Beautiful Beast

I want you to know that I've done it.

I've found the best bread recipe ever. I am not exaggerating. I swear, I'm not. If you want to be really, incredibly proud of yourself, then you should make this bread. If you want to impress anyone who isn't you, then make this bread. If you are in the market for a new friend, or a new, ahem, special friend, or even if you want to make amends with someone you've been quarreling with, then you need to make this bread. In fact, I see no reason at all why you shouldn't make this bread immediately.

Look at it this way: this bread requires a mere three ingredients, four if you count water. You might have all these ingredients in your pantry right now. Flour, salt, yeast. That's it! Even if you have made bread a million times before, you will be amazed by the alchemy. Remember, bread is magic! First, it's dry nothingness, then it's wet slop, then you cover it up (because you are so disgusted with it, of course), and then, the next thing you know, it has morphed into a miracle ball of magical wonder. It's so ballooned-out in perfect roundness that you hardly can bear to touch it, let alone put it in the hot, hot oven. But then, you must put it in the oven, of course, because that is when the second wonder takes place. Suddenly, you've done it! You've made a perfect, crusty miracle-loaf. Oh, and that Easter Butter Lamb that somehow made its way into your shopping basket at the market the other day? (Only $1.49!) Now is the perfect time to make use of it. You will not be sorry. You just won't.

Granted, this loaf requires some waiting time. You may get antsy. It's worth it, though. The first rise is, according to the original recipe, 12-18 hours. This sounds like a lame and very long time, but just do a little math ahead of time so that you can let it nestle into your schedule. I got home from work on Friday night at 11:30 pm, mixed the dough a bit later on, and it was starting its first rise at 12:50 am. By the next afternoon at about 2:00 pm, I went at it again, and the bread was ready by dinnertime (okay, I'm lying, it was done by, um, snack time). I would also be lying if I said that we did not eat half of the loaf for a snack. Thus, there is a pretty good reason that we didn't eat dinner until 10:00 pm (which may or may not have also had to do with the fact that, last night, we used the grill for the first time this season and ended up having to marinate the flank steak for way longer than we thought we'd need to and it was windy and there was fire everywhere and the steak kept being rare and we are really not rare-steak people.) Really, though, isn't it a sin (or at least a disgrace) to not eat the bread while it is hot from the oven? It is, really, the finest pleasure in life. And you, dear reader, need to have pleasures. That is a fact.

The Best-Ever, Incredibly Incredible No-Knead Bread
Adapted from the New York Times' adaptation of the Jim Lahey/Sullivan Street Bakery recipe
with special thanks to Dawn, who introduced me to this loaf on Friday night

yield: one 1 1/2 lb. round loaf

3 cups all-purpose, plus more for dusting
¼ teaspoon yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt

In a large bowl combine flour, yeast, and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended. Alert, alert! Dough will be shaggy, messy, and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, or up to about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees. You will know the dough is ready when the surface is dotted with little bubbles. (Mine was ready after about 13 hours.)

Lightly flour a work surface and pour dough on it.

Sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself two or three times. Leave it on your work surface, and cover loosely with plastic wrap. Let rest about 15 minutes.

Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball.

Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour. Put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour.

Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. (After I covered the dough and left it to rise, we ran some errands and ended up getting back three hours later -- I was worried, but it was still totally fine!)

When the dough is ready, it will be a lovely little dough baby that has doubled in size. When you poke it with your finger, your indentation will stay in the dough.

At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 F. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up. It may look like a mess, but that is okay! Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 12-20 minutes, or until loaf is browned and sounds hollow when you thump on its top with your knuckles.

Cool on a rack for about 20 seconds, because that is as long as you can possibly wait before eating it. On a cutting board and burning your fingers off, slice with a serrated knife and spread with salted butter. (An animal-shaped butter is preferable, but, really, any good butter will do. And for crying out loud, don't abuse this perfect loaf by slopping some margarine on it.)