My adventure through the world of home baking continues with this weirdo loaf, featuring toasted rye flour and the juice from a jar of pickles. The recipe is from Dan Lepard’s The Art of Handmade Bread, which is an excellent intro to the great breads of Europe and also holds in its pages the recipe for a milk loaf that makes the best toast ever.
The loaves were smaller, had a denser crumb, and rose less than I was expecting. I blame my suspect kneading skills. I’m not really a pickled cucumber person, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the end product, while it definitely smelled like pickle juice, had just a faint sour taste along with the rye.
We always leave the butter dish out. It never lasts long in this house, so there’s no real danger of spoilage – except in summer when the sun can melt it in the dish. And the butter is always super soft and ready to spread onto a freshly baked good.
K is still fixing up his parents’ bathroom, so N had to be the sole taste tester. I found him hard at work on a chest of drawers we picked up last week.
This is not a guy who is picky about food. This is a guy with the metabolism of a hummingbird, who’s the main reason why we go through butter so quickly, who will eat anything edible if he’s desperate. Even so, he gave a pretty convincing endorsement of the bread. My verdict: it’s good, but probably not my ultimate in rye potential. It would probably be better if my bread skills were better, and I might make it again if there’s pickle juice hanging around.
After the sampling was over, we visited my favorite chest.
If I had a house, this thing would be all mine. I hope it goes to a good home. Look at the grain!
“Grrraaaaaiiiins” – zombie who just read my post about bread and furniture