Gouda And Roasted Potato Bread

October. The fall deepens and the reviews keep arriving and the Two Kitchens is finding its readers — the mixed-race readers, the immigrant-child readers, the anyone-who-has-felt-between readers, the population of the neither-and-both country that the book describes and that I inhabit and that, apparently, is much larger than I thought. The population is: everyone. Everyone has felt between. Everyone has two kitchens, even if one of them is not a kitchen but a language or a country or a religion or a part of themselves that they cannot fully reconcile with the other part. The between-ness is universal. The book is universal. The universality was unexpected. The unexpected is the gift.

I made oden — the fall anchor, the big pot, the three-day simmer — and the oden simmered while the emails arrived and the newsletter subscribers accumulated and the life that I have built continued to build, the way oden continues to build: slowly, over days, each day adding depth, each day the broth richer, the flavors more complex, the pot holding more than it held at the beginning.

Miya's blog — Miya's Kitchen — has fifty followers. Fifty people who read a ten-year-old's food blog, who follow her onigiri posts and her tamagoyaki tutorials and her opinionated reviews of Japanese restaurants in Portland ("the miso soup was okay but my mom's is better — 3 stars"). The fifty followers are the seed. The seed will grow. The growing is the next generation of the practice, the chain extending into the digital space, the kitchen becoming a blog becoming a newsletter becoming a book, the pattern repeating, the pattern is me and the repetition is Miya.

Halloween: Miya dressed as "a food critic." She carried a notebook, a pen, and a laminated rating card (1-5 stars, with "oishii" as the 5-star rating). She went door to door rating the candy. "Snickers: 4 stars. Skittles: 2 stars. Homemade caramel apple: 5 stars, oishii." The rating system was rigorous. The methodology was sound. The food critic is ten years old and she is already the most honest reviewer in Portland.

The oden pot simmered for three days, and on the third day I wanted something else slow and building to put in the oven — something that required patience, that would fill the kitchen with warmth while the newsletters kept arriving and Miya refined her candy-rating methodology on the front porch. This Gouda and roasted potato bread is that thing: heavy and golden and worth every hour, the kind of loaf that holds more than bread, the kind you pull apart at the table when the fall outside is doing exactly what fall is supposed to do.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes (plus 2 hours rise time) | Servings: 12 slices

Ingredients

1 lb Yukon Gold potatoes, cubed (about 2 medium)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided
1 package (2 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast
1 cup warm water (105—115°F)
1 teaspoon sugar
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups shredded Gouda cheese, divided
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

Roast the potatoes. Preheat oven to 425°F. Toss potato cubes with 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast for 25—30 minutes, flipping halfway, until golden and tender. Let cool slightly, then roughly mash — you want texture, not smoothness. Reduce oven to 375°F.
Activate the yeast. In a small bowl, combine warm water, sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let sit 5—10 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, start over with fresh yeast.
Make the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, rosemary, and 1 cup of the shredded Gouda. Add the yeast mixture and 1 tablespoon olive oil. Stir until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead 8—10 minutes until smooth and elastic.
Fold in the potatoes. Flatten the dough into a rough rectangle, spread the mashed roasted potatoes over the surface, and fold the dough over them. Knead gently for 2—3 more minutes until the potato is evenly distributed. The dough will be slightly sticky — resist adding too much flour.
First rise. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a clean towel or plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until doubled in size.
Shape and second rise. Punch down the dough and shape into a round or oval loaf. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Cover loosely and let rise another 30—45 minutes until puffed.
Top and bake. Brush the loaf gently with beaten egg. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup Gouda over the top. Bake at 375°F for 28—35 minutes, until the crust is deep golden and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. An internal temperature of 190°F confirms doneness.
Cool before slicing. Let the bread rest on a wire rack for at least 20 minutes before cutting. The interior needs time to set — this is the hardest part.

Nutrition (per serving)

Gouda And Roasted Potato Bread — The Big Pot, The Long Simmer, The Thing That Keeps Building