bread.

I really believe that this is a (non-) resolution that even I can keep. And I’m getting my motivation on thanks to the February 2009 Gourmet that arrived a few weeks ago, full of pretty pictures of roll varieties. I (non-) resolve to make them all.

The thing is, bread is not hard, although many people think it’s just impossible. After all, someone invented a large, appliance/consumer of precious counter space that everyone was told in the late 80s was completely essential for making bread. Thus, I blame bread makers (and the rediculous infomercials ) for the popular notion that bread making is difficult.

I also think it has something to do with the fact that there are lulls in the action as you wait for the dough to rise – it gives folks the perception that bread takes too much time, which is simply not true. It is perfectly sensible for one to come home from work, throw the ingredients together, knead for a little bit (that takes about a total of 10 minutes work), then let the thing rise and go to the gym. Or clean the house. Or have a glass or two of wine while listening to Bloc Party in your pajamas. Presto – before you know it, it’s ready to go in the oven (OK, another 30 seconds worth of work).

This bread may look complicated, but it’s dead simple, I promise.

And I added another use to the growing list of uses for the kitchen shears, which have become an East Village Kitchen essential. If you are in NYC, you can get a nice, heavy duty pair that can cut through pretty much anything, for cheap in the restaurant district.

It’s pretty fun to mess around with the dough. The idea here is to end up with rolls on a “stalk” that can be placed at the center of the table for guests to tear off. I wasn’t having a party  (just killing time while my onions were caramelizing), but rolls are great if you’re like me and don’t eat a whole lot of bread, as they can be stored in the freezer and thawed out in the oven as needed.

Spritzing the rolls with water several times within the first five minutes of baking was a very effective method for developing a thick crust. I also recommend placing a pan of water on the lowest rack of the oven to keep things nice and humid in there. Humid ovens make the best crusty bread.

Using this technique, you will end up with perfectly crusted outsides and warm chewy insides with a great flavor and texture from the cornmeal. There is simply nothing better than eating bread that you have made yourself, making it an easy new habit to form.

Crusty Cornstalk Rolls
Adapted from Gourmet, February 2009 

1 1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast (from a 1/4-ounce package)

1 1/4 cups warm water (105–115°F), divided

1 teaspoon mild honey or sugar

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour plus more for kneading and dusting

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoon stone-ground yellow cornmeal, divided

Equipment: a spray bottle filled with water

Stir together yeast, 1/4 cup warm water, and honey in a large bowl and let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. (If mixture doesn’t foam, start over with new yeast.)

Mix flour, salt, 1/2 cup cornmeal, and remaining cup warm water into yeast mixture with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until a soft dough forms.

Turn out dough onto a well-floured surface and knead, dusting surface and your hands with just enough flour to keep dough from sticking, until dough is elastic and smooth, 6 to 8 minutes. Form dough into a ball.

Put dough in an oiled large bowl and turn to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel and let dough rise in a draft-free place at warm room temperature until doubled, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Punch down dough (do not knead) and fold into thirds like a letter (dough will be soft), then gently roll into a 12-inch-long log with lightly floured hands.

Sprinkle a large baking sheet evenly with remaining 2 tablespoon cornmeal and put dough diagonally in center. Alternating sides, make 3-inch-long diagonal cuts, about 1 1/2 inches apart, into sides of log using kitchen shears (ends of cuts should not touch; maintain a center “stalk”). Gently pull apart cuts to stretch dough, forming rolls that are separate (about 1 1/2 inches apart) but connected to center stalk. Cover with a kitchen towel (not terry cloth) and let rise in a draft-free place at warm room temperature until doubled, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Preheat oven to 425°F with rack in middle. Set a pan of water on the bottom rung.

Spray rolls with water, then bake, spraying into oven 3 times in first 5 minutes of baking (to help form a crust), until golden, about 20 minutes. Transfer rolls to a rack and cool at least 20 minutes.

Cooks’ note:Rolls are best the day they’re made, but whole baked stalk can be frozen (cool completely, then wrap well) 1 month. Thaw, then reheat on a baking sheet in a 350°F oven until warmed through, 5 to 10 minutes.

My mom (i.e. the biggest fan of the blog that only a mother could love) feels that people would be more interested in reading my drivel if I discuss recipes that can help them save money in these lean economic times. And while I am not ready to go about re-positioning my blog, there are many times that my recipes just happen to save me money. Here’s a good example, in word problem form:

Lauren has a bad habit of walking into cheese or specialty food stores primed to entertain, and spending an embarrassing sum on artisanal cheeses, crackers, and other snotty delights. One of her favorite boutique-y brands is Wisecrackers, whose rosemary herb crackers are a NYC steal at $5.29 a box. If Lauren comes to her senses and reminds herself that she is a little bit handy in the kitchen, she would then realize that with $.25 worth of flour and salt, $.25 worth of olive oil and approximately $.50 worth of fresh rosemary, she can make fresh-from-the oven crackers in about 20 minutes. How much money will Lauren save by making her crackers at home?

Now I’ve never been accused of being a math genius or anything, but that leaves just about enough to splurge on a delicious latte on the way home from the store.

There is simply no excuse not to make crackers at home.

Because these crackers are as delicious as my beloved Wisecrackers.

They are also a lot more pretty. And crispy. And fragrant.

They were an absolutely perfect accompaniment to the Butternut Squash Soup.

Also, they look really cool on your cheese table at parties. Your guests will think you are a totally badass baker making your own crackers, when in fact you are just trying to save a buck and barely had to do any work at all.

Crisp Rosemary Flatbreads
Perfect as is from Gourmet, October 2008

1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon chopped rosemary plus 2 (6-inch) sprigs

1 teaspoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup water

1/3 cup olive oil plus more for brushing

Flaky sea salt such as Maldon

Preheat oven to 450°F with a heavy baking sheet on rack in middle.

Stir together flour, chopped rosemary, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Make a well in center, then add water and oil and gradually stir into flour with a wooden spoon until a dough forms. Knead dough gently on a work surface 4 or 5 times.

Divide dough into 3 pieces and roll out 1 piece (keep remaining pieces covered with plastic wrap) on a sheet of parchment paper into a 10-inch round (shape can be rustic; dough should be thin).

Lightly brush top with additional oil and scatter small clusters of rosemary leaves on top, pressing in slightly. Sprinkle with sea salt. Slide round (still on parchment) onto preheated baking sheet and bake until pale golden and browned in spots, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer flatbread (discard parchment) to a rack to cool, then make 2 more rounds (1 at a time) on fresh parchment (do not oil or salt until just before baking). Break into pieces.