Black Bread

We’ve had crazy flurries of snow most of the day. I live practically at sea level, so it usually doesn’t stick. That doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to watch the world work itself up into a frenzy over nothing. Since the weathermen are terrible at predicting the weather, they anticipated a Snowpocolypse that hasn’t happened yet. Maybe tomorrow night. I’d like for it to hold off for 24 hours, though. I have plans tomorrow night. They involve walking around. Outside.

We decided just in case they weren’t kidding about the snow that stocking up on some food for the next few nights might be smart. Sure, the refrigerator store is across the street, but I don’t want to willingly submit myself to full-contact shopping over a few carrots in the midst of a snow storm. This is probably the most food we’ve had in the house in months. I’m kind of impressed since I’m terrible at meal planning.

I submitted myself to the bread gods on Sunday. I had it in the back of my head for awhile since Heidi at 101 Cookbooks posted it, and it is the time of year for soups and stews. I am a sucker for bread, especially the more creative the better. I do love rye. There are two generous cups of shredded carrot. It hides beautifully within the bread, lending a touch of sweetness and hints of orange coloring beneath its dark interior. I’ll admit it’s not my best loaf. I added way too much water at first, not yielding to the side of caution. I spent more time adding flour and getting the consistency right than I should have. It created two generous loaves because of it. Two generous but dense and rather chewy ones. It’s probably a product of over working it or under cooking it. Maybe both.

But I like it. I like dense, chewy bread. You can cut the thickness as you please. Thick hunks went perfect with the leftover beet soup. Thin slices were vehicles for sandwich fixins. I may or may not snack on it as I please. I cut up and wrapped the other loaf in tin foil, placed it in a ziplock bag, and left it to the freezer. Fingers crossed. Freezing bread always scares me. I don’t want it to go to waste.

Making bread makes me want a breadbox.

And more bread.

Inspiration: 101 Cookbooks

Ingredients

• 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
• 320-400ml 105-115° water
• 1 teaspoon sugar or brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons cocoa powder
• 2 tablespoons espresso powder
• 1/4 cup molasses
• 3 teaspoons caraway seeds + more for dusting
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
• 2 teaspoons sea salt
• 2 large carrots, grated [about 2 generous cups]
• 1 1/3 or 150g rye flour
• 3 1/4 or 425g all-purpose or bread flour + more as needed
• Olive oil for kneading and the baking sheet [unless you have a Silpat]
• 2 tablespoons buttermilk, milk, or water

Preparation

1. In a large measuring cup [or a bowl] measure your warm water.
2. Stir in the yeast and sugar.
3. Allow to 4-5 minutes to activate. It should get foamy. If not, bad yeast or too hot of water.
4. In a small saucepan on medium low, mix together the butter, molasses, cocoa, espresso powder, caraway seeds, and salt.
5. Keep an eye on it, stirring often. As soon as the butter melts and it’s all incorporated, remove from heat and allow to cool.
6. In the bowl of a stand mixer [I’m lazy!], pour in the yeast mixture. Add the molasses mixture and the grated carrot.
7. Mix on low to incorporate.
8. Add the flours. I preferred to use the paddle attachment to bring it together before adding the dough hook. This is where it took me forever. I needed so much flour.
9.  Once it comes together, use the dough hook to knead for 5-6 minutes. It should be an elastic, springy [potentially huge] ball of dough.
10. Coat a clean bowl with oil, toss your dough in it, cover it with plastic wrap and a towel.
11. Place in a warm, draft free place for 1-2 hours [I have an gas fireplace, so I set up a little table far enough away but in front of it to get a warm place. My house is cold.].
12. Once it’s doubled in size, punch it down. Mold it into a nice little bread boule or two. Place on a lightly oiled baking sheet or use a Silpat.
13. Cover with the towel again, place it back in your warm area, and let it rise for another hour.
14. Preheat your oven to 425°.
15. Bake for 20 minutes.
16. Turn the oven down to 350°.
17. Bake for another 20-25 minutes until the bottom is golden and crusty and the bread sounds hollow when you knock on the top.
18. Allow to cool on a rack for 15 minutes before cutting into it. I waited a good hour or two so I could go out for awhile. The house smelled so good when I got home.