Cocoa-Rye Raisin Bread
This is my bread.
It starts with this gurgling little beast, my homemade sourdough:
I'm telling you, it's alive.
(I still need a name for the beast. I'm taking suggestions.)
I've been making this loaf for a few weeks now, tweaking it every so often here and there. It started as a multigrain loaf, with whole wheat and barley and rye all mixed together. I found the flavor a bit muddled, though, and the loaf was too dense. Since I was working with Anson Mills' rye flour, which is fragrant and flavorful and deserves to be celebrated, I simplified the recipe down to some white flour, some rye. Now the loaf is lighter and the rye really comes through.
Good rye flour really makes this bread sing, but there are plenty other things to love about it - enough that, were you to make it with whole wheat instead of rye, I think it would still be special. It's got cocoa and cinnamon, cloves and black pepper. Not a lot of any of these, mind you. None really clears its throat to announce its presence. The spices play a supporting role, like the honey in the dough. And they work really nicely with the golden raisins, which give pops of sweetness as you eat.
I love a good white sourdough loaf, and I love a good baguette. I adore this corn-filled bread that my friend Jess introduced to me when I visited her and Eli and their beautiful (beautiful!) daughter Mia last year. But this bread, this has become the bread. I start it on Saturday night, then promptly head off to bed. Sunday mornings, before doing all those little Sunday morning things, I fold it on itself a few times and cuddle it up on a tea towel to do its work while I'm out. By midday, we have brown, burnished loaf, ready for a week of toast.
The rhythm here is key: Saturday nights are when I feed my sourdough, dutifully dividing the beast in half and feeding it flour and water to make it grow. The unfed half is meant to be used -- in bread, duh -- and mine goes straight into the bowl with spices, raisins, and all the other goodies.
If you don't have sourdough, a) come to my house, I'll give you some. Or b) see the instructions below to make this bread without. It's less sour, of course, but really delicious in its own right.
A worthy weekend project, if you ask me.
Cocoa-Rye Raisin Bread inspired by recipes by Pim and Jim Lahey
This bread lends itself easily to any necessary substitutions. If you don't have or don't want to buy rye flour, use whole wheat. If you don't have sourdough, add 1/2 a teaspoon of yeast, and replace the 8.5 oz starter with 1 cup flour and 1/2 a cup water, added when you add the other flour and water to the dough.
10 oz. (2 1/4 cups) bread flour or AP flour 4.5 oz. (1 cup) rye or whole wheat flour 2 tablespoons cocoa 1 teaspoon cinnamon pinch ground cloves pinch black pepper 2 teaspoons kosher salt 1/2 cup raisins 8.5 oz. 100% hydration starter, fed at least 8 hours earlier (see note) 9 oz. (1 1/8 cups) room temperature water 1 1/2 tablespoons honey
In a small bowl, mix together the flours, cocoa, cinnamon, cloves, pepper, salt, and raisins until fully combined. (If using yeast instead of sourdough, add it to this mixture.)
In a medium bowl, mix together the starter, water, and honey to make a uniform mixture. Add the dry ingredients and, using a fork or your hand, mix until you have a wet, shaggy dough, about 30 seconds. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a towel and let sit at room temperature until the surface is dotted with bubbles and the dough is more than doubled in size, 12 to 18 hours.
When the first rise is complete, generously dust a work surface with flour. Use a bowl scraper or rubber spatula to scrape the dough out of the bowl in one piece. Using lightly floured hands or a bowl scraper or spatula, lift the edges of the dough in toward the center, folding it into itself. After doing this a few times, tuck in the edges of the dough to make it round.
Place a tea towel on your work surface and dust it with semolina, wheat bran, cornmeal, or flour. Gently place the dough on the towel, seam side down. If the dough is tacky, dust the top lightly with wheat bran, cornmeal, or flour. Fold the ends of the tea towel loosely over the dough to cover it and place it in a warm, draft-free spot to rise for 2 hours. The dough is ready when it is almost doubled. If you gently poke it with your finger, it should hold the impression. If it springs back, let it rise for another 15 minutes.
Half an hour before the end of the second rise, preheat the oven to 475 degrees F, with a rack in the lower third of the oven.
You have two choices for baking this bread.
The first is the Jim Lahey method. Preheat a large, covered pot in the oven. When the oven hits 475, use potholders to remove the pot (and uncover it) and then uncover the tea towel and carefully invert the bread into the pot. Cover the pot, transfer to the oven, and bake for 30 minutes. Then uncover the pot and bake another 15 minutes. Use a heatproof spatula or pot holders to gently lift the bread out of the pot and place it on a rack to cool thoroughly.
The second method is definitely easier and allows you to make pretty slashes on the top of the bread. Preheat either a pizza stone or a heavy metal baking pan in the oven. If using a pizza stone, flour a peel and put the shaped bread dough on the peel. Make your slashes there, then transfer it from the peel onto the preheated stone. If using a baking pan, make the slashes on the tea towel, then remove the pan from the preheated oven and transfer the slashed dough onto the pan. Either way, bake the bread for 40-45 minutes, until the top is deeply browned but not burned. Transfer to a rack to cool completely.
NDP's 2012 Holiday Gift Guide
I think I've confessed before that, despite my being Jewish, I really love the all-American, green-and-red, pine-scented, light-twinkling, gift-filled holiday that happens to coincide with Christmas. What better holiday than one that causes my colleague to bake several pounds of fudge, all at once, and give it all away? And the carols. The carols! It's true: I love Christmas. I know I'm not alone. I'm pretty sure the reason we give gifts on Hanukkah is because otherwise, all the Jewish kids would be jealous. There's nothing about the origins of Hanukkah at all connected to gift-giving. Still, at this point, it's tradition. With the holidays upon us, there's no time like now to be uber-generous. Here are some suggestions for the foodie in your life.
FOR EATING AND DRINKING
Ovenly Cookies
Ovenly is a bakery in Brooklyn with some of the only cookies worth buying. We're talking black caraway shortbread; perfect peanut butter cookies; and Stumptown shorties, the best espresso cookies you've ever tasted. Cookies are roughly $30/dozen and worth every penny.
Tea Ceremony Kit When I was in LA for work, I spent an hour before dinner browsing shops in La Brea and Melrose. That's when I happened upon Matcha Source, a sweet little shop on West 3rd St. that specializes in everything related to matcha. For the uninitiated: matcha is fine-powder green tea, delicious on its own, mixed into drinks, even baked into cookies. The proprietor of Matcha Source, Alissa White, is more passionate about matcha than anyone I've ever met. She'll tell you everything there is to know about it, even mix some up right then and there for you to taste. Her matcha is clean, pure, and transporting. She sells it in all sorts of forms, but the nicest gift, I think, is the ceremony set, which includes matcha, a scoop and sifter, and a whisk and bowl for serving. It's unique, and it's just over $50. Not bad.
Honey and Molasses Liqueur
Our good friends Kate and Rhett live in Madison, which gave us a great excuse to head out there and canvas over election day weekend. Madison is known for its beer, and rightfully so: in fact, Kate's brother opened a bar in Madison earlier this year where he serves, among other things, his own beer. Naturally, we tried them all. The #2 is, quite honestly, among the best beers I've ever had. If you're in Madison, don't miss One Barrel Brewing. But I digress: you see, Madison also has a fantastic distillery in town, called Old Sugar Distillery. They make some ridiculously good liqueur. I bought bottles of the Honey Liqueur and the Queen Jennie Sorghum Whiskey. The honey tastes like a sweet, rich bourbon; the sorghum is more complex and...challenging. It's not for the faint of heart, in a good way. I gave the honey liqueur to a friend as a gift, and you should, too.
Unless you're some sort of secret connoisseur, this will definitely be the best gin you've ever tasted. It's redolent of juniper, and it even has something sort of whisky-esque about it. I'm still not quite sure how to mix it without overpowering its flavor, but boy is it good in a martini. Also: it's local! Greenhat is brewed right here in Washington, DC.
Montreal Bagels
Much of my mom's family lives in Montreal, and as a kid, we used to take trips during the summer to see the relatives. The cardinal rule of Montreal: when in town, one must fill the belly with bagels. Montreal bagels really shouldn't even be considered a relative of their New York counterparts. They're boiled in honey-water and baked in a wood oven, and they taste like the most perfect, phenomenal toast you've ever had. And now, thanks to Montroyal Bagel, they can be shipped across North America. I've never had bagels from this bakery, so I can't vouch for them, but I admit: curiosity calls.
FOR COOKING AND SERVING
Gold Scale Tumblers
I really, really love these gold scale tumblers from Terrain. They look elegant in such an effortless way. My glasswear is my grandmothers, and it most definitely has a vintage look, so I'm always looking for other glasses to supplement my vintage goblets. These would be just perfect on a holiday table, wouldn't they? $20 each.
Sydney Hale Candles
Okay, not exactly for serving, but when you're having a dinner party, you'll be so happy to have these candles. A couple weeks ago, I went to one of my favorite stores on 14th street, Redeem. I usually go there for the clothes, but people, I stood there for 30 minutes with my nose in a candle. Actually, in like 7 different candles. These candles from Sydney Hale, they smell like home. But way, way better than my home smells. I want them, all of them. But if I had to pick just a few, I'd choose the Agave/Honeysuckle, the Clementine/Clove, and the Cypress/Cassis. But really, they're all fantastic. And to top it off, they're from right near here, in Virginia. Huzzah.
Owl Mugs
My officemate and I lost a good 10 minutes ogling over these owl mugs. They're little owls! And they make a great housewarming gift. Of course they're from Anthro. Of course.
Poppy Pie Pan
That apple pie needs somewhere to go, doesn't it? This sweet pie pan, also from Anthropologie, would be right at home in my kitchen, but I think I'll be giving it to my baking-inclined friends this season; in the dead of winter, this pan is bright and colorful enough to bring some cheer.
Simon Pearce Water Pitcher
Something about this pitcher really speaks to me. It's very streamlined but also elegant. We have a water pitcher, but I can see getting this for newlywed friends. Also: if I could buy those ice cubes, I would. Aren't they gorgeous?
FOR READING (AND COOKING)
Here are the books I'll be gifting this season:
By Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi
I didn't know it until I read it, but I've been waiting for this book for a long, long time. In Jerusalem, Ottolenghi and Tamimi share recipes for so many of Jerusalem's essential foods, like kubbeh hamousta, that sour soup with big, meat filled dumplings; big, chocolatey babka and krantz cake; and ma'moul, the tumeric-colored sweet role cut to look like a wheel and filled with date paste. It's a book that will bring you back to a specific time and place. Or, if you've never been to Jerusalem, this book will make you want to book your first trip.
By Deb Perelman
Everyone's favorite food blogger finally has her very own book, and boy, is it a beaut. I went to hear Deb talk at Politics and Prose last month, and she said that every recipe in her book has been tested a minimum of six times. Six! If you're looking for foolproof recipes for everything from cinnamon toast french toast to butternut squash and caramelized onion galette and more, look no further.
By Luisa Weiss
Luisa Weiss is a blogger and writer living in Germany her husband, Max and their little boy, Hugo. Her story is a captivating one, and you can read it start to finish in her new book. The prose will sweep you up and make you unable to do much else for about 48 hours; when you put the book down, you'll prop it open on a cookbook stand and make chorizo meatballs, red berry compote, and lots of delicious German recipes whose names are more complicated than their steps. This is a book to give someone who really gets lost in a good story and really loves to cook.
by Naomi Duguid
I don't yet own this book, but I looked through a friends copy and was utterly amazed. Naomi Duguid - also the author of Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet, a culinary survey of Southeast Asia, has outdone herself with this book on Burma. I knew nothing about the food of Burma before seeing this book, but I'm really excited about the cuisine there. It's clearly Southeast Asian, heavy on fresh vegetables like banana flours, fresh fish, and plenty of coconut. Duguid's book is more than just a collection of recipes, though - it's truly a window into a largely undiscovered culture.
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So that's it for this year's gift guide, folks. I hope you find everything you need for the foodies in your life. I'll be back later this week with a recipe. A delicious one, at that.
Lemon-Poppy Seed Sour Cream Cake
Now then. That was fun, wasn't it?
I'm imagining you all with bellies full of turkey and stuffing, cranberry sauce and cornbread and maybe too much pie. As for me, this past week was fulfilling in other ways. Time in Israel, time with family, a wedding, a weekend, and plenty of food (though none of it Thanksgiving-worthy; I'm craving some pumpkin right about now).
But it's back to work, so around here, it's back to business. And by business, I mean lemon poppy seed sour cream cake.
This cake is a vague riff on one I made a while back, with lots of maple and plenty of yogurt and, surprisingly, not a trace of butter.
That was a good cake. This one is, too. It's fragrant from lemon and crunchy from those beautiful blue poppy seeds. It's plenty moist, just like its predecessor, but slightly lighter, because I swapped out the maple for plain old sugar. If you're a demerara kind of person, this cake would be just lovely with half regular, half demerara sugar.
Post-Thanksgiving blues can overwhelm, especially when there's work involved. Take a piece of this to the office. While you're at it, bake up a second loaf for a friend. It's guiltless enough to count as an only-slightly-indulgent breakfast, and perfect with afternoon tea, which we've been drinking professionally these last couple of weeks. It's light enough to make even these increasingly cold days lighter and brighter. Before winter comes around, I'd like to keep soaking up this autumn sun. And eat more of this cake.
Lemon-Poppy Seed Sour Cream Cake
1 stick (4 oz) butter, softened 3/4 cup sugar 3 eggs zest and juice of 2 medium lemons 1 teaspoon vanilla 3/4 cup sour cream 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons poppy seeds
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
In the bowl of a stand mixer or a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Add lemon zest, juice, and vanilla, and continue mixing until the batter is smooth. Add sour cream and mix until fully incorporated.
In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add dry mix to the batter and mix on low speed just until flour mixture disappears. Add poppy seeds and mix for a few more seconds until distributed.
Butter and flour a loaf pan. Pour batter into pan, smooth the top of the batter, and transfer pan into the oven. Bake until top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean, 50-55 minutes. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then slide a knife around the perimeter of the cake and carefully invert onto a rack.