Rolls

Pugliese refers to the southeastern Italian region of Apulia (Puglia in Italian), but the variations on loaves with this name are endless. Many of the versions I’ve seen in the United States are similar to ciabatta—sometimes they actually are ciabatta, but are called pugliese just to differentiate them from the competition. What is the same is that both of these breads, along with many others, fall into the category of rustic breads, which we define as hydration in excess of 65 percent, usually approaching 80 percent. In Italy, where the flour is naturally more extensible than the very elastic North American flour that we use, there is no need to overhydrate. But here we need to pump more water into the dough in order to stretch the gluten strands, giving the loaves their distinctive big-hole structure and delicious nutlike flavor. One distinction between ciabatta, which originated in the Lake Como region of Lombardy (northern Italy), and pugliese is that pugliese breads are usually baked in rounds rather than in the slipper shape of ciabatta. The French version of a rustic bread, pain rustique, is also slightly elongated, but more of a bâtard than a slipper shape. Those, along with the pain à l’ancienne baguette (page 191) and the very elongated stirato and stubby pain rustique (pictured on page 135, made from the ciabatta dough), are all rustic breads, each with its own shape and ingredient makeup. An important distinction of the true pugliese bread, and one not often seen in American versions, is the use of golden durum flour, finely milled and packaged as fancy or extra fancy durum flour. Fancy durum is milled from the same strain of durum wheat as the sandy semolina flour that is sprinkled underneath hearth loaves and used in pane siciliano (page 198), but it is milled more finely. There are bakeries in Apulia that make this bread with 100 percent fancy durum flour and some that use a blend of durum and regular bread flours. In the following formula, I suggest a blend, but feel free to play around with the proportions, moving even into a 100 percent durum version when you feel adventurous. The challenge for anyone tackling this bread is getting comfortable with wet dough. Once you do, you will find it difficult to resist the desire to make rustic bread all the time; the softness and pliability of the dough give it a wonderful feeling in the hand. Combined with the flavor enhancement of long fermentation, this formula brings forth a loaf that is so dramatic, so delicious, and so much fun to make that it will forever change your standard of what constitutes great bread.

Rosemary has become a popular herb as culinary interest has grown and many of us have discovered how easy it is to cultivate it in our kitchen or backyard. It also has been overused, or used with a heavy hand in some instances, so I always advise restraint with rosemary: a little goes a long way. The Italians call this bread panmarino, and it is to them that we owe thanks for this interesting concept. This bread is a good one for answering the question, What do I do with these leftover mashed potatoes? The potato starch softens the dough and gives the bread a pleasing tenderness, while the dough delivers other bold flavors from the biga and rosemary infusion.

Bernard Ganachaud, in the early 1960s, made the poolish baguette the first legitimate alternative to the 60-2-2 baguette of the Parisian masses. When he retired thirty years later, his la flûte Gana was a licensed commodity, and bakers who paid for the right to make it were allowed to charge an extra franc above the government-controlled price. In the Coupe du Monde bread competition, the poolish baguette is now the standard that all countries must replicate. In my visits to the boulangeries of Paris, the poolish baguette made at the original Ganachaud Boulangerie was the second best baguette I ever had (the first being the pain à l’ancienne of Philippe Gosselin). Ganachaud has a special medium-extraction flour (with his name prominently displayed on the bags, naturally) from which he makes his baguettes, and there isn’t any flour quite like it in America. It is slightly higher in ash content and bran than regular bread flour, more like clear flour (whole-wheat flour that has been sifted only once instead of the usual twice to remove the bran and germ). The closest I’ve come to replicating that flour is described below and it makes a wonderful baguette, perhaps as good as can be done outside of the magical environment of Paris and without true Ganachaud-endorsed flour. Some people prefer it to the Gosselin baguette. See what you think.

Now that I’m living on the East Coast, I am in the center of Portuguese sweet bread universe. When I lived in California, I knew it as Hawaiian bread, but upon closer reading of the label, I learned that even the Hawaiians give credit to the Portuguese for this big, soft, sweet, round pillow of a loaf. One man I know from Los Angeles who summers on Nantucket told me he was in love with the sandwiches made on this bread from a small shop on the island. He was the first person I met with the same passion for this bread that many people feel toward rustic and wild-yeast breads of the artisan movement. When I began teaching at Johnson & Wales University, I found that each of my classes included at least one student who shared my friend’s passion for the sweet bread. Each of these students vows to improve upon the general formula, and this version is a result of the many tweakings the students who grew up with the real deal gave to the original version in an effort to make it conform to their childhood memories. The most distinctive aspect of this bread, besides the softness and the shape, is the flavor imparted by the powdered milk. I have tried making versions with whole milk and buttermilk, but once you get the taste of the powdered-milk version in your mind, no other taste will do.

This is one of the breakthrough breads that taught me the value of combining large portions of pre-ferment with overnight cold fermentation. Semolina is the gritty, sandy flour milled from durum wheat. (Durum is the strain of wheat most closely identified with pasta.) It is a hard, high-protein wheat, but it is not high in gluten. The golden color is mainly due to a high proportion of beta-carotene, which contributes both aroma and flavor as well as the appealing hue. You may substitute a finer grind of this flour, called fancy durum (sometimes labeled “extra fancy durum”). When it is labeled “fancy durum,” the flour is milled to the consistency of regular bread flour. This is the grind used in pasta and also used in the 100 percent durum bread called pugliese (page 222). This version of pane siciliano consists of 40 percent semolina flour and 60 percent high-gluten or bread flour. The finished loaf has a beautiful blistered crust, not too crackly, and a crumb with large, irregular holes, open to the same degree as good French or Italian bread. The sweetness and nutty quality of the semolina, and the complementary flavor of the sesame-seed garnish make this one of my absolute favorite breads.

This is the perfect dough for creative shaping, and the one used throughout France for many types of breads sold under various local names. The dough is similar to regular French baguette dough, but it includes a small percentage of whole grain, either whole wheat, pumpernickel-grind or white rye, or cornmeal. This additional grain gives the bread more character and grain flavor, and contributes to the brownish-gold, country-style crust that distinguishes it from white flour French bread. Most important, this is the dough, as I learned it from Professor Raymond Calvel, that opened my thinking to the use of large percentages of pre-ferment. On pages 72–79 you will see a number of shapes you can make from this dough. The most famous are the fendu, épi, couronne, and auvergnat. There are many others that you may also have seen. As always, though, the first emphasis must be on the quality of the dough. There is nothing more disappointing to a bread lover than to see a lot of work go into a shaping technique for a dough that does not deliver world-class flavor and texture. This particular dough never disappoints.

The technique by which this bread is made has tremendous implications for the baking industry and for both professional and home bakers. The unique delayed-fermentation method, which depends on ice-cold water, releases flavors trapped in flour in a way different from the more traditional twelve-stage method. The final product has a natural sweetness and nutlike character that is distinct from breads made with exactly the same ingredients but fermented by the standard method, even with large percentages of pre-ferment. Also, because the dough is as wet as rustic ciabatta-style dough, it can be used in many ways, from baguettes, as Philippe Gosselin does in Paris, to ciabatta, pugliese, stirato, pain rustique, and even pizza and focaccia. This bread shows us another way to manipulate time, and thus outcomes, by manipulating temperature. The cold mixing and fermentation cycles delay the activation of the yeast until after the amylase enzymes have begun their work of breaking out sugar from the starch. When the dough is brought to room temperature and the yeast wakes up and begins feasting, it feeds on sugars that weren’t there the day before. Because the yeast has converted less of the released sugar to alcohol and carbon dioxide, a reserve of sugar remains in the fermented dough to flavor it and caramelize the crust during the baking cycle. While this delayed-fermentation method doesn’t work for every dough (especially those that are enriched with sugar and other flavor-infusing ingredients), used appropriately, it evokes the fullness of flavor from the wheat beyond any other fermentation method I’ve encountered. As a bonus, and despite all the intimidating science, this is actually one of the easiest doughs in this book to make. Without question this is the dough that has gotten the most recent attention from my students at Johnson & Wales, The California Culinary Academy, and around the country in my daylong workshops for home bakers. It is not just the flavor of the bread that excites them, although without it the concept would be interesting but moot. It is the idea of pressing into new frontiers of bread making, of realizing that there are still areas of exploration not charted by even the professional community. We are learning that as we deconstruct the bread-baking process, we are still in the early discovery stage of what is possible. As in any facet of life, this is an exciting place to find oneself, like standing at the end of the world, facing the words, as so often showed up on ancient maps, “Unknown Kingdoms Be Here.”

I am always exploring the multigrain genre in a never-ending quest for better and better ways to deliver nutritious bread in a delicious package. Adapting some of the advanced concepts we’ve discussed, such as the soaker technique, to activate enzymes and break out natural sugars seems a natural progression. This is a variation of perhaps my best-known bread, struan, whose flavor in the original version I thought impossible to top. This version preserves that flavor and opens up possibilities for grain variations not possible with the direct-dough technique of the original struan, as described in Brother Juniper’s Bread Book and Bread Upon the Waters. Substituting, for instance, millet, quinoa, amaranth, or buckwheat for the corn or oats (or simply adding them to the blend) can be accomplished with the soaker method without pre-cooking those grains. I say this with the confidence born of hundreds of customer testimonials: this bread and its variations make the best toast in the world. Because it is sweetened with both honey and brown sugar, it caramelizes quickly, both while baking and especially when toasting. The many grains hold moisture so that, while the slices crisp up when toasted, they also retain a moist sweetness. The flavors marry extremely well with mayonnaise-based sandwich fillings, such as egg salad, tuna salad, chicken salad, and BLTs. I nearly always top the loaves with poppy seeds because they add a complementary appearance and taste and look more attractive than, say, sesame seeds. The dough can be formed into rolls and freestanding loaves for specific applications, but I believe that the most perfect use of this bread is either for sandwiches or toast (or even better, toasted sandwiches).

Here, whole-wheat flour accounts for 33 percent of the total flour, which is the most popular formula for making light wheat bread. The result is a loaf similar to the soft wheat breads purchased off the shelves. Of course, this is a poor compromise for whole-grain purists, which is why I am also including a bread formula with 100 percent whole wheat (page 270).. But there are times when you just want a tasty, soft, but not altogether white sandwich bread, and this versatile loaf fits the bill.

Either of these two formulas will make a delicious rye bread, light or dark. But combined, you can weave them together to make the fabled marbled rye of childhood memories and Seinfeld fame. These are made by the direct-dough method, as opposed to the sourdough method preferred for onion rye and deli rye. But the ease of making these breads, their soft texture, and their flexibility for braiding and blending make them a favorite of my students.

In America, the term Italian bread has come to mean a loaf very similar to French bread, only usually a little softer. This has very little to do with reality, however, since scores of authentic Italian breads exist. What made the old-time Italian bakeries that were once a part of many American towns and cities special was that the bread was baked fresh daily and bought right at the shop. Today, even with the current bread revolution, much of the bread produced does not stand up to the those old Italian loaves, despite the love, care, and wonderful wood- or coal-fired ovens that we may associate with many contemporary bakeries. This is because many bakeries, smitten with innovative modern ingredients that accelerate fermentation in order to save time and increase profits, have reverted to fast-rising methods that leave much of the potential flavor and color trapped in the starches. The Italian biga pre-ferment method is a step in the direction of improving these breads, much as pâte fermentée and poolish does for French bread. The following formula pushes the biga method to its limits, and the result is an Italian bread as good as or better than any I’ve had in recent years. The use of a large amount of biga insures maximum sugar breakout from starches, evoking a sweetness that is far beyond the small amount of sugar in the formula. The finished bread will be slightly softer than French bread and less crusty.

These are sometimes called by different names, such as New York hard rolls, bulkies, or even Vienna rolls. But the distinguishing characteristic of a kaiser roll is the star pattern on the top and a thin, slightly crisp crust that yields to the first bite and crumbles deliciously in the mouth around whatever sandwich filling it holds. Most bakeshops make them using a direct-dough method and knock them out by the thousands. This version, again pushing the limits of our newfound understanding of fermentation and enzyme activity, utilizes old dough, pâte fermentée, to improve flavor, texture, and color, making the resulting rolls significantly better than their commercial counterparts. While strangers will be complaining that they can’t find a good old-fashioned New York hard roll, you will be spoiling your friends and family with these bulkies.

These are fun to make, especially with kids. Instead of baking the bread in the oven, the muffins are baked in a skillet or on a griddle. If you want to get the big holes that the professionals get, you will need to work with a soft, but not sticky, dough and bake or grill the muffins at just the right time, catching them on the rise. The dough, a fairly straightforward enriched dough, can also be used to make English muffin loaf bread, a holey white bread that kids—well, not just kids—love.

Challah, the braided Sabbath bread of Judaism, is a European celebratory loaf symbolic of God’s goodness and bounty. The braids traditionally separate the loaf into twelve distinct sections representing the twelve tribes of Israel. The use of eggs in the bread was probably a way to use up excess eggs before the strict Judaic Sabbath day of rest made it impossible to harvest the new eggs, as harvesting is one of many activities considered work in Orthodox Jewish communities. I’ve made challah many different ways, but this is a great formula that produces a soft golden loaf, radiant when brought to the table. The key to a beautiful challah, one that stops conversation and holds everyone’s attention, is to braid it so that it is tapered at the ends and plump in the middle.

Brioche is the standard by which all rich breads are judged. In fact, whenever rich breads are described, they are often compared to brioche or called a relative. Brioche is actually simple in character: it is enriched with a small amount of sugar, substantial amounts of egg, and lots of butter—at least in excess of 20 percent (butter to flour ratio) but usually 50 percent or higher. I have rarely seen brioche made commercially with more than 75 percent butter, but I have seen formulas that call for up to 100 percent. There are countless formula variations. Some are made with sponges or other pre-ferments, some by the direct-dough method. Some versions are immediately fermented and then shaped and baked, while some require overnight chilling. The anecdotal history of this bread includes allusions to Queen Marie Antoinette, whose last words are reputed to be properly translated as “Let them eat brioche,” and not “Let them eat cake.” There are a lot of reasons to assume that either translation is more myth than fact, but it does beg the question, why would anyone even think to make such a statement? This may be because brioche had two distinct expressions in pre-Revolution France. One version, for the wealthy and thus called rich man’s brioche, was loaded with butter (70 percent or more). The other, made for the huddled masses and therefore called poor man’s brioche, was butter challenged (20 to 25 percent). As so often happens with bread, it makes a perfect symbol for many things, not the least of which is the class struggle between the haves and the have-nots. So, it would make sense that if the queen was about to lose her head because the revolutionaries were, for the most part, have-nots, why not offer them rich man’s brioche. “Yeah, we can do that, sure.” But, alas, it was too late, too futile, and probably too arrogant a gesture. When we examine the formula for rich man’s brioche, one thing becomes evident: it has almost the same flour to fat to sugar ratio as pie dough. The main difference is the yeast and eggs. Most pie dough, whether pâte brisée (plain) or pâte sucrée (sweet), and whether flaky or mealy, is made by some variation of what is known as the 1-2-3 method. This means 3 parts flour, 2 parts fat, and 1 part water (and also, in sweet or sucrée pie dough, sugar). The ratio translates as 66.6 percent fat to 100 percent flour. Brioche, rich man’s brioche at least, has between 50 and 80 percent butter, right in the pie-dough range. This means that brioche can, in principle, be used to make a very nice tender pie or tart dough, which is often done in French pâtisseries. It is a wonderful alternative to the flaky or mealy pie dough under quiche or other custard tarts, as I have witnessed in the clafouti sold in the pastry shop of Paris’s Ritz Hotel. Apparently, they make hundreds of these tartlets everyday for their guests and can barely keep up with the demand. Other applications of brioche include loaf breads for the definitive French toast, tea and café rolls, wraps for meat- or vegetable-filled molds, and, most famously, small fluted rolls with “heads” (petites brioches à tête). Beyond that, there are the infinite regional and holiday expressions of the bread, from the Italian pandoro and panettone, to the kugelhopf of Alsace, stollen of Germany and Switzerland, and the amazing meat- and- cheese-filled Italian version called casatiello. The following versions of brioche give you three options, depending on the amount of butter you feel ready to tackle. In the spirit of Queen Marie, we will call them rich man’s, middleclass, and poor man’s brioche, all of which have valid applications in the bread canon.