Flour

I first introduced the concept of cold-fermented wet dough in The Bread Baker’s Apprentice. While the idea isn’t new or original, it has blossomed during the past few years into various no-knead, overnight-rise permutations. I now prefer the version in this recipe because it gives the best flavor and also provides the most flexibility for scheduling. The refrigerator provides a 4-day window of baking opportunity, and that’s hard to beat. The beauty of this dough, as others have discovered, is that it can be used in so many ways: for focaccia, ciabatta, mini baguettes, and more. (Because the method for shaping this dough into focaccia is substantially different, it appears as a separate recipe on page 57.) And even though it’s the most hydrated dough in this book, it requires only minimal mixing to achieve the same gluten strength as bakeries obtain by mixing continuously for 20 minutes, due to the stretch and fold technique.

Because the methods in this book balance time, temperature, and ingredients, you don’t need an array of pre-ferments to accomplish full development of the flavor and texture of the bread. Time does most of the work through slow, cold overnight fermentation. This formula differs from similar approaches in other recent books by using less yeast, giving the bread better flavor and caramelization, or coloring, of the crust. The dough will keep in the refrigerator for up to a week, but after about 4 days the quality starts to decline. If you want to make a full-size batch and save some of the unbaked dough for longer than a week, place the dough in one or more lightly oiled freezer bags after the initial overnight fermentation, seal tightly, and freeze. To thaw, place the bag of dough in the refrigerator the day before you need it so that it can thaw slowly, without overfermenting. This dough also makes excellent pizza crust (see pages 67 to 73 for other variations and page 24 for shaping instructions).

This version of French bread is the simplest formula in the book. It uses the cold fermentation technique, and the resulting dough actually holds the shape and cuts of conventional French baguettes, bâtards, and boules better than the lean dough (page 46), which is wetter. Because the dough isn’t as wet, it’s especially important to handle it with a firm but light touch. Too much pressure will squeeze out the gas trapped during the overnight rise, resulting in small, even holes rather than the prized large, irregular holes. I’ve also included a variation that makes spectacular loaves with a distinctive blistered crust.

My contribution to my family’s Thanksgiving meal has always been cornbread. In making it so many times, I discovered that it’s a great vehicle for fruit, cooked grains, or vegetables. This variation has a thick batter, so these are more like biscuits than bread. Pale orange and scarlet-flecked, these biscuits make a beautiful addition to a holiday table.

Orange zest gives these crispy snaps a hint of citrus. Barley malt syrup (for more about this sweetener, see page 68) stands in for the traditional molasses, and tastes virtually identical. If the maple sugar is clumpy, break it up with your fingers before creaming it with the butter. To make gingerbread people, roll the dough to just over 1/4 inch thick and press in raisins or other toppings to decorate the cookies.

Buckwheat adds a delicious sour note to crepes and breads. As a crop, buckwheat gives a boost to the environment because it suppresses weed growth and provides nectar for honeybees. It requires little to no chemical fertilization and actually adds nutrients to the depleted soil on which it’s grown. I like to fold these savory whole-grain breakfast crepes in half, but they can also be filled and rolled like sushi. For a spicier version of this dish, add red pepper flakes.

This soba gnocchi is one of the most popular dishes at my Chicago restaurant, Takashi. My customers love it and often ask me how to prepare it at home. Well, here’s the answer! The recipe is a little challenging, but I guarantee you it will more than impress the guests at your next dinner party. You can prepare the gnocchi in advance, and even freeze it (be sure to coat the gnocchi with vegetable oil before refrigerating or freezing). You can also prepare the celery root sauce ahead of time. And like the gnocchi, you can freeze it, too.

My brother-in-law and I have a long-standing ritual whenever I visit my family in Japan: he welcomes me home with a plate of his own freshly made soba noodles. I can’t think of a more gracious—and delicious—greeting. I love the bright buckwheat flavor and irresistible nutty, sweet aroma of fresh soba, a sensation you simply can’t fully experience with dry noodles or fresh-frozen. This recipe is a bit challenging, true, but worth it. A few notes: First, professional soba makers use a “soba kiri” to cut the noodles, an expensive, specialized blade 12 inches long and 6 inches wide. But at home, a large kitchen knife works perfectly. Second, cooks in Japan traditionally use a lightweight wooden box as a guide for cutting soba, but anything lightweight with a straight edge will work fine, even a plastic ice cube tray. And finally, but most important: cut noodles should be cooked and served immediately. You can freeze any unrolled dough, well wrapped, for up to a month, or store fresh dough in the refrigerator for a few days.

Meme called this “lemon cheese cake,” which is somewhat confusing since people more often use that name for a New York–style cheesecake. This is one of the recipes that “got away.” Meme often recorded a recipe on a card or on the previously mentioned interior of her cabinets. Trouble is, she only wrote down the ingredients and rarely included instructions. She used to actually cover her version of the cake in lemon curd. Normally, lemon curd is soft and not firm enough to frost a cake. I have tried to make the curd with her ingredients list every way but Sunday with no success. I’m afraid now I will never know. Instead, I fill between the layers with curd and flavor the frosting with it as well. The cake itself is an excellent rich, moist, cake that would also be delicious with chocolate frosting or served with strawberries and cream.

It is necessary to sift the flour before measuring it for this cake. This is an anomaly; if flour is sifted at all these days (not that common anymore), most baking recipes call for sifting after it is measured. Here, the flour is sifted once before measuring, then an additional four times with the sugar to prepare this batter. It may seem like overkill, but it is completely necessary to achieve the traditional light-as-air texture of angel food cake. There is an unusual implement for cutting these delicate cakes found in many silver chests throughout the South. These old-fashioned rakelike cutters typically have a long, slightly offset handle with 3- to 4-inch-long tines that actually split, rather than cut, the cake. They can still be found online and in gourmet catalogs.

Whole wheat flour may seem to be the choice of health nuts or diet-conscious shoppers looking for whole grains, neither of which suggests typical Southern bread. This is true for more modern breads, but Antebellum and Colonial grains were not as processed as modern flour is and were closer to what we now consider whole wheat flour. This homey bread also uses honey, a natural sweetener, instead of refined white sugar. I do, however, suggest using a modern fat, canola oil, over bacon fat (but now that I think of it, bacon fat sure sounds good!).

What impresses me the most about all the types of cornbread is how quickly they can be brought to the table. Warm bread for supper makes everything taste better. My version of pantry cooking is to pull a bag of butter beans or black-eyed peas frozen last summer out of the freezer and cook a pot of rice. While the rice is cooking, I can throw together a batch of corn muffins. It’s a simple, quick supper ready in less than thirty minutes. The fallacy that you need to open a can or use a mix is just that—a lie. I find that shortcuts and prepared products actually do not often make things easier, and usually take as long as doing things “right” in the first place.

Cornbread was for many years the basic bread of the rural South, the very poor South. I mentioned earlier that cornbread and barbecue are close to being religion in the South. But, for years, cornbread was the primitive Baptist to the Episcopalian biscuit, the all-night tent revival to the ladies’ prayer luncheon. Cornmeal griddle cakes are the most basic of Southern breads. Biscuits require expensive dairy products, while cornmeal griddle cakes, also known as hoe cakes, can be made with little more than meal, a bit of oil, and water. The batter should be quite soupy, but not watery. When the batter hits the hot oil the edges sizzle and become very crisp. For best results, be sure to cook the cakes until the edges are a deep, rich, golden brown. Meme always served them as a very quick bread on the side. They are especially delicious when used to sop up juices and gravy.

Cornmeal gives this bread a subtle crispy crunch. For the best results, use the best-quality extra-virgin olive oil possible. If you really want to “gild the lily,” top the warm bread with a few curls of freshly shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

A fish fry would not be complete without hushpuppies, yet another dish Southerners prepare with corn. Meme always added grated onion to the meal leftover from frying the fish, and then added an egg and enough buttermilk until the consistency looked about right. My late father-in-law used to host fish fries, cooking up what they’d caught over the weekend at Lake Lanier. Now, I never actually had one of his hushpuppies, but I’ve spent fifteen years trying to replicate one, based on what his family describes. He used beer instead of buttermilk and, it seems, lots of onion. It doesn’t matter how much onion I add, there’s never enough onion. I have a sneaking suspicion that a special food memory created on a sunny summer afternoon has bypassed reality and it’s actually not about the onion. No worries, I’ll keep trying. There are impossible quests that produce far worse results.

One of my favorite possessions is my grandmother’s cast-iron skillet. It’s more precious to me than the antique bone china that I also inherited. To think of all the fried chicken and cornbread it has held is amazing. Several years ago, I returned home to Georgia after living in New York City, and I carried my treasured skillet in a blanket on my lap practically the whole trip. It is almost like my sacred talisman. No one will dare touch it when we are cleaning up from dinner. If I leave the room, I return to a spotless kitchen with a dirty cast-iron skillet on the stovetop. No one wants the responsibility. It sounds severe, but a little fear is fine with me. When properly seasoned over time, cast iron develops a virtually nonstick surface that only improves with use. To clean cast-iron cookware, wash with a nonabrasive sponge and warm soapy water. Rinse it well. To prevent rust, make sure the piece is completely dry before you store it. As insurance, I usually place mine in a warm oven for a little while to fully dry out. Cast iron is great for baking cornbread, pan-frying, and sauteing. It is a little slow to heat up, but once it does, it heats evenly and stays hotter longer. Cast iron is inexpensive and can be found at hardware and cookware stores.

I could make a meal out of just buttered cornbread. Except perhaps for barbecue, cornbread is as close to religion in the South as any particular food gets. At the top of the list of cornbread sins is adding sugar. You will notice a complete lack of sugar in this cornbread recipe. Sugar is more often found in what is referred to derisively as “Yankee cornbread.” Adherents of white versus yellow cornmeal are like Methodists and Baptists: some think you’re going to hell if you follow one path and not the other. I am of the white cornmeal sect. The theory is that white corn was less hybridized and closer to the original grain than yellow. Plain white cornmeal can be surprisingly tricky to find, even in Atlanta; most of what lines the grocery store shelves is a mix or self-rising, which already contains the leavener that makes the cornmeal rise. Although yellow and white cornmeal are interchangeable, plain and self-rising cornmeal are not. Warming the skillet and bacon grease or butter in the oven prepares the skillet for baking and melts the fat. Most often, I use butter. I like to let it get just barely nutty brown on the edges. The brown flecks give the cornbread extra color and flavor.

Meme most often made rolled biscuits. For large biscuits, she had a special aluminum cutter with a small wooden handle that fit in the palm of her hand. She cut out small biscuits with an empty apple juice can open at both ends. Some purists use lard instead of butter. Although I like biscuits made with lard and understand the tradition and history, Meme and Mama had started using butter by the time I was born. The perfect biscuit should be golden brown and slightly crisp on the outside, with a light, airy interior. For a flaky, tender biscuit, don’t overwork the dough: gently combine the ingredients until just blended. A very hot oven is essential. The steam interacts with the baking powder to create the biscuit’s ideal textures inside and out.

Dede always grew okra, and I usually have a few plants every summer. Once, I grew them in container boxes on the roof of my apartment in New Jersey, framed by the Manhattan skyline. Guests were astonished at the sight when we would go out on the deck. The plants are beautiful, sometimes growing to five feet tall with pale yellow blossoms similar to hibiscus. When I was working in France for Anne Willan, we once needed okra for a recipe test. It was nowhere to be found in the local markets, so we ordered a case from Rungis, the French wholesale market on the outskirts of Paris, only to use less than a pound! The gumbo was a disappointment, falling short of Anne’s strict standards. Since we had almost a full case to use, I made this fried okra, which Anne called “popcorn fried okra.” It was a huge hit. I can pretty much guarantee that this was the only time in history fried okra was enjoyed as a snack with apéritifs before dinner. I called Meme every week to tell her about my work and what I had learned. When I told her about the “popcorn fried okra,” she giggled like a schoolgirl.

My mother-in-law is a wonderful woman, very sweet, kind, and generous. Her late husband was the cook in the family, and even she admits she is not much of a cook. She experienced a little culinary serendipity when sauteing okra one night. She put a little too much oil in the pan, so she added a bit of cornmeal to soak up the excess oil. It was wonderful, a modified version of fried okra that is not only somewhat healthier than deep-fried okra, but also less labor-intensive. Maybe she is just bluffing about not being a cook, after all.