This Is a Post About Bread

I have successfully made bread multiple times this January, despite being a self-described failure at bread in the past. And now I can teach you, too, how to bake a simple loaf of bread. Just follow these easy instructions and you’ll be well on your way to maintaining a semblance of sanity making tasty bread.

First, stop getting your news from social media. Install a browser extension that hides images of the incoming administration and changes his name to something hilarious, like Authoritarian Gingerbread Man or President Ball of Hair and Dust Mites Clogging Your Vacuum, so you have a brief moment of levity before moving on from whatever horrible doom that sentence was leading to.

What are you going to idly scroll through now, though, when you need a brain break? What about a bread forum, where people share their recent loaves and their expertise around baking? They have a novel-length FAQ that takes you several days to fully read, but hey, now you know about autolyse.

You also now know that every bread starts with the same four basic components:

Flour

Water

Yeast

Salt

You learn about the “no knead” technique, which is really just letting the water and flour rest after mixing so that certain enzymes break down the gluten in the flour and do half the kneading work for you. This is autolyse in action.

You find a pretty basic recipe to start with:
4 1/2 to 5 cups (540g to 600g) Bread Flour
1 2/3 cups (380g) water, lukewarm (90°F to 110°F)
2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
2 1/2 teaspoons (15g) table salt

In a large bowl, mix together the bread flour, water, and yeast until it starts to come together. Cover it with a towel or plastic wrap, set a timer for 20min, and try not to scroll Reddit or TikTok or Whatever Your Social Media of Choice is. In fact, take this time to un-install those apps from your phone.

Try not to think about the dozens of executive orders issued in those first days that will disrupt and dismantle the country you’ve struggled all your life to improve, through voting and protesting, through talking to your neighbors and family, through donations, through your writing, through the simple act of being an informed citizen. Don’t look up an analysis on the ways this will hurt people, regardless of who they voted for. Try not to catastrophize about the climate, the projection that in the next 50 years, it will no longer freeze where you live. Try not to worry about your children’s futures under authoritarian rule. Try not to—

Oh look, it’s been 20 minutes.

Now here’s the tricky part: kneading the dough. There are as many ways to knead dough as there are bakers, but after watching a video where a nice middle-aged lady shows you her method, you think you can do it.

Dust a clean surface with flour, roll the dough out of the bowl onto that surface, and begin stretching and folding the dough. You’ll want to smack it around and alleviate some of the fear and anger bubbling in your chest, but resist: the dough needs a gentle hand, not an abusive one. Kindness is needed now in this moment, more than ever.

For the dough, of course. Of course.

You’re looking for a smooth consistency, for the dough to come together and eat off all the sticky bits of itself it initially left on your palms and fingers. A properly-kneaded dough cleans up after itself, leaves the surfaces it has touched clean. A properly-kneaded dough is like any responsible enjoyer of nature: pack in what you pack out.

A properly-kneaded dough has more civility than some folks you could name.

When the dough is ready, it’ll dimple where you poke it and stretch for a little bit before tearing. Do not poke it too roughly, do not stretch it too far. The dough will rise for you if you are gentle.

Let it rise for 30min to an hour, depending on the temperature. It should double in size.

While it rises, write down three actionable things you can do. Volunteer in your community. Donate to your local food bank. Reach out to friends and acquaintances just to let them know you remember them, they haven’t been forgotten, that they matter. If you have privilege – if you’re straight or cis or white or male – brainstorm ways you can use that privilege to protect others. Check out Americans of Conscience for up-to-date actionable items without the panic or hyperbole.

Once you have a list and the dough has doubled in size, you’ll gently push on it to release the air bubbles. Previous instructions used to include punching the dough, but accumulated wisdom suggests that a turning and folding strategy makes for a stronger structure that will better hold together when the dough meets the heat of the oven.

Now it’s time to let the dough proof again, for another 30min to an hour. During this time you can begin washing up, or you can listen to a podcast about native bees, or you read the Simple Sabotage Field Manual by United States Office of Strategic Services.

Gather the dough one last time, plop it onto a parchment-paper covered baking sheet or a baking stone, then fold it into the shape you prefer: round or oval or elongated.

Pre-heat the oven to 475F. If you have a cast-iron pan, place it on your bottom rack; any sort of baking pan will do if you don’t have a cast-iron pan. Bring at least one cup of water to a boil.

After your dough has rested in its final shape for at least fifteen minutes, slide it carefully into the oven, then add the boiling water to the pan and quickly shut the door. The steam will initially stop a crust from forming on the dough and allow it to rise even further than if it had been restricted by the crust. This rise is called oven spring, and it’s the result of a dozen interactions between yeast and gluten and water and dough and time and hope and once the dough is in the oven, all you can do is wait and see if everything turns out okay.

Turn the oven down to 425 and bake for 20-24min.

Resist the urge to check your phone and see what’s happened in the last few minutes. Let yourself rest as you let the dough rest. Drink some water. Pick up that book you’ve been neglecting. Or go back to the bread forum and read about how dutch ovens are pretty much essential to bread baking and then wonder if you need one, too.

When the timer goes off, check first that the crust is a golden brown color before removing from the oven. If needed, you can bake for an additional few minutes.

Remove the bread and let cool for 5-10 minutes. Slice into it after only 2 minutes because you’re impatient and can’t wait. Let a bit of butter melt into the warm piece of bread you’re holding, take a bite, and marvel in what a little patience and kindness can achieve.

Share your bread with your family. Bake an extra loaf for a friend. Bring a loaf to your neighbor and ask them about their day.

And tomorrow, instead of doom-scrolling, you’ll join the sourdough forum. Repeat as needed for the next 4 to 10 years.