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.

The colder weather has mercifully cried uncle, and yesterday I walked home from work without a coat to bask in the collective sigh of relief and squeal of joy. There is nothing like the first warm Friday night in New York City. 

I made the necessary stops on my way home, to collect the essentials for a balcony celebration: avocados, grilling supplies, extra limes. By the time I had schlepped one large bag of charcoal on my shoulder (in addition to many, many bags) for 13 blocks and 2 avenues, I was a sweaty, happy mess.

Prior to our current apartment, I’ve lived in 14 other places and not a single one had sufficient surface area and ventilation for grilling (and yes, I did consider the fire escapes). There is not a single amenity that I would trade for our lovely balcony. It’s our 60 square foot oasis.

During the warmer months, we abandon our dining table and enjoy all of our meals outdoors. The balcony becomes our outdoor kitchen, our herb and vegetable garden, our cocktail bar, and the crime scene for a rosebush that I brutally murdered last summer.

For the first grill night of the year, I wanted to try something a little different. I had been saving some beautiful pork chops in the freezer, and I consulted Epicurious for grilling recipes that were off the beaten path.

I had my doubts about the anise rub – I’m not a total hater of anise, but, um, licorice pork chops? I put my faith in the praises of the reviewers on Epi and stuck to the recipe. There were some small setbacks – the mango that I selected at the store felt and smelled the way a good mango should, but cutting into it revealed that it was still too yellow and just not juicy enough. The limes too – were mealy and did not contain the desired amount of juice. (thanks for nothing, Whole Foods)

The rub felt counterintuitive, and I fretted that the mojo was not going to be mango-y enough, but all was forgiven when we took our first bites. I must stress – this recipe can only work on the grill. The flavors from the hardwood charcoal (chem-free and awesome, allows food to taste like food, not lighter fluid or gas) and flames transformed the anise, and the mojo complimented the meaty flavors perfectly. We felt very satisfied with our first grilled meal of the year – I can’t wait for tomorrow night with its forecasted 72 degrees.

Grilled Pork Chops with Anise-Seed Rub and Mango Mojo
Adapted from Gourmet, May 2000

For mango mojo

1 mango, peeled and coarsely chopped

1/4 cup fresh lime juice

1 large garlic clove

1 tablespoon chopped fresh jalapeño (including seeds)

1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro
For anise-seed rub

1 tablespoon anise seeds

3/4 teaspoon black peppercorns

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 teaspoons sugar

3 tablespoons olive oil

4 (3/4-inch-thick) loin pork chops, trimmed

Prepare grill (do not spread charcoal out to edges of grill).

Make mojo:
Purée mango, lime juice, garlic, jalapeño, and salt in a blender, then stir in cilantro.

Make rub:

Finely grind anise seeds and peppercorns in an electric coffee/spice grinder with salt and sugar. Transfer mixture to a small bowl and stir in oil.

Grill pork:

Brush both sides of pork with spice rub.

Grill pork on an oiled rack set 5 to 6 inches over glowing coals 2 minutes on each side. Move pork off to side of grill (not directly over coals; moderately low heat for gas grills) and cook pork, covered, turning once, until just cooked through, about 3 minutes more on each side.

Transfer to a platter and let stand, loosely covered, 5 minutes.

Serve pork with mojo.