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Peasant Bread — The Loaf That Belongs Next to a Cold-Weather Pot

First week of November. The weather turned hard Monday — a cold front blew in from Colorado with a fifty-mile-an-hour wind, and a hard freeze that night, twenty-eight degrees. The greens survived under the row cover. Most of the leaves on the cottonwood came down in two days. The yard was knee-deep in gold. I raked all afternoon Wednesday and Hannah came home and said: you raked. I said: I did. She said: you don't have to rake. I said: I know. She said: but you did. I said: I like raking when I have to and I like having raked when I'm done.

The leaves went into a compost pile at the back of the garden. By spring they'll be black gold. The garden compost system has been my project for years — three bins, the front bin building, the middle bin cooking, the back bin finished and ready to use. It's a slow rotation. The system has been in operation for eight years. Last year it produced twelve cubic yards of finished compost. We use it on the beds and on the orchard and on the food forest plantings. The fertility of the property is internal now — I haven't bought soil amendments in three years. The land feeds itself, with help.

Tuesday I cooked a pot of chili — not for any reason, just for the cold. Venison ground, three kinds of dried beans (pintos, blacks, kidneys, all from last year's harvest), tomatoes from this year's canning, onions and peppers from the freezer, cumin and chile and coriander and paprika and a bay leaf, simmered for three hours. Served with cornbread that was Hannah's, made in the cast iron with bacon grease in the bottom that gave it the crisp brown crust. Hannah ate two bowls. I ate three. We had it for lunch the next day too. By Thursday the pot was empty. Cold-weather cooking has its own arithmetic — make a lot, eat from it, the second day is better than the first, the third day better than the second, until you finish it.

Wednesday Quoy came over from NSU. He's a sophomore now. He's been visiting most weekends — keeping me on his rotation, he said — and he's started bringing a friend or two on visits. This Wednesday he brought a girl named Ellie who is in his Cherokee studies class. Ellie is half Choctaw, half Cherokee, full force of personality. She and Hannah talked food sovereignty for two hours. Quoy and I went out to the workshop and worked on a small hand-tool he wants to fabricate as a Christmas gift for his mother — Lily — a hand-forged blade for cutting acorn. He's got the design figured out. He needs my hands to help with the steel. We started Wednesday. We'll finish over a couple of weekends. The blade will be done by mid-December.

Hannah’s cornbread in the cast iron is its own thing — her recipe, her hands, her timing — and I won’t pretend I can improve on it. But on the nights when I’m the one starting dinner, when the chili is already going and I want something warm and bread-shaped to come out of this kitchen, I make this peasant bread. It’s the kind of loaf that fits cold-weather arithmetic: simple to put together, better than it has any right to be, and gone before you expect it.

Peasant Bread

Prep Time: 15 min (plus 2 hrs rise) | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 2 hrs 45 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1 1/4 tsp active dry yeast
  • 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
  • 1 1/2 cups warm water (around 110°F)
  • 1 tsp sugar
  • 1 tbsp olive oil, for the bowl
  • 2 tbsp unsalted butter, for greasing the pan

Instructions

  1. Activate the yeast. Combine warm water, sugar, and yeast in a large bowl. Stir gently and let sit 5–10 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast is dead — start over with fresh yeast.
  2. Mix the dough. Add flour and salt to the yeast mixture. Stir with a wooden spoon until a shaggy, sticky dough forms. Do not knead. It will look rough — that’s correct.
  3. First rise. Drizzle olive oil around the sides of the bowl and turn the dough once to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a clean towel. Let rise in a warm spot for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until doubled in size.
  4. Prep the pan. About 20 minutes before baking, preheat oven to 425°F. Generously butter a 9-inch oven-safe skillet or two small round cake pans. The butter should be thick enough to coat the bottom and sides completely.
  5. Shape and second rise. Using lightly floured hands, scrape the dough out of the bowl and divide if using two pans. Shape loosely into a round — don’t overwork it. Place in the buttered pan. Let rest uncovered for 20–25 minutes. The dough will relax and spread slightly.
  6. Bake. Bake at 425°F for 25–30 minutes, until the top is deep golden brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped. The buttered pan will give the bottom a crisp, golden crust.
  7. Cool briefly. Let the bread rest in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Slice when cool enough to handle — though no one waits that long.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 33g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 360mg

Jesse Whitehawk
About the cook who shared this
Jesse Whitehawk
Week 433 of Jesse’s 30-year story · Tulsa, Oklahoma
Jesse is a thirty-nine-year-old welder, a Cherokee Nation citizen, and a married dad of three in Tulsa who cooks over open fire because that's how his grandpa Charlie did it and his grandpa's grandpa did it before him. His food draws from Cherokee tradition, Mexican heritage from his mother's side, and Oklahoma BBQ culture. He forages wild onions every spring and makes grape dumplings in the fall, and he considers both acts of cultural survival.

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