I don’t make this bread with sour dough starter or special yeast from bakery suppliers.
It doesn’t require high-gluten bread flour.
I don’t measure the loaf’s internal temperature midway into baking.
I don’t proof the dough—heck, I don’t even knead it.
And when it comes out of the oven, sending wafts of hot, honeyed air into my flushed, eager nostrils, I don’t wait until the loaf cools then analyze its air bubbles and “crumb.”
I leave baking analytics to my son, the breadie. In addition to being smart, handsome and athletic—that’s him, below—Noel is a bread fanatic.
When he comes home from college, he brings his baking stone with him: He boards the packed Philadelphia-to-New York Chinatown bus cradling the 20-pound, 15″ X 20″ Fibrament slab like a baby.
(Thankfully he won’t read this post—he’s busy with finals.)
On home visits I know we’ll eat our fill of hard crusted, perfectly crumbed bread. And it’ll taste as good as bread from an Italian or French bakery on Arthur Avenue or in Manhattan.
This is not that.
Honey Oat Bread Machine Bread is…not artisanal. It takes less than a minute to throw all the ingredients into a bread machine.
If you’ve read my previous bread posts, you know that I—normally gadget-averse—make exception for my bread machine.
The masterful mechanical device mixes, kneads, proofs and rises the dough while I work or read the paper.
I shape the loaf, plop it in a warm place to rise, then slide it into the oven.
As soon as it’s baked I invert it from the pan. I don’t wait for it to cool. While it’s still steamy and soft, I take a sharp serrated knife and cut off the heel—the hardest and most cut-able part of the loaf at that point.
Then I spread thin sheets of chilled sweet butter on the heel and stuff it into my greedy little mouth.
With the baker’s tax taken, I let the loaf cool slightly before serving it warm with butter, apricot jam and a large cup of Harney’s Paris tea. Or with with soups, stews or egg dishes.
Honey Oat Bread Machine Bread would be delicious toasted—if you have any of the loaf leftover. We never have.
Even though Noel will never bake a loaf like this—bread machines are anathema to The Village Baker set—he admits he enjoys eating it.
Not-Artisanal Honey Oat Bread Machine Bread Recipe
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup oat bran
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached white flour
2 tablespoons safflower or other mild oil
2 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons yeast
1 1/2 cups water
- Dump all ingredients into bread machine pan.
- Select “knead only” setting. Go do something else for 90 minutes—or for however long your “knead only” cycle lasts.
- When timer goes off, grease a bread pan and set oven to 350 degrees.
- Remove dough from bread machine, flour hands lightly, knead dough for a minute or so and shape into a loaf. Hint: The less flour you add as you knead, the better the bread’s texture. If dough is sticky, try using a dough scarper or spatula to scoop and turn dough as you knead.
- Place loaf in greased pan and put pan in a warm, draft-free place to rise—about 20-30 minutes.
- When loaf is about double in volume—it probably won’t actually double because of all the dense whole grains—slide pan into oven.
- Bake for 20-30 minutes until top is golden and the loaf sounds hollow when you thump it with your finger.
- Remove from oven, let cool for a few minutes, run knife around pan and invert loaf onto a cooling rack. The truly disciplined will wait for the loaf to cool slightly before cutting. Or you can do what I do.
Serves 8.
Isaac says
Oh I do love when the praises of non-snobby food are sung.