Mission Accomplished

The weather here has suddenly turned cold and wintery, and I, in turn, have started cooking as if my life depended on it. In the last week I've made roasted corn salad, corn bread, and brownies in mass quantities, all now stocked away in my freezer. Except for the corn salad. That only lasted a couple days in the fridge before I devoured it. (And don't worry, there are recipes to come!)

After cooking an enormous pot of soup yesterday, I decided that I urgently needed Russian black bread to go with it. I managed to find a recipe on an ancient gluten-free message board, and off I went to the kitchen. I was a little nervous as I put it in the oven, because after the addition of several dough-additives that I haven't experimented with before, the raw dough was feeling a bit rubbery.

Turns out that was a good thing.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have a loaf of gluten-free bread that my flat mates, my friends, and even my impossible-to-feed younger brother would happily scarf down. And I'm not sharing.

After waiting impatiently for the dough to finish rising and baking, I pulled this beautiful, rustic bread out of the oven and tapped the bottom as instructed. It sounded hollow. And the loaf had... spring! Elasticity, even. It didn't feel like a brick in my hands. It felt like a loaf of bread. And the crust was perfectly brown and pliable - it hadn't hardened into an impenetrable shell like I've grudgingly become accustomed to.

I managed to refrain from digging into it long enough to take some photos - which, as I waited impatiently for the camera battery to charge, was a lot longer than I would have liked. But it was worth the wait. I cut off a slice, and... well, first of all, it actually let itself be sliced. It didn't crumble in my hands. I had a perfectly-formed slice of lovely, soft, airy bread that looked and felt like actual bread. And when I bit into it - heaven. A soft velvety crumb with just the right chewiness. It reminded me of the homemade white bread I baked with my mom as a kid.

But the flavor was even better. The heady taste of caraway seeds, cocoa, and tiny morsels of orange peel exploded in my mouth - I've never had rye bread this good before. The orange peel makes this hands down my favorite recipe in a long time. I know the ingredients may not be things you have on hand - even if you're a regular gluten-free baker - but trust me, it's worth it to find them. And once you have them on hand, there will be enough left for several more delicious, fluffy loaves after you've polished this one off.

[Note: I should have been more clear about the extra dough additives - Sure-Jell, gelatin, and xantham gum are used to help improve the texture of gluten-free bread. Since gluten (the protein in wheat and some other flours) is very stretchy, it allows yeast breads to rise and gives them their distinct texture. Without any xanthan gum or other binding agent, gluten-free breads don't rise properly, and their texture is... not very good, to say the least.

If you can eat gluten, and want to try this recipe, just use three cups of normal bread flour in place of the flour/corn starch combination, and omit the gelatin, Sure-Jell, and xanthan gum.]




"I Can't Believe It's Not Gluten" Black Bread
Adapted from Mike Jones' recipe on enabling.org

If you add the gelatin with the dry ingredients, be sure it is designed to dissolve in cold water. If you have traditional gelatin, dissolve it in the warm milk with the liquid ingredients. You'll find Sure-Jell fruit pectin with other jelly-making supplies, most likely near the baking section.

Dry Ingredients:
1.5 C. white or brown rice flour
3/4 C. Buckwheat flour
3/4 C. corn starch
1 packet yeast
1 tsp. plain gelatin (cold-dissolving)
1 Tbs Sure-Jell (fruit pectin)
1Tbs xanthan gum or guar gum
1/2 tsp salt
2 Tbs sugar
1 Tbs unsweetened cocoa powder
1 Tbs corn meal
2-4 Tbs caraway seeds
1 tsp finely grated orange peel

Wet Ingredients:
1 C. milk, warmed to about 80°
1/2 C. strong coffee, 80° or room temperature
2 eggs, room temperature
2 Tbs olive oil
2 Tbs molasses


Turn the oven onto the lowest possible setting.
Grease a baking sheet lightly and sprinkle with cornmeal.

1. The dry ingredients:
Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl and mix thoroughly. The yeast can be mixed directly with the flour and dry ingredients - but if you think your yeast might be getting a bit old, proof it first and then add with the wet ingredients.

2. The wet ingredients:
In a medium bowl, warm the milk and coffee slightly (and make a mug for yourself, while you're at it!). Beat in the eggs, olive oil, and molasses.

3. Making the dough:
Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour the liquid. Stir until everything is completely combined and the dough is pulling cleanly away from the sides of the bowl. If you need a bit more liquid, add milk or coffee a teaspoon at a time. Don't do what I always do a free-pour directly into your dough. You don't want soggy bread dough, trust me.

4. Knead and rise
Knead the dough in the bowl for a few minutes to help mix everything thoroughly. This is a stiffer dough than many gluten-free blends, but it still won't knead like normal gluten dough, so don't worry about it. Turn the dough out onto the prepared baking sheet and shape into a rough loaf. Turn the slightly-warmed oven off and let the dough rise for about 90 minutes.

5. Baking the bread
When the dough is done rising, turn the oven temperature up to 350°, leaving the bread inside. Bake for 50 minutes, until the loaf sounds hollow when you tap the bottom. Remove the loaf immediately and let it cool on a wire rack. Continue Reading!

Crossing my Fingers...

You know a loaf of bread is going to be good when you can't stop licking the dough off your fingers. At least, you do when you're baking with normal flour. With gluten-free I'm never quite so sure. With traditional bread I could tell by the feel of the dough in my hands if it needed more flour; I could watch it grow smooth and glossy as I kneaded.

With gluten-free, I find myself often staring at a mysterious gob of Play-dough under my hands, wondering if it needs to be a more liquidy Play-dough, or a stiffer one. And more often than I'd like, I pull a loaf out of the oven to find it crumbly on the edges and too gummy in the middle. And the yeast... never seems to do anything. Without the gluten, there just isn't much there to hold the air bubbles in and make the bread rise like I want. It's more like a quick bread - think banana or cornbread, without the banana or corn.

Today, though, as I started up a big pot of soup, I decided I really, really wanted some Russian Black Bread. And so I started searching the wide realm of the internet for a gluten-free recipe. I found one on an ancient message board, posted back in 1996. It has several different dough additives that I haven't experimented with yet. Gelatin, for one. I've seen that in a few recipes before, but never tried any of them. And fruit pectin, for another. (That's the stuff that helps make jelly gel.) And a lot more xanthan gum than I would normally use. This bread is going to have Structure with a capital S.

I just finished mixing and kneading, and I've just popped it in the oven to let it rise. I'm a little nervous. It tastes great - bursting with caraway seeds and the rich flavors of coffee and cocoa powder. But it's a little rubbery. I have no idea what the texture will be like once it's bakes.

BUT! The dough behave more like gluten dough than anything I've tried before. It feels, for example, more elastic, and it pulls cleanly away from the bowl with a certain feel that is... well, I can't say it's anything but reminiscent of gluten dough. Really. I mean, sure, get your gluten-free dough dry enough, and it will also pull away from the sides of the bowl. But the texture just won't be the same, and don't kid yourself hoping for it.

So... updates to follow soon. Wish me luck. Continue Reading!

I Have Hope Again

Over Christmas, as I first started suspecting that my life-long allergies might be related to gluten, I tried my hand at a loaf of artisan-style gluten free bread. The recipe, from Gluten Free Girl, got rave reviews from her readers, and the photos were mouthwatering. I assumed that, with all my past baking experience, there was almost no way I could go wrong.

But alas, no. I might be able to bake wheat bread with one hand tied behind my back, but gluten-free is a different beast all together. On my first attempt, I added enough water to make the dough resemble a normal wheat dough. Turns out that wasn't enough. I ended up with a whole-grain, artisal-style brick.

Not easily deterred, I tried again with a wetter dough. And it was an improvement - but not by much. I couldn't blame the recipe - just that something in my technique was totally amiss.

When I got back to Berlin, the local organic market happened to be clearing out their 2007 stock of gluten-free products. I happily picked up a loaf of cornbread and two boxes of gluten-free bread mix. I was particularly skeptical of these being any better than what I'd made from scratch, but for 50% off I had to try.

A few nights ago, with an evening free, I suddenly had the urge to bake again. I pulled out my packaged mix, dumped it in a bowl, and read the instructions. After pouring in exactly the amount of water called for on the back of the box, I found myself looking at a bowl of... goop.

This was not bread dough as I know it. If this is what gluten-free dough looks like, I thought, no wonder my instincts led me astray on my first two tries.

Bread dough should be a creamy, silky mass - like pulled taffy, lightly dusted with flour. This was a mass, yes, but more in the sense of glob.

"Kneading" a gluten-free bread is like squelching through mud in your bare feet. The thrill of watching the dough's metamorphosis from sticky to smooth is utterly missing. But I kept it up for the requisite 6 minutes, and put the bread in a warm spot to rise for the next hour.

60 minutes later, I was surprised to find that the dough had actually grown. The yeast was working! The wet, gloppy batter was soft enough to bubble and grow, even without the support of gluten. I left it for a second rising, put it in the oven and began, tentatively, to hope for a loaf of real bread.

The scent of warm yeast filled the apartment. After 60 minutes of longingly sniffing the air, I opened the oven door and peeked inside. A beautiful, golden-brown crust looked back at me. I pulled the loaf out and, unable to wait, cut a wedge straight from the pan. Blowing on it just long enough to avoid third-degree burns, I popped it in my mouth.

Buttery. Delicious. Fluffy, with just the right chewiness. I had baked bread again! It was all I could do to keep from devouring half the loaf right then. Somehow I refrained... until breakfast the following morning.

What was left after that, I shredded into breadcrumbs and froze. I had no particular plan for them, but only days later I found a cake recipe calling for breadcrumbs. More on that next week.

Now I'm determined to try for a gluten-free sourdough bread. And the dense, wholegrain Schwarzbrot that is so common here seems like it would lend itself perfectly to a gluten-free recipe. I have to order some different types of flour by mail, but I can't wait to get started. Continue Reading!