Category Archives: baking

Pretty Damn Good Pizza

For years, I’ve been circling pizza perfection. I’ve tried more crust and sauce recipes than I can count. Two years ago, Soren accidentally mangled an unbaked pizza trying to get it off the peel and onto the pizza stone. What had been a thing of beauty ended up half upside down, cheese sizzling on the searing hot stone. Maybe there’s no crying over spilled milk. But spilled pizza? You’re goddamn right I cried. I cried my face off. I’m kind of emotional like that. The incident became known as the Pizza Fiasco of 2010.

I still haven’t achieved perfection, but these days I’m much, much closer. Continue reading

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Best. Bread. Ever.


Ok, maybe not EVER. But it’s the best bread to come out of my kitchen. Flecked with nutty flax seeds and whole grains, this bread offers the perfect amount of heartiness, sponginess, and chewiness (I like bread that gives your teeth a workout. I want to hear ripping when I bite). Best of all, unlike most of Reinhart’s recipes, you can complete all the steps in a single day (provided you’ve already got a happy, well-fed sourdough starter in the fridge). The recipe comes from Wild Yeast, a blog I’ve been following for six months or so. I love this blog because 1. it has great pictures, 2. all the recipes use ONLY sourdough starter, 3. the sourdough starter* she relies on is 100% hydration, which basically means that it’s really easy to maintain.

[*A not-so-brief note on sourdough starters: Don't be scared, they're friendly and easier than you might think to maintain. (If you don't already have one, Wild Yeast has an excellent tutorial on how to start one here. You can also order one, like I did, here.) One common myth is that you need to be super careful to feed them weekly. I have gone as long as a month without feeding my starter, which I keep refrigerated. And it's still going strong. If I leave it for a particularly long time, I will throw most of it out before I bake and start building it up again by adding flour and water, then waiting for it to get really bubbly, then adding more flour and water, and so on. There are some great tips for maintaining your starter here.

What I love about Wild Yeast is that Susan uses a 100% hydration starter for all her recipes. That means that you add equal amounts of flour and water (I do this by weight, not by volume). No complicated math = fewer screwups. So MY starter (also 100% hydration) will work for every single recipe on her site, no tweaking required. Much simpler.]

But enough talk! You want to see the pictures, don’t you?


Mmm. Fresh bread with butter and homemade strawberry jam.

Of course, I’m a hopeless perfectionist, so I will tell you what displeases me about this loaf.

1. You can see that it’s rather flat. I didn’t get a nice dome like I wanted. I have a sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with the way I manhandled the loaf while trying to wrestle it into the oven. But how are you supposed to transfer the loaves from the place where they rise to the place where they cook, anyway? I’m thinking parchment paper for next time.

2. I cannot for the life of me get a good “ear.” The ear is the nice crispy flap that you see on the tops of artisan loaves. Here’s how it forms: You slash the loaves before they go in the oven to release gas and the dough flap formed by the slash is supposed to rear up and get really brown and crispy. Mine doesn’t. Maybe because I hacksaw my slashes with a serrated knife?

3. The bottoms of my loaves, this one included, tend to get overly thick and crisp. They are so crisp, you need some serious bicep strength to saw through them. Is my stone too close to the heat? Is that normal? What gives?

Questions to ponder I as gobble slice after slice of butter-slathered bread positively dripping with jam.

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I Don’t Knead You

Have I mentioned that I love bread? Well, I do. I love it. And I love baking it. But why does it have to be so difficult?? The chewy, crusty loaves that I adore are typically no more than yeast, flour, salt, and water. Four ingredients. Put them together right and you can bring grown men to tears. Put them together wrong and you can use your brick-like, inedible loaves to knock out purse snatchers.

There are likely some famous bakers who will argue that bread baking is a science. But to me it seems more like a faith-based undertaking. You can follow a recipe to the letter and still fail. In the end, it all comes down to the whim of a higher power: The Great Loafmaster. He is a fickle god, and apparently he is displeased with me.

Last week I spent the better part of two days putting together the various elaborate components of Peter Reinhart’s “Transitional Multigrain Bread.” Despite my fastidious attention to detail, I ended up with two bricks of whole-grain sawdust (to be fair, I think my yeast was dead).

Well, enough is enough! I’m taking a stand. Do you hear me, Loafmaster? No more bowing and kissing your pinkie ring in a vain attempt to achieve The Perfect Loaf. I’ll settle for the Pretty Damn Good Loaf. If you too are fed up with elitist bread books that talk about bigas and windowpane tests and gluten and fussy sourdough starters, welcome to the wonderful world of no-knead bread.

I first came across no-knead bread (like so many others) in the New York Times. It was a revelation, crusty, chewy, and moist. It’s not that I mind kneading. I don’t. But these loaves are simple and forgiving: They come out perfect nearly every time. No fussing, no crossed fingers, no hail marys.

The recipe in the New York Times is good. But it’s better with a few tweaks. My recipe is a hybrid of the New York Times’ recipe and Cook’s Illustrated’s “Almost No-Knead Bread.”

Happy baking!

Cassie’s Hybrid No-Knead Bread

In a large bowl, whisk together:

- 3 cups bread flour (or 2 cups bread flour and 1 cup whole wheat, or 2 cups bread flour and 1 cup rye)

- 1/4 tsp of instant or rapid rise yeast

- 1 1/2 tsp salt

- (if you’re making rye bread, you may want to add 1 1/2 – 2 Tbsp of caraway seeds. These are optional)

In a 2-cup measuring cup, mix together:

- 1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp of lager beer

- 1 Tbsp of white vinegar

Then fill the cup with cool water to make 1 1/2 cups of liquid total.

Use a spoon to mix the liquid with the dry ingredients until combined. You should have a really sticky dough. Cover your dough with plastic wrap and let rise 12-18 hours (18 is best). Dump the dough out onto a heavily floured counter. Sprinkle dough liberally with flour. Now you’re going to try to knead the bread just a bit. Add just enough flour to make 8-10 “kneads” possible. The dough can still be sticky.

Line a skillet with parchment paper. Put your dough on top of the paper, spray or rub the dough with oil, and cover the whole thing loosely with plastic wrap. Let rise 2 or 2 1/2 hours. It should rise quite a bit.

Half an hour before the dough has finished rising, place a large, heavy pot, such as a dutch oven (I love this one), in the oven and preheat to 450 degrees. (Dutch ovens typically come with plastic handles that aren’t rated for 450 degrees. I’ve replaced my handle with a metal one.) Let the pot heat up for at least 20 minutes (30 is better). Take the pot out of the oven, remove the cover, and place the dough in the pot. This is easiest if you use the parchment paper like a sling: Grab both ends of the parchment paper and place the whole thing (parchment paper and all) in the pot. Place the cover on the pot (it’s ok if the ends of the paper hang out). Lower temperature to 425 and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the cover and bake another 20-30 minutes.

The loaf should be dark brown. Allow to cool for 2 hours. Slice and enjoy!

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Jack-o-Lantern Guilt and Pumpkin Bread

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. For me, much of the joy comes from carving pumpkins. I love the feel of thick pumpkin flesh as it yields to a sharp knife. I love the feel of my fingers wiggling deep in slimy pumpkin guts (the part my stepbrother always hated). I love the sound the spoon makes as it hollows out the inside. But more than anything, I love seeing the gourd’s demonic grin shine as I set it alight for the very fist time.

But, if you stop and think about it, jack-o-lanterns are a big fat waste of edible pumpkin flesh. I hadn’t stopped and thought about it until I read a friend’s blog post just a few days before Halloween. She argues that pumpkins are simply too delicious to be turned into jack-o-lanterns. Here’s an excerpt.

While I am not against these haunted decorations per se, when I see them sprouting up in advance of Halloween, I shake my head, wondering why someone took one of the earth’s brightest bon-bons, turned it into a monster and set in on the stoop to rot. Pumpkin is far too yummy for decoration!

Just a day or two after I read her manifesto, I purchased my pumpkin. It wasn’t a sickly looking grocery store globe. Oh no! It was a bona fide pie pumpkin from my local co-op. Round and glowingly orange and probably organic to boot. I took out the carving knife and began sketching a crooked, toothy grin, but Robin’s words haunted me. I just couldn’t turn that fleshy vegetable into a seasonal ornament. Instead I chopped it up and roasted it. I sprinkled the seeds with Cajun seasoning and roasted them too. The only parts of the pumpkin that ended up in the trash were the slimy guts and the skin.


One smallish pumpkin yielded a whopping 4 cups of pumpkin puree. Half went into the freezer and the other half went to make olive oil pumpkin bread. If you decide to attempt this bread, you may want to cut back on the oil. I think 3/4 cup or 1/2 cup plus some apple sauce would do just fine. The recipe calls for nuts and raisins. I added walnuts and semi-sweet chocolate chips. Yum!


To celebrate, my clean conscience and I took to the streets dressed as Zombie Diva (in truth, all I did was add zombie makeup to my Tina Turner costume from 2006. But hey, who has time to shop for a Halloween costume when they’ve spent all day slaving over a hot stove!).

(Halloween 2009 & 2006. Notice the similarities?)

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Summer Baking


I love making bread. If I were an independently wealthy woman, I would spend all day doing it. But my funds are limited and my free time scarce. So if I’m going to go to the trouble of mixing and kneading the dough, allowing it to hang out on the counter or in the fridge for 8 to 24 hours and then letting it rise and rise again, the bread better damn well be delicious. Because lord knows there are 501 million delicious ready-to-eat loaves just waiting to be purchased. In fact, my local co-op sells a fantastic unsliced multigrain sourdough for $4.50.

My birthday yielded two of Peter Reinhart’s books: The Bread Baker’s Apprentice and Whole Grain Breads. Reinhart is a bread guru and his books (according to one of my friends) have the ability to change lives. Needless to say, I was excited. Last week I threw together some ciabatta and today I finished off two loaves of multigrain struan.

The ciabatta (pictured above) was unquestionably a success. It turned out airy, chewy and delicious–just as it’s supposed to be.

The struan looked delicious, but the taste definitely leaves something to be desired. These particular loaves contain brown rice, quinoa, bran, flaxseed and lots and lots of whole-wheat flour. Healthy? Yes. Delicious? Not so much.

I thought the point of Whole Grain Breads was to teach techniques that make whole grain breads taste not so much like whole wheat but rather like scrumptious balls of deliciousness. Yet the struan is decidedly dense and wheat-y. And it took two days and four bowls to make.

Perhaps the struan is just not my cup of tea. Perhaps I added too much bran. Perhaps I didn’t let the loaves rise long enough. Or perhaps even a bread guru can’t make four grains and several cups of whole-wheat flour taste like ciabatta. Still, I’m not ready to give up on Whole Grain Breads quite yet. Anyone up for some whole-wheat cinnamon raisin bread?

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