The first two weeks were like a warm-up. The recipes I picked weren’t much of a stretch or any huge challenge. Necessary, yes, because the pattern of prep/bake/photograph/write is a challenge in and of itself, so a few softball recipes at the start was, I think, a good idea. I’m equal parts scared and itching to get to the hard stuff. For me, that starts with bread. There are few things in this world as satisfying as that first slice of piping hot, crusty bread spread with melty butter.
When I was 16, I got a bread machine for my birthday. I remember possibly a handful of times that I used it. Bread machines are way easier, but I have never loved the results. I have an upgraded version of that first one now. It has tons of settings, promising plenty of ways to customize the baking, but it still sits in the garage, mostly unused. Besides, that would be cheating.
Why am I so intimidated by baking bread? There is so much that can go wrong, and because of that, it’s difficult to diagnose the issues when you don’t get a great result. Yeast is temperamental. Flour amounts vary based on current moisture conditions. You can underproof or overproof, and all that happens before you even put it in the oven. Bread can never really be foolproof, and since it’s also a pretty big time commitment, it’s really disappointing when it fails. Baking bread from scratch is not for the faint of heart, and the only way to get good at it is to do it a lot.
Since I’d really love to get good at bread, and since that means I’ll have to do it a lot, I started with this Amish Milk Bread recipe from The Spruce Eats. I was looking for something that didn’t need a starter and had a relatively short rise time. Also, I wanted to start off a little basic since I also was going to use my mixer’s dough hook to do the kneading work for the first time. I suppose the fact that it’s called Pennsylvania German Amish Milk Bread came into the decision, too, since PA German is my heritage, and if anyone knows about baking a basic, hearty, white bread, it’s the Amish.
I’m going to oversimplify the process, because with the exception of the water temperature (95-110 F is the window), there’s not a whole lot that can go wrong with the basic mixing. I mixed everything my hand with a wooden spoon, then attached the dough hook and let it go for a bit. Yes, I looked up how to use the dough hook. Yes, it made me feel a bit dumb to have to read directions on how to do it. Yes, here’s the link in case you need it: Bread Baking 101 How to Knead Dough. It was worth it. It gave me the exact setting for my mixer. I’m over the shame.
Below is the dough before the first rise and after. It’s really the first time you can know whether you accidentally killed your yeast with the water.
Before 
After
The recipe calls for a second knead here, which I did by hand. As time saving as using the dough hook is, I really enjoy kneading dough. Dough is so pleasantly soft and smooshy. Gotta admit, though, kneading for 5 straight minutes took a LOT of energy. Again, bread baking is not for the faint of heart. I’d also just put the babe down for her nap, and it wasn’t taking, so I was up to my elbows in flour, kneading for five minutes while she cried for the pacifier she’d thrown onto the floor.
After giving Princess her paci back, she was off to dreamland, and I was off to the kitchen to shape the dough into the loaves and prep them for the second rise. Here’s where things got a little dicey for me on this bake. After 45 minutes, I had hoped the bread would have risen to almost the top of the loaf pans. It hadn’t. I gave it another 15 minutes, but I didn’t want to stray too far from the given recipe. I was still a little gun-shy from my cavalier cream-capades from the Blueberry Scones last week.
Before 
After
I also thought perhaps it would rise a bit more as it baked. It didn’t. So I was not too happy with the height of the loaves when they came out of the oven. They had a beautiful color, and sounded hollow when tapped. They lifted easily from the loaf pans. All the signs of a good bread bake were there except that they were a little flat. I had to wait until they were a little cooler in order to cut into one. That’s the only point you really can tell if you were successful.
Cutting into the first one, it was denser than I expected, but not in an unpleasant way. I think I just had a different expectation of what kind of bread I’d chosen to bake. I did the test (totally stolen from Paul Hollywood on The Great British Baking Show) where you press your finger into the bread. If it’s under-baked, the indentation stays there because it’s still a bit moist and doughy. This bread spring right back. When I tasted it, I realized I’d definitely made a basic white bread. Then I definitely made myself a sandwich with that basic white bread. It was perfect.
So, back to the issue of diagnosis. My best guess is that it’s possible that I kneaded a bit too long on that second knead. When I make this again (and I will), I will likely be a little more reserved with that second knead. Punch down, get the larger air bubbles out, but careful to not over work it. I may get a better second rise that way. It’s also possible that it was a little drafty in my Florida kitchen. It is, after all, in the 60’s this week, also known as the depths of winter. I won’t get closer to knowing until I do it over again.
There’s also a level of bread expectation that needs to be managed. This bread may not be the best bread to eat with a stew or a saucy pasta, it may not be the fluffly, crusty bread of my carb dreams, but it is a great sandwich bread: hearty, mild flavored, and sturdy enough for tiers of toppings. It also made awesome french toast this morning! I have high hopes for the grilled cheese I plan to make for dinner.
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