I’ve been baking from the Breads from the La Brea Bakery book since earlier this year, and at this point, I’ve made a few of the dough recipes more than once. For instance, I’ve practically memorized the bagel recipe I’ve made that one so many times. But, now that I’ve worked with the rustic bread dough a second time, I think it might be my favorite so far. It’s a very wet and sticky dough, and it seems like it’s going to be nothing but a mess until it comes out of the oven with a crisp crust and chewy, open interior full of fresh-baked, sourdough flavor. In the book, Silverton describes what the dough should feel like after it has proofed for two hours: ‘it should feel soft and alive.’ It did feel alive in that the dough was so tender, you could tell it was going to get bubbly, and it seemed full of energy. There are a few recipes in the book that use this dough, and these bread sticks are one of them. Kurt was in need of some kind of bread to take to a company potluck lunch, and I thought that bread sticks might be more fun than dinner rolls. I was also inspired by some parmesan and poppy seed bread twists I saw in Gourmet magazine a few months ago, so I added those toppings to these.
This particular dough is possibly the quickest one to make in the La Brea book. Water, sourdough starter, half of a fresh yeast cake, and bread flour were mixed with a dough hook in a stand mixer and then left to sit for 20 minutes. Then, salt was added and mixed into the dough. Some milk, olive oil, and a little more water were stirred together in a bowl before being slowly added to the dough while the mixer was running on low speed. The dough was very wet and sloshy at this point, and it was necessary to continue mixing slowly until it came together a bit. Finally, it was mixed at higher speed until all the liquid was fully incorporated. At that point, the dough was left in the bowl of the mixer, was covered with plastic wrap, and fermented for two hours. After fermenting, the dough was quickly turned out onto a very well-floured surface, and by quickly turned out, I mean plopped because there really is no shaping to be done with this dough. It just is what it is. I sort of pulled it into a rectangular-ish shape. The dough was sprinkled with more flour, covered with a towel, and was left to proof until it felt ‘alive’ which was an additional two hours. Some bubbles were forming, and the dough was otherwise smooth and lovely. I chose to brush the top with olive oil and then distribute grated parmesan and poppy seeds. Now, the goal was to cut approximately one-inch wide pieces and then stretch them as they were dropped onto a semolina-dusted, parchment-lined baking sheet. Well, this dough being what it was, I cut more or less around an inch-or-so-wide pieces, tried to pick them up and place them on the sheet without turning them into jump ropes, and then dropped them while attempting to twist the dough a little as it fell. They were rustic but no less delicious for it.
The bread sticks baked at 450 F with some water spritzing of the oven during the first five minutes and were golden and crisp after a total of 25 minutes. Kurt was happy to take these for his potluck lunch, and he was even happier that I set a few aside to keep at home. All of the other breads from this book have been great too, but there’s something about this dough that makes it special. I have a feeling I’ll eventually memorize this recipe.
I’m submitting this to Yeastspotting where you’ll find some seriously well-made bread.
This particular dough is possibly the quickest one to make in the La Brea book. Water, sourdough starter, half of a fresh yeast cake, and bread flour were mixed with a dough hook in a stand mixer and then left to sit for 20 minutes. Then, salt was added and mixed into the dough. Some milk, olive oil, and a little more water were stirred together in a bowl before being slowly added to the dough while the mixer was running on low speed. The dough was very wet and sloshy at this point, and it was necessary to continue mixing slowly until it came together a bit. Finally, it was mixed at higher speed until all the liquid was fully incorporated. At that point, the dough was left in the bowl of the mixer, was covered with plastic wrap, and fermented for two hours. After fermenting, the dough was quickly turned out onto a very well-floured surface, and by quickly turned out, I mean plopped because there really is no shaping to be done with this dough. It just is what it is. I sort of pulled it into a rectangular-ish shape. The dough was sprinkled with more flour, covered with a towel, and was left to proof until it felt ‘alive’ which was an additional two hours. Some bubbles were forming, and the dough was otherwise smooth and lovely. I chose to brush the top with olive oil and then distribute grated parmesan and poppy seeds. Now, the goal was to cut approximately one-inch wide pieces and then stretch them as they were dropped onto a semolina-dusted, parchment-lined baking sheet. Well, this dough being what it was, I cut more or less around an inch-or-so-wide pieces, tried to pick them up and place them on the sheet without turning them into jump ropes, and then dropped them while attempting to twist the dough a little as it fell. They were rustic but no less delicious for it.
The bread sticks baked at 450 F with some water spritzing of the oven during the first five minutes and were golden and crisp after a total of 25 minutes. Kurt was happy to take these for his potluck lunch, and he was even happier that I set a few aside to keep at home. All of the other breads from this book have been great too, but there’s something about this dough that makes it special. I have a feeling I’ll eventually memorize this recipe.
I’m submitting this to Yeastspotting where you’ll find some seriously well-made bread.
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