Our basic “off-white” bread, our “French”-style bread, is the reason we’re here. (By which I mean here at the farmers’ market; as to why we’re here, like, on earth, I leave that question to abler minds.) We call it “off-white” because it contains a portion of whole wheat flour, which gives it a little extra heft, a bit more flavor and aroma, and its ecru tint. This is our daily bread.
It’s a yeasted bread, as opposed to a sourdough. It is leavened with active dry yeast. Sourdough bread also uses yeast, but a different, more temperamental sort of yeast grown in a sourdough culture. More on sourdough in a future missive.
In addition to the yeast and the whole wheat flour, the other ingredients are unbleached white flour (also a wheat flour, of course), salt, water, and wheat gluten. Gluten is the protein part of flour, the other part being starch, to oversimplify somewhat. When you “knead the dough until smooth and elastic,” as so many bread recipes instruct, you are “developing the gluten,” which allows the dough to hold its shape instead of going floop all over the counter. As the yeast goes to work, that gluten structure will make pockets that trap the gasses the yeast produces, and so the dough will rise. Bread flour is milled from hard wheat, and requires no added gluten. We prefer the flavor of all-purpose flour, which is made from a blend of hard and softer wheats, so we add gluten to give our dough elasticity. Just in case you wondered.
It has taken me over fifteen years to learn how to make this bread, and if that makes you think that I’m a pretty slow study, you probably have a point. But as with every aspect of bread-making, a baker’s education can’t be hurried. Bread dough is a living thing, affected by elements largely beyond our control—temperature, humidity, the phase of the moon, for all I know. Our bread, truly homemade, baked in our Princeton Avenue kitchen is particularly subject to nature’s vicissitudes. That means it will never be exactly the same, week to week. We’ll try to provide a fairly consistent product, and hope that you’ll find our inconsistencies charming.
Our off-white bread comes in two basic shapes: long and skinny (baguettes and épis), and short and fat (rounds and ovals). Epi comes from the French word for a head of wheat. It’s a baguette that looks likes a bunch of pointy dinner rolls glued in a line. The rounds and ovals are obviously the choice for sandwiches, and for toast. Since our bread is moister and denser than most, you’ll probably want to slice it fairly thin, and when toasting, you’ll probably have to push it down twice.
While I’m su re no one really needs instruction on how to eat a baguette, here is one use that we like particularly:
Tartine is the French word for bread and butter (leave it to the French…). Here’s how you make it. Really, pay attention: I’m going to tell you how to make bread and butter.
Breakfast Tartine serves two
1 Real Bread baguette
Butter
The baguette must be fresh, the crust must be crunchy. If your baguette is day-old, or has been frozen, place it directly on the rack in a preheated 375° oven for six minutes if thawed, ten minutes if frozen. Remove it from the oven and let it cool for at least five minutes. This is not just to save you from burning your hand, but because the inside will be gummy if not allowed to rest.
With a bread knife, slice the baguette the long way, across the middle, as if you’re cutting open a giant hot dog bun. Cut all the way through, so you now have separated the top from the bottom.
Spread both pieces liberally with good butter (we prefer unsalted Hope Creamery butter). Cut the pieces in half the short way, so each person gets half the top and half the bottom.
You may add honey or jam if you like. If you like radishes, try the French breakfast treat of a tartine along with mild radishes which you dab with butter and then dip lightly in sea salt. Add a chunk of cheese, a piece of ripe fruit. Your day will be off to a happy start.