Whole Wheat Bread

I decided to make bread. It's the season for baking, and I'm getting tired of so much sugar. Candy, cookies, cakes, pies, brownies, eggnog... it's all getting me down. I don't like to be down. So I got some dehydrated fungus and made a bread out of it. Please, go make some more. It's not difficult, and you don't need any fancy equipment.

Just an oven, really.


WHOLE WHEAT BREAD

2 1/3 cups warm water (110°F is ideal, but anywhere between 105° and 115° is fine)
1/4 cup honey
2 packets (1 1/2 tbsp) active dry yeast
3 tbsp shortening
1 tbsp blackstrap molasses
3 cups whole wheat flour
3 1/2 cups bread flour
1 tbsp sea salt

1. Dissolve the honey thoroughly in the warm water. Whisking does this pretty effectively. It will take longer with old honey that has crystallized some. Yeast loves to eat sugar, but will get overwhelmed if there are huge bits of undissolved sugar, so it's best to take care of that before the yeast enters the pool. When the honey is dissolved, whisk in the yeast.

The yeast should mainly fall flat to the bottom of the container. Let it sit for a few minutes (five or so should do it) to allow the yeast to wake up. You'll know it when it does.

2. While you wait for the yeast, melt the shortening with the molasses until it's just barely melted (you don't want it too hot because you'll be adding it to the yeast; you want happy yeast, not dead-from-burning yeast).



It should be done melting about the same time the yeast is done blooming. It should look pretty foamy on top of the water.



3. Whisk the shortening/molasses into the yeast water really well. In a separate bowl, mix together both kinds of flour and the salt really thoroughly. Add about 3 cups of the flour mixture to the yeast mixture and mix it until there is naught but smoothness. I tried doing it with a spatula but had to revert back to a whisk. It should look like batter and smell kind of good.



4. Now you can add the rest of the flour. Mix it in a bowl, either with a wooden spoon or your hands, until you get a big craggy-looking ball of dough and all the flour is mixed in.



5. Dump it onto a countertop that has been thoroughly sanitized since the last time the cat was up on it, and start to knead. Push, fold, turn. Over and over and over, constantly moving and working the dough for five minutes. It should look considerably smoother afterward.



Take a brief rest; wash your hands if you want, drink some water. Then get back to kneading and do it for five more minutes. It should look smoother still, but the difference this time will be much more subtle. You are now done kneading the dough.



(By the way, during the early stages of my time kneading the dough I thought about how much easier it would be with a KitchenAid stand mixer fitted with a dough hook. I could just watch it spin and knead and not cramp my fingers. But then I considered the fact that people making bread in the Middle Ages didn't have a KitchenAid stand mixer at all, not even one that was not fitted with a dough hook. This made me feel delightfully smug that I was kneading dough the right way. The original way. But it occurred to me furthermore that people in the Middle Ages also didn't have an electric oven to bake their bread, or an electric stove to melt their shortening and warm their water, and still they baked bread. So then I felt as though I need to make my own oven and power it by fire if I want to really make bread right, and melt my shortening in a hand-forged pewter mug over the firepit. My common sense told me, however, that I was unlikely to fashion myself a firepit or fire-powered oven in the near future, and would then probably just buy bread at the store if I was to refuse making it altogether if I had to utilize the help of electricity. It hit me, then. I was finished kneading and I had reached the conclusion that I, much like the bread-bakers of the Middle Ages, was simply using the best tools I had at my disposal. No shame; no wrong. But if you have a KitchenAid stand mixer fitted with a dough hook, or something, you can probably just use that.)

6. Put some water on the stove to boil, and place a rimmed baking sheet in a cold oven. Oil a very large bowl and place the dough ball in it. Roll the dough around to coat it all over with oil, so it doesn't stick to anything when it expands.



Then dust a clean kitchen cloth with flour.



Place it over the bowl, flour-side down. Then it won't stick. Pour the boiling water into the baking pan in the cold oven, and then place the bowl with the dough on a higher shelf in the oven and close it up. Leave the oven off (should be warm and steamy in there, though). This will be the first rise; it will last about an hour and a half.

7. Take the dough out of the oven after about an hour and a half. It should be doubled in size from the yeast eating sugar and farting all over and stretching out the gluten with its gaseousness.



8. Deflate the dough and divide it into two very equal clumps. This is best done with a sharp knife, so you don't tear the dough too much. Pat out one at a time into a relatively even rectangle (about 9"x12").



Roll it up so that the roll is 9" long, and pinch the seam closed. Plump it up so it's relatively the same width all over, like so:



Do the same with the second blob of dough.

9. Place the rolls seam-side down, each in a thoroughly greased 9"x5" (or similar size) metal baking pan and press them out a little so they touch all four sides.



Cover again with the floured towel. But don't keep them in the oven this time, because you'll need to preheat it (also, take out the rimmed baking sheet with water in it. You won't need it again).

10. Preheat the oven to 400°F, while you let the dough rise in the pans for another 45 minutes or so. Your time may vary, but when they're done, the sides should just barely be clearing the top of the pan.



11. Stick the pans in the oven, carefully so you don't deflate the dough, right next to each other. Bake them for 35 minutes. If you have an instant-read thermometer, check one of the loaves before taking them out (should be between 200°F and 205°F). But if you don't, and they look done, they probably are.



12. Unmold immediately and place them on a cooling rack. If you don't, they'll get soggy; yuck! Mine didn't get soggy. Look how pretty they are.



You're really supposed to wait until they're cool before slicing, but I didn't, and nothing terrible happened. The inside was all steamy and the butter I put on it melted right up and it was pretty heavenly, to tell you the truth. Look how perfect the inside is. My bread is awesome.

Unless you're going to eat the bread within three days, it needs to be kept somehow. Dried as croutons, frozen, or *gasp* in the refrigerator. Not ideal, but trust me when I tell you that it will mold quickly. It lacks the calcium propionate of Wonder Bread to prevent timely spoilage. I don't think they had that in the Middle Ages, either.