What do you think?
Rate this book


575 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 3, 2015
Basic bread is nothing more than flour, yeast, salt, and water. Yet these four simple ingredients produce immense variety in breads, and the pleasure we derive from them. A fitting metaphor is the string quartet: It has only four instruments, but by varying the tempo, volume, and tones, [a string quartet]¹ can produce an almost infinite number of musical pieces. And although Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart each worked with the same instruments and the same notes, each piece they wrote was different, offering new and surprising pleasures every time. Bread is a melody written with a few simple ingredients, yet by varying how it is fermented, how the dough is developed and handled, and how loaves are shaped and, ultimately, baked, we can create a world of variety in breads.
p.15
Also called prosciutto bread, this delicious calorie bomb is a reliable old warhorse at Sicilian-American bakeries all over Brooklyn. [...] Peter suggested a trip to Villabate Alba, his favorite Italian bakery, located in Bensonhurst, an old middle-to-working-class neighborhood that had not yet been gentrified into a mix of espresso bars and expensive clothing stores. Dark wood accents everywhere, brightly lit glass cases and equally brightly colored pastries dazzle you as you pass over the threshold from the workaday neighborhood into a store that looks nothing so much as inside of a jewelbox: creamy cannoli, mini pies filled with apricot preserves and topped with toasted pine nuts, colorful cakes topped with marzipan replicas of fresh fruits as well executed as any old master's still life, and, almost hidden in the bread section, a lard loaf [...] We got closer to the secret at G. Esposito & Sons Jersey Pork Store on Court Street. [...] I asked the proprietor about those little bits of meat, largely unidentifiable, that studded the best lard breads. "I think it's called ciccoro," he said. "What is it? How do they make it?" Not sure," he said, either because he truly wasn't sure or because you don't reveal secrets. But ciccoro was all I needed to hear. Within minutes I was Googling the word on my phone. No luck. I tried "chicorro." Then "cichorro." Three strikes. As a Hail Mary, we fired off an email to Mario Batali, who is most obliging when it comes to questions of la cucina Italiana. "Is it ciccioli?" he replied
p.87
[E]very starter has a window of time when it's at its peak, so when I say "ferment for 12 to 14 hours," at any point in that interval it will produce peak or near-peak flavor. I've done a lot of experiments with every bread in this book to establish that sweet spot of time. You'll get the best results if you follow the suggested times. The heart of my craft is a loaf of bread, elsewhere in life, less is often more.
p.29
I particularly remember liking scones. To this day, most scones on this side of the Atlantic still leave me unmoved. All too often they have the texture I imagine you'd get with a baked hockey puck: dense, dry, and oversweetened (when they aren't undersweetened). Most English scones, on the other hand, are a type of tender, unyeasted bread, and they're slightly sweet but not overly so.
p.261
Almost all of [Zachary's recipes] were made on the limited counter space of a New York apartment kitchen. [...] All the breads in this book are mixed the way a thousand generations of people have done it: by hand. The process is efficient, surprisingly quick, and cleanup afterward is a lot easier than if you use a mixer. The process is efficient, surprisingly quick, and cleanup afterward is a lot easier than if you use a mixer. Likewise, kneading and shaping by hand are both relatively quick operations. And perhaps more importantly, they give you an intimate experience of how a dough develops, allowing you to learn to feel when a dough has reached the right point for baking.
p.1