Yeast

Although Americans chow down on plenty of crisp pretzels, there's something irresistible about the soft variety that makes them just as addictive, if not more so, than the crunchy version. When formed into bite-size nuggets, not only do they pop easily into your mouth, but they are also small enough to eliminate the temptation to double-dip in the Cheddar sauce. You can also offer up a bowl of mustard, or divide your Cheddar dip into three bowls, flavoring one with mustard and the other with caraway seeds.
You may suspect that the large amount of baking soda to cook the pretzels is a typo; it's not. Believe us, it's the secret to the chestnut-brown color they develop during baking. Without it, the pretzels would look anemic. Editor's Note: This recipe is part of Gourmet's Modern Menu for A Father's Day Feast. Menu also includes Grilled Rib Pork Chops with Sweet and Tangy Peach Relish and The Ultimate Brownie Sundae.

These chewy-crisp flatbreads are just right for drizzling with chile oil and herb sauce or wrapping around grilled meat. Use this master recipe and topping combinations from our list below, or improvise with anything from guacamole to pesto. And yes, you can substitute store-bought pizza dough.

{sauceless} When we found out our dear friends Katie and Parker got engaged, we packed up our pizza dough and big bag of greens from our garden and headed to their place for an impromptu celebration that's become a tradition in both our homes. Though the best pizza dough takes a little preparation {it gets more supple as it sits overnight}, a pizza topped with little more than fresh farmers' market finds can be thrown together on the fly like a grand game of Twister, with everyone's arms cutting, slicing, patting, and rolling in a tangle that is soon to become a very good dinner. Sip: Snappy and crisp Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand

This versatile dough is ideally made in a stand mixer, but a food processor works surprisingly well, too.

These golden, crunchy croissants that we permit ourselves to enjoy without the slightest remorse on Sunday mornings are not as French as you might think. These pastries, known in French as viennoiserie, indeed originated from seventeenth-century Vienna. In 1683, the inhabitants of the Austrian capital suffered an attack led by the forces of the Ottoman Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa. After months of a terrible siege, they were liberated by Charles V of Lorraine and Jan Sobieski, King of Poland. This victory enabled the Hapsburgs to recover their territories of Hungary and Croatia, and the bakers made a commemorative pastry in the form of a crescent moon, the symbol of the Ottoman Empire. Folk history even accords the bakers a crucial role in reversing the battle situation. As they worked during the night, they heard the sound of the Turkish soldiers preparing a new assault and sounded the alarm. Their version of the croissant was nevertheless closer to the brioche than the croissant that we know today. A century later, Marie-Antoinette is said to have brought this delicacy from her native city to introduce it to the French court. Giles MacDonogh, however, author of a biography of Brillat-Savarin, offers a version that corresponds more closely with the dates when the croissant appeared in France (around 1900). He mentions the arrival in Paris, in 1838, of an Austrian named Auguste Zang, who opened a Viennese bakery at 92 rue Richelieu, only a few numbers away from the Brillat-Savarin building. "The business took off slowly," he explains, but eventually his kipferl cookies began to sell, literally "like hot cakes." The croissant was born. All of his croissants came out of a brand-new steam oven, above which the inscription was written La main de l'homme n'y a pas touché. (No human hand has touched them.) In those days, industrial processes inspired trust! Nowadays, any croissant untouched by human hand is suspect. The dough needs to be kneaded gently, then vigorously, until it can be detached from marble, and pieces of it shaped into a ball. The surface of each ball is then dried with a sprinkling of flour and covered with a damp cloth. Then the waiting begins. The dough is mixed with worked butter, punched down, then folded, turned, and set to rise again. This craftsmanship is becoming rarer, and the challenge is to live up to the legend, to match the taste of these handmade croissants, with their melting, silky layers of pastry.

The King's Cake (galette des rois), in whatever form it took, with a "bean" baked into it, has been the king of desserts on Twelfth Night, also known as the Feast of Kings or Epiphany in France, since the Middle Ages. In those days, the French King's Cake took different forms depending on the region. It was a brioche topped with candied fruits in Provence, a flat galette with cream in the North, a dry cake in Lorraine, a puff pastry round with an almond flavored filling in Lyon. À Paris, it was a gorenflot, a sort of enriched bread raised with baker's yeast, something like a Polish brioche. The ritual of this shared cake is symbolic of the day of the Epiphany, commemorating the presentation of Jesus to the Magi on the sixth of January, but it is also redolent of other pagan traditions linked to the cult of fertility that was so popular with the Romans. The "bean" hidden inside the cake was originally an actual lima bean, a symbol of renewal and fecundity, before it was replaced by a tiny porcelain figure representing the Christ child, then by a host of trinkets. Today, the marzipan-filled, puff pastry round has gained supremacy almost everywhere. And for good reason—few pastries can give such extended pleasure. How delicious when, under its fine butter coating, the many-layered pastry (milles-feuilles), still warm, encounters the silky, fondant marzipan on the palate—a perfect combination of the puff pastry and grainy, ground almonds. No one knows exactly when this so-called "Parisian" cake was born. The invention of marzipan dates from the sixteenth century. The history should be treated with caution, but it is sufficiently delicious to have been inscribed indelibly in the memory of gourmets. In 1588, an Italian marquis named Murio Frangipani marketed gloves perfumed with almonds. There is nothing surprising about this because perfumers were originally glove makers. The essence of Italian frangipani, about which Catherine de' Medici was passionate, inspired the pastry cooks of the French court to create frangipane cream, an equal mixture of pastry cream and almond cream. King's Cake, whether flavored with fruits or almond cream, is a dessert with a history. Certain Epiphanies have been retained in the annals. For instance, on January 6, 1650, at the Louvre Palace, Anne of Austria and her son Louis XIV indulged in the cake, leaving on the table, as was the custom, a share for the poor, in this case the very part that contained the bean. The next morning, there was "no other king than that of the bean," the king having fled Paris to escape the uprising known as the Fronde. Is it because of this unpleasant memory that the tradition of naming the person who finds the bean as "king" for the day was outlawed during Louis XIV's reign, the custom being officially judged to be too pagan? In 1770, Diderot recounted this anecdote in his Encyclopédie, summarizing it with this amusing aphorism: "Signe Denis, sans terre ni château. Roi par the grâce du gâteau." (The sign of Denis [patron saint of Paris] without land or château, King by the grace of a gâteau.) The joy of eating the crown is all part of the pleasure of enjoying King's Cake once a year, and more....

This dough is chewy, bubbly, and better than what you'll get at most pizza places. It bakes wonderfully in a home oven, on a pizza stone or a baking sheet. And thanks to the brilliant no-knead method of Jim Lahey—owner of New York's Sullivan Street Bakery and pizza spot Co.— it's easy to prepare, deriving its character from overnight fermentation, not laborious kneading. Just remember to start at least 1 day ahead.

Editor's note: Use Jim Lahey's no-knead dough recipe to make his Popeye Pie. While I'm not picky about the flour—either bread flour or all-purpose is fine—what does concern me is how the dough is handled. Treat it gently so the dough holds its character, its texture. When you get around to shaping the disk for a pie, go easy as you stretch it to allow it to retain a bit of bumpiness (I think of it as blistering), so not all of the gas is smashed out of the fermented dough. I prefer to hold off on shaping the ball until just before topping it. If it's going to sit for a while—more than a couple of minutes—cover it with a damp kitchen towel to prevent it from drying out. I offer you two approaches for shaping. The simpler one, executed completely on the work surface, is slower than the second, where you lift the disk in the air and stretch it by rotating it on your knuckles. Lifting it into the air to shape it is more fun, too.

All ingredients except the milk and water should be at room temperature. This bread can be stored in a resealable plastic bag at room temperature for up to 2 days.

The dough is easiest to handle when it’s well chilled—keep it in the refrigerator until right before it hits the grill. Depending on the size of your grill, you can make more than one pizza at a time. (Instead of making six pizzas, another option is to make four large ones; cut the dough into quarters before rolling it out.) If you don’t own a grill, you can make the pizzas on a grill pan.

There are some terrific baking books that focus on 100 percent whole-grain bread, and this style of bread has a fanatically loyal, and growing, following. I began my bread journey thirty years ago as a devotee of organic whole-grain bread, mainly for philosophical and health reasons. Though I’ve branched out to explore the entire bread kingdom and its infinite permutations, I still have a soft spot for what we used to call “pure bread.” The challenge a baker faces in making such breads is extracting the best of the grain flavor while overcoming some of the grassy and bitter tones of the bran and germ. Another challenge is attaining a crumb network that opens up both flavor and texture. The best way to evoke flavor, as we show in many of the formulas, is to give the enzymes enough time to break out sugars trapped in the starches. One way to do this when working with whole grains is to use a large amount of pre-ferment, such as a poolish or soaker. In this version, we will use both methods. A soaker is especially effective when coarse grains are part of the formula, and it also leaves open the option of substituting other grains, such as corn or oats, in place of the wheat to vary the texture of the finished loaf. Using a poolish to extend fermentation time contributes more flavor by developing acidity, balancing out the grassy flavor of the bran and germ in the process.

White bread is known under many names, including pullman, milk dough, pain de mie (bread of the crumb), and just plain old white bread. It has many uses, including dinner and knotted rolls, sandwich bread, burger buns, and hot dog buns. This style of dough is often referred to as milk dough because in most versions the hydration is primarily from fresh milk (or powdered milk and water). These white breads fall into the category of enriched breads, as they are made with the most often used natural dough conditioners: fat (butter or oil), sugar, and milk. These cause the crust to caramelize quickly and, when fermented correctly, give the finished bread a light-as-air quality with a very soft texture. The internal temperature need only reach just above 180°F for rolls and 185° to 190°F for loaves. Because of the enrichments, it is best to bake full-sized loaves at 350°F and small rolls at 400°F, but never at 450°F, as you would with lean hearth breads. The three variations that follow give you some flexibility regarding ingredients. You may substitute powdered milk (DMS) for the liquid milk and vice versa, and you may also substitute in equal measure low-fat milk, buttermilk, or skim milk for the whole milk. Making these substitutions will affect the final outcome slightly in both flavor and texture, so try making the breads with the variations and see which version you prefer (I tend to be a buttermilk guy). You can also freely substitute margarine or shortening or even liquid oil for the butter. Again, the type of fat you use will affect flavor and texture, but they all tenderize the bread. Shortening gives the softest texture, butter the best flavor.