The Peace of Bread

I seem to be in a bit of a blogging funk these days.  Here's a few snapshots of what's been going down around here:

Pool parties with the cousins...

The Boy, off to 5th Grade Camp, reveling in his ever-growing independence, while I look on, proudly, with just a hint of sadness that it's happening oh-so-quickly...

The Girl, also reveling in her own way, making me smile at her funky fashion sense...

While I, in all truth, must admit to feeling just a bit lost these days.  For the past ten plus years, I've had my main focus centered on caring for the kiddos, both mine, and my niece and nephew.  Now that they're back in school, and my niece and nephew have moved, I find myself with a very large chunk of time on my hands, and a little at a loss as to what to do with myself.  Adding to this parenting milestone, plus a gimp ankle that keeps me kind of stuck, our supposedly short stint renting a home while we wait for our new house to close, has grown to what feels like epic proportions of  six months.  This untethered, unsettled sense of existence lingers throughout my day, while I look for new ways to define myself, and to be useful, while waiting the interminable wait to be making my own home again.

Knitting, of course, tends to take the edge off...

...but not entirely, by any means.

And so, I've been baking bread.

There is undeniable peace to be had in baking bread.  Particularly when it turns out so very heavenly.  It's not exactly filling the gap entirely, of giving me a solid sense of purpose, but it does give me a mission of sorts.

I haven't given up my bread machine, mind you.  That baby is still too much a gem in my eyes, and kneading still feels like too much work to me.  But I have been turning out some seriously good loaves these days.  It's a bit of a time commitment, working with a poolish, a French-style overnight sponge to add depth and texture, but hey, time is something I have in abundance right now.

This loaf is based on the classic French Pain de Campagne, with a marvelously thick, crusty exterior, and beautiful holey, slightly sour interior.  It's everything bread should be, even if I do cheat a bit with my machine.  I will say that I was rather hesitant to share the recipe, as words seem insufficient to describe a process that is actually quite instinctive.  In the end, though, I've decided that it's just too good not to share. 

Before I share the recipe, I'll also suggest that it helps to have either some experience working with wet dough, or at the very least, the confidence to trust that with a bit of practice, it will work out.  I flour my board liberally, and I do mean liberally, when shaping the loaf, and rely heavily on my dough scraper to help move it from board to baking sheet.  There is a balance though, between using flour to prevent the dough from sticking to the board, and actually adding more flour to the dough, which will result in a heavy, unlovely loaf...with none of those gorgeous holes.  Wet dough is essential, to the point of almost sloppy, and you'll need to wash your hands a few times while shaping.  It's well worth the work.

Here we go:

Pain de Campagne - adapted from Rustic European Breads

-makes one large boule

We'll start by making the poolish in the bread machine, the night before.

Poolish Ingredients

3/4 cup organic bread flour*

1/2 tsp yeast**

1/2 cup room temperature spring water***

*Organic flour is called for, as it hasn't been chemically treated.  Those chemicals interfere with the natural rising processes called for in this bread.  I have successfully used non-organic flour, in which case, I add an extra half teaspoon of yeast, to the dough, just to be safe.  (Not to the poolish.)

**You can use either bread machine yeast, which doesn't need proofing.  Or, if you like to buy a large quantity and can only find it as active dry yeast, you'll need to proof it, in order to get it working.  Simply add the water and yeast to the bread machine pan, and wait about 10 minutes, until the yeast dissolves and begins to look a little frothy.

***If your water is city tap water, it's most likely chlorinated, which also interferes with yeast.  You can use bottled water, if you like.  (I don't like.)  Or you can use filtered water, if you have a filter.  Or you can simply leave your tap water out during the day, or the night before, and the chlorine somehow miraculously goes away.  (Don't ask me, I'm not a scientist, I just read a lot.)

After having read the above notes, place your ingredients in the bread machine pan, proofing your yeast if necessary, and set it to the dough cycle.  Go to bed, confident that the poolish is doing its thing.

Next, we'll start our dough.  If you're unable to start your bread the next morning, never fear, just pop the poolish into a covered container, and refrigerate it, and bring it back to room temperature once you're ready for it.  It'll be fine for a day or so, and it'll add even more flavor to your finished bread.

Pain de Campagne Ingredients

1 tsp yeast** (see above note on yeast)

1 cup whole wheat flour

1/2 cup rye flour

2 cups bread flour

1 Tbs sea salt

1 cup plain yogurt, at room temperature (I've used it straight from the fridge, with no problems.)

1 cup water

poolish from the night before, about 1/2 a cup (I use the whole lot from the previous recipe)

To the poolish in the bread machine, add your yeast, yogurt, and water. Allow the yeast to proof, if using active dry yeast.

Add the flours and salt, and set the machine to the dough cycle.  Once complete, dump the dough on to a heavily floured board, and have your dough scraper ready, and your hands well floured.  (If for some reason, life gets in the way of you completing the loaf right now, simply place the dough in a large, covered container and refrigerate it until you have time to rise and bake.  It'll be just fine, and actually benefits from the rest.  You must allow space in the container because the dough will still rise somewhat, initially, in the fridge.)  Use the dough scraper to slide under the bread, while shaping your dough into a boule, or round.  See my notes from another loaf on how to do this, here.)  You should have a little something like this:

Dust the top of the dough with flour, and around it, then cover with a plastic garbage bag, and leave to rise in a draft-free place, until approximately doubled in size.  You'll know your dough is fully risen when you gently prod it with a finger, and it doesn't immediately spring back, but rather leaves an impression, then slowly goes back to its original shape.  If you're not sure you'll be able to move your risen loaf (it is large, and takes a bit of finesse that comes with practice), you can move it before its rise, to a baking sheet covered in parchment paper.  I don't do this, but it may be easier if you're just getting the hang of things.

Check on your bread from time to time, it can take anywhere from an hour, to much longer, depending on room temperature and how active your yeast is, to be ready.  You'll want to preheat your oven to 450 deg F, for about half an hour before baking, with your baking sheet in the oven.  (Unless you've chosen to raise your dough on the sheet.)  I turn the oven on when the finger prod is still springing back at me, but not quite as quickly.  Again, the more often you do this, the easier it becomes.

Just before baking, place near the oven:  oven mitts or potholders, a sharp serrated knife or razor blade, a water mister (just the cheapy plastic sprayer kind, if you have it, if not, don't worry about it), and your dough scraper.  Sprinkle cornmeal on your baking sheet.  Flour your hands, and using the dough scraper, gently loosen the dough from the board and very carefully move to the preheated baking sheet.  Working quickly, and with confidence, slash the dough about 1/2 an inch deep, in a cross over the top of the dough, and place it in the oven, misting with water.

Set the timer to 20 minutes, then rotate the pan 180 degrees, and cook for another 20 minutes.  My bread takes about 50 to 55 minutes to fully bake, but it's best to check it after about 40 minutes or so.  To do this, flip the bread over, and thump it with your knuckles on the base.  If it's done cooking, it'll sound hollow and deep.  (Again, with the practice, you'll get this.)  The crust will look quite dark, well before it's done, and that's a good thing.

Once the bread is done, remove it to a cooling rack, and cool it for at least 30 minutes, if you can wait that long.  It's hard, believe me, when you have that beautiful loaf sitting there, all sorts of pride filling your heart at what you just made, from scratch, and a lovely aroma wafting about the kitchen.  But resist the temptation to slice it, to allow the bread to finish its work.  (Plus you don't want all that time and effort to result in a smushed, gummy loaf.)

Now, cut into that baby, and enjoy.

There is definite peace of mind to be found in baking bread, and with time, the entire process becomes almost second nature, from start to finish.

Check out what I've got going for my next bread mission:

A science project of sorts, cultivating wild yeast from wild plums and apples, to create my own sourdough starter.  And I do believe it's working, people.  I'll keep you posted.

Have a beautiful day.

Simplest Bread Machine Recipe Ever

Okay...the title may not be entirely correct.  But I couldn't possibly fit:  "Simplest Bread Machine Recipe for Pain Ordinaire that Tastes Like it's Bakery-Bought.  Ever."  Could I, now?

Now that we've got that out of the way, I'm going to get straight to the point.  That is, I am deeply dependent on my bread machine.  Never for baking though.  I can't stand the loaf shape and texture when it bakes in that odd rectangle pan.  I use it for its muscle, and so I don't have to spend time and energy kneading.  Just pop the ingredients in the pan, set it on the dough cycle, and leave it, until it's time to shape and bake the loaves.  Couldn't be simpler.

And the small amount of effort required to shape a couple of baguettes is truly nothing, especially when you are rewarded with a gorgeous aroma wafting from your oven, and beautiful loaves that could have been bought in a bakery.  Well worth it.

See?  Yum.

So, I'm going to walk you through the steps, so you can see how simple it is.  The recipe for Pain Ordinaire is from my bread bible, Rustic European Breads from your Bread Machine.  I love this book.  Every recipe, bar one (the foccacia), has been amazing.  The technique for shaping loaves I picked up from River Cottage Bread Handbook, which is a truly invaluable book, even if you decide to wuss out, like me, and let your bread machine do the heavy business.

As for the Pain Ordinaire, this is the stuff that everyone eats in France, aside from baguettes.  It looks like a baguette, it pretty much tastes like a baguette, but technically, it is not a baguette.  That recipe is here, and it's more involved, but darn tasty.  After the machine's done the hard work for you, this recipe seriously takes 5 minutes of your time shaping, about an hour or so to rest, and half an hour to bake.  Yes, that does add up to over 2 hours.  But if you're hanging out at home, it certainly won't get in the way of the rest of your busy day.  So never fear.  And you get to look like a serious badass, throwing down these beautiful, homemade loaves.

Here you go:

Pain Ordinaire in the bread machine - adapted from Rustic European Breads from your Bread Machine

Ingredients
1 1/4 cup warm water
2 1/2 tsp active dry yeast
3 cups unbleached bread flour
1 tsp salt

Useful Tools
dough scraper
water bottle
serrated knife or razor blade

Place water and yeast in bread machine pan, and leave it to bloom for about 5 minutes.  The yeast will soak up the water and begin to look a bit frothy.  Add the flour and salt, and place the pan in the bread machine, on the Dough cycle.  Mine takes an hour and a half, some are shorter.  I don't think it really makes a huge amount of difference.

Turn the dough on to a very lightly floured board, lightly flour your hands so the dough doesn't stick (not too much, you don't want to dry out the dough, or it'll become tough), and shape the dough into a tight ball.  To do this, I fold a "corner" of the dough inward, to the middle, turn, and fold the next corner, turn again, and fold all the way around, so you have a little packet sort of thing going on.  Flip the dough over, so the folds are on the bottom, cup your hands around it, and gently twist dough about a quarter turn, while applying gentle pressure inward and down with your hands, and keeping the dough on the board.  This seals up those folds, and tightens the skin, which will give you that nice crust.  (I should have taken photos of this, but as you can imagine, it's rather awkward to do while covered in flour.)

Cover the dough ball with a large plastic garbage bag, or an overturned bowl, and leave to rest for about 20 minutes or so.  It should look something like this, when you go back to it:

Next, take your dough scraper (you can use a sharp knife, but the dough scraper is super handy, as you'll see in a bit), and cut your dough into two equal parts.

To shape the loaves, gently tap the air out of one risen bit of dough, so it looks like this:

Now, fold the top third of the dough down to the middle, and gently press with your finger tips to seal.

(I don't know why my hands look so oddly red.  Looks like they've been dipped in paint or something.  Or a vat of acid.  Oh well...I do this for you guys, ugly hand photos or no.  Guess I won't be modeling for any lotion ads anytime soon.  So it goes.)

Fold the bottom third up to the middle, just like you did the top.

(Also unsure of why I appear to be flipping the bread off.  Or you people.  It's hard taking a photo one-handed, is all I can say in defense of my apparent and unintentional uncouthness.)

Now, take the top and bottom edges and bring them to the middle, pinching together to seal.

You'll end up with a loaf that looks like this:

Flip that baby over, and gently roll it back and forth a few times, until your dough is a few inches shorter than your baking sheet.  Do the same with the other loaf, and leave to rise on a lightly floured surface, again covered with a plastic garbage bag.  (Many people use a damp tea towel, and you certainly may do that.  I picked up the garbage bag trick in River Cottage Bread Handbook, and it keeps the moisture in the bread better.  And less laundry.  Plus you can re-use the bag several times.)

Once the dough has doubled in size...and this is a variable time, depending on the temperature of your room, the weather, the alignment of the stars, and heaven knows what else...anywhere from half an hour to over an hour usually...it'll look like this:

You'll know it's fully risen when you gently press a fingertip into the dough, and it doesn't immediately spring back, but leaves a small impression.  If you allow your loaves to rise too long, they'll fall, so just reshape and let them rise again, if that happens.  Don't worry, yeast can be pretty forgiving, and will allow you to mess with it for about 3 rises before baking, if you have to.

While you're waiting for the dough to rise...about half an hour in on my time, turn the oven onto 450 deg F.  About ten minutes before baking, place your baking sheet in the oven to preheat.  Get a spot set up for this last bit, because it'll move quickly.  Near the oven, place your water bottle, a serrated knife, dough scraper, and hot pads, then remove the baking sheet from the oven.  Using your dough scraper, carefully run the edge under the loaves to loosen them, then lift one end with the scraper, and one end with your hand, and quickly move the dough to the baking sheet.  Repeat with the other loaf.  Slash each loaf quickly, three or four times with your knife, and spray with water, place in the oven, and spritz the oven walls several times.  Set the timer to 15 minutes, spraying the oven and loaves every 5 minutes.  This spraying crisps the crust.

This sounds rather wordy, but it's incredibly easy, especially once you've done it a few times.  I'd love to have photos to show you, but I do not have that many hands, alright, people?

When the timer goes off, rotate the pan back to front, and continue baking for another 15 minutes, then allow to cool on a wire rack for at least 20 minutes.

If you can wait that long.

Happy Bread Baking!

Possession

That nine-tenths of the law thing?  Has anyone ever known it to apply to any useful, real-life situations, that might benefit us?  Such as....oh, I don't know...I've checked this book out from the library so many times (and perhaps have contributed to a slight amount of flour inside the pages)...that it is now mine.  Ah, I didn't think so.  Oh well, Christmas is coming...

This book, that I am so loathe to release from my possession, is Rustic European Breads from your Bread Machine.  And, I kid you not, every single recipe that I've made - every single one! - has been great.  I may be nurturing a slightly ridiculous obsession with all things baked (baked savories, anyway, not as much for the sweets), but I don't care.  Bread is the staff of life, after all.  I live for the stuff.

Because I love bread so very much, and because there are no decent bakeries in a 40 mile radius from my home...and because I do tend toward the why-spend-money-on-it-when-I-can-learn-to-make-it-myself (aka - cheap, no!, self-sufficient) side, this book sings to me.  There's a recipe for every sort of bread craving you might find yourself in possession of.  And the best part?  Bread machine, baby!  Who has time to do all the kneading?  Granted, it does still take a little planning and timing, but we do have these marvelous contraptions called clocks...oh, and brains...so it's just a matter of working out when to have those delicious little numbers popping out of the oven, and cooling on a rack, awaiting their fate.  That is:  My Belly.

So, today's treat is a recipe for Milk Rolls.  And, yes, that really doesn't sound overwhelmingly exciting, I am aware.  However, let me just say this:  Light, airy, and fluffy on the inside, with a perfect, pillowy crumb.  Not to be confused with a dinner roll, mind you.  Here's why:  the crust.  While possessing the loveliest, softest insides, these rolls have just the right crust to hold stuff.  While definitely not a crusty roll, they do possess an exterior of the utmost integrity.  An admirable crust, you might say. One that is just perfect for showcasing a great filling:  sloppy joe's perhaps, a good burger, or maybe a nice slow roasted pork shoulder with some coleslaw?  Oh yes.  That's the stuff.

Whatever you choose to fill them with, be it a sloppy something or other, or a nice sharp cheese and salami, these are the kind of rolls that are best served with something delicious inside.  Enjoy!

Milk Rolls - Adapted from Rustic European Breads for your Bread Machine
- makes 10 large rolls

Ingredients - place in your bread machine in the order the manual calls for, I do my wet ingredients first, followed by salt, sugar, and yeast, then the flour
2 Tbs yeast
3 cups bread flour
1 Tbs sugar
1 1/2 tsp fine sea salt
2 Tbs vegetable oil
2 large eggs, lightly beaten*
1/2 cup warm water
1/2 cup milk
sesame seeds, for sprinkling on top (optional)
1 egg white, for brushing (optional)

*Note*  The original recipe calls for using only 1 egg in the dough.  I must have not been paying attention last night, and used two, and the result was an even softer roll, than when I previously made them, using one egg.

Process on the dough setting, for the entire time, if using a 1 1/2 or 2 pound machine.  If using a smaller machine, remove the dough after it finishes kneading, usually about 1/2 an hour in, then allow to rise in a large, lightly greased bowl, covered with plastic wrap.

Lightly grease a large baking sheet.  Turn the risen dough onto a lightly floured surface, and form the dough into 10 tight, smooth, equal balls.  Place the rolls on the prepared baking sheet and cover with a tent of aluminum foil, or a large garbage bag.  If using the bag, lightly flour the rolls, so the plastic doesn't stick to them.  Set aside to rise until doubled in size, roughly an hour.  Twenty minutes before baking, preheat oven to 375 deg F.

Once the rolls have doubled in size, remove the foil or bag, and, if you choose to top with sesame seeds, brush them lightly with egg white, then sprinkle with the seeds.  If you don't wish to have sesame rolls, simply spritz with water before placing in the oven.

Bake on the middle rack for 18 to 20 minutes, until golden brown.  Allow to cool on a wire rack, then split and fill with your heart's desire.

These rolls will keep in a plastic bag for up to one week.

Happy Eating!

Bagels

Alright, folks.  Today's recipe is a serious treat.  One that I wish I'd discovered years ago...because just think of all the time I've done without this one.  The very thought fills me with sadness.

Okay, kidding.  Little flair for the dramatic there.

Here's what we're making today:

Homemade Bagels.  With our trusty bread machine.  And Oh.  My.  Word.  These are actually bagels. These are not glorified rolls with holes in the center, that we're optimistically dubbing bagels. The texture is spot-on.  Just the perfect density; lovely and chewy on the inside, crusty on the outside.  I am beside myself about these bagels, truly.

I can't help but lament the fact that I didn't discover this recipe years ago, back when we lived in New Zealand.  There I was, heavily pregnant, and I mean heavily, largely, huuuuugely pregnant, overcome by an obscene craving for bagels.  And no bagels to be had.  That's rough, people.  I tried to make my own, with a recipe or two, with no success.  Those fetal cravings went unmet.  Tragic, I know.  But now, I've got it.  And if any of you are experiencing similarly overwhelming bagel lust, and dwelling in a bagel-free zone, have no fear.  I'm here to help.

This recipe comes from Rustic European Breads from your Bread Machine.  A massive find I happened upon at the library, and now absolutely must own.  Every recipe I've tried from this book has turned out great.  That doesn't usually happen with breadmaking books.  At least not in my twisted little world.

Bagels - adapted from Rustic European Breads
 - makes 8 bagels

Ingredients
1 1/3 cups warm water
3 tsp kosher salt
3 Tbs sugar
4 tsp bread machine yeast (I use Red Star Active Dry Yeast, not bread machine, and it's perfect)
3 1/2 cups bread flour

2 quarts boiling water
2 Tbs malt syrup *

* The recipe states, emphatically, to use malt syrup, no substitutions.  I, however, tend to chafe at rigid instruction, so of course I substituted...because of course, I had no malt syrup.  I used 1 Tbs maple syrup, and they were lovely.  Do what you feel is right.  Follow the rules.  Or rebel a little.  Your choice.*

Place the ingredients (except boiling water, and malt syrup) in your bread machine pan according to your machine's instructions.  Set for the dough cycle, if you have it.  Otherwise, just let the machine do the kneading work for you, stop the cycle, and leave the dough to rise for one hour.

Toward the end of the rising time, bring a large pot of water, with the syrup, to a boil, and preheat the oven to 425 deg F.  Lightly grease a large cookie sheet, and sprinkle with cornmeal.

When the dough is finished rising, turn it out onto a lightly floured board, and knead a couple of times to deflate any air bubbles.  Evenly divide the dough into 8 equal pieces.  (I use my dough scraper and cut the dough in half, then each half in half again, etc.  Equal parts, easy peasy.)  Roll each piece of dough into a ball, and flatten slightly.  With your thumb, or fingers, poke a hole through the middle of the ball.  Pull and stretch the dough until it's roughly donut-sized.  The dough will pull back in a bit, so stretch it a little larger than you'd like the final product to be.

Adjust the heat under the boiling water to a low boil.  Gently drop 4 bagels into the water, and allow to boil for 30 seconds.  Using a skimmer, or slotted spoon, flip them over and boil for another 30 seconds.  Remove and drain on a clean towel, while you boil the other 4 bagels.

Place the drained bagels on the baking sheet, and bake in the preheated oven for 11 minutes.  Working quickly, remove the sheet from the oven, flip the bagels over, and bake for another 11 minutes.  This is key to the crust-to-chew ratio, as the recipe states.  And I did listen on this one.

After 22 minutes, the bagels will be lightly browned and shiny.  If not, continue baking for another minute or so, but watch carefully so they don't burn.  Cool for at least 10 minutes on a rack.

Gorgeous, aren't they?  These are best eaten the day they're made (obviously), but will keep in a plastic bag for a day or two.  Keep it simple and serve with some cream cheese, or make it more of a meal with some smoked salmon, or fresh veggies.  Yum.

I'm looking forward to trying a few adaptations on this recipe this weekend, for brunch.  And I'm going to be testing my claim of authenticity on East Coasters...New Yorkers, in fact.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Go make some bagels!

J'aime les baguettes

I don't mean to brag, but...those, there?  Right above?  I made those.

Obviously, social niceties (ie...no bragging) must play a lesser role to my immense pride in having successfully made baguettes.  Baguettes that rival many you'd by in a grocery store here, stateside.  A super crisp, crunchy crust, with a lovely soft interior.  I will of course, not dare to compare these to the real deal, a la française.  I do know better than that.  Je ne suis pas un idiot.

And the best part?  They are so easy to make.  Only four ingredients are required; yeast, water, flour, and salt and  - get this - the bread machine does the kneading for you.  The only tricky bit is that you must be nearby for most of the day.  They do take a solid six or so hours from start to finish.  Fortunately though, most of that time is rising time.  And waiting impatiently for your first taste time.  Delicious.

I came across this recipe in a book I found at the library, Rustic European Breads From Your Bread Machine. Rustic?  European?  Bread?  Oh, darling, you had me with rustic.  And bread machine?  Meaning I don't have to do all the hard work?  Oh my, yes.  Needless to say, I sort of fell in love then and there.

This recipe makes three, 17 inch long baguettes, although I had to make mine a bit shorter to fit in my poor excuse for an oven.  (Note to self:  Get over said poor excuse for oven.)  Nonetheless, they tasted divine, if slightly stubbier than the long, sleek bad boys you'd find in a boulangerie.

Also, the dough does not do its rising in the machine, as it would overflow, and make a giant mess.  Listen for the beep that signals the end of the knead cycle (mine's about half an hour in), then remove to a large, oiled bowl for the rise.

Here's the recipe.  Don't be intimidated, they're truly simple to make.  If I can bang these out, with my itsy- bitsy spitfire of an oven (Note to self:  You're still not over it.), anyone can do it.

French Baguettes For A Crowd - adapted from Rustic European Breads
- makes three 17-inch baguettes

Ingredients
2 1/2 tsp active dry yeast, or bread machine yeast
1 1/2 cups water, at room temperature
3 1/3 cups bread flour
2 tsp fine sea salt

Place water and yeast in your bread machine pan, and give the yeast a few minutes to bloom (so it looks nice and fluffy), then add the flour and salt.  Set your bread machine to the dough cycle, and when the kneading portion of the program completes, remove the dough.  Place it in a lightly oiled, large bowl, turning once to coat the top with oil as well, and cover with plastic wrap.  Leave in a warm place to rise until roughly tripled in size, about 3 hours.

Remove the plastic wrap, and with wet hands, lightly punch down the dough.  If you're new to bread-making, let me clarify that punching down dough doesn't so much resemble taking a swing at the defenseless dough, as gently prodding it with your fingers, to deflate the carbon dioxide that the yeast has created.  This allows the yeast to get back to work, and with adequate rising, your bread will be that much airier and lovely.  So, punch, or rather tap, down the dough, and let it rise again until doubled, about an hour.

Lightly flour your work surface and hands, and turn the dough out onto it.  Divide into three equal pieces, and let rest for 5 minutes.  Meanwhile, lightly oil a large baking sheet.

*Note*  My oven will only hold two loaves at a time.  If you have a similarly unfortunate situation, simply place one third of the dough back in the bowl, cover, and leave it in the fridge while your loaves rise.  Remove and continue on, once you put the first two loaves into the oven to bake.

With floured hands, roll each piece of dough into a 17 inch long cylinder (or however long you like).  With the side of your palm, gently hit the top of the cylinder all down its length to form a lengthwise crease across the top.  Pinch the crease closed with your fingers, and taper the ends of the loaf.  Lay the baguettes on the prepared baking sheet, leaving at least 3 inches between them, and lightly mist with water.  Cover loosely with a plastic garbage bag, tucking the ends under the baking sheet, and leave to rise in a warm place until doubled in size, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.  Twenty to thirty minutes before baking time, preheat the oven to 450 deg F.

About 5 minutes before baking, set a kettle to boil, and place a rimmed baking sheet, or pan, on the bottom shelf of your oven.

Press the dough of one baguette lightly with your finger; if it feels springy and has not dried out and formed a crust, leave it be.  If it has formed a crust, gently roll it over so that the bottom is now on top.  (If you've adequately spritzed with water, and kept it covered, it shouldn't need this step.)

Slash the baguettes diagonally with a razor or very sharp serrated knife 3 times along the length, about 1/2 an inch deep.


Lightly mist with water, and place the baking sheet in the middle of your oven.  Fill the rimmed sheet at least an inch deep with the boiled water, and quickly close the oven door.  The resulting steam will give the baguettes their delectable crunchy exterior.

Bake for 25 minutes, turning loaves front to back midway through baking.  The finished loaves should be lightly browned, and sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.  Allow to cool on a rack for at least 30 minutes before devouring...if you can wait that long.

Bon Appetit!