Baking a Traditional Farmhouse Loaf from Scratch

A Loaf Worth the Wait

Few things say British countryside living quite so plainly as a big, domed farmhouse loaf cooling on a rack by an open window. It is not a fashionable bread. It has no sourdough starter with a name, no heritage grain list, no celebrity endorsement. What it has is four ingredients, a warm kitchen and a decent hour or two of your attention. The result is a loaf with a crisp, well-coloured crust, a soft and slightly close crumb, and enough substance to stand up to a bowl of soup, a slab of cheddar or a smear of salted butter while it is still faintly warm.

This is the loaf that would once have been made on a baking day, when the range was lit anyway and the flour bin was full. The method below is written for a large 900g (2lb) tin, which gives you a proper farmhouse shape and enough slices to see a household through to Wednesday.

The Ingredients and the Kit

Farmhouse baking is not about expensive extras. It is about weighing properly and not rushing. For one large loaf you will need:

• 700g strong white bread flour, plus a little extra for dusting. You can swap up to 150g for strong wholemeal for a nuttier, slightly denser loaf, but add an extra 20ml of water if you do.
• 7g fast-action dried yeast (one sachet), or 15g fresh yeast if you can get it from a market stall.
• 10g fine sea salt, which is roughly two level teaspoons. Do not skimp on this; saltless bread tastes flat and proves too quickly.
• 430–450ml warm water, at blood temperature. Test it on the inside of your wrist: it should feel neither hot nor cold.
• 1 tablespoon of sunflower oil or soft butter, optional, for a slightly more tender crumb and better keeping.

You will want a large mixing bowl, a jug, a clean tea towel, a greased 900g loaf tin and a cooling rack. A dough scraper is a small luxury that makes the whole business much tidier. A digital thermometer is useful but by no means essential.

Mixing: Bring It Together Gently

Tip the flour into the bowl. Add the salt to one side and the yeast to the other, keeping them apart until the water goes in, as a direct hit of salt can slow the yeast down. Pour in most of the water, keeping a splash back, and bring everything together with your hand or a wooden spoon until you have a rough, shaggy mass with no dry flour left at the bottom.

Now stop. Cover the bowl with a tea towel and leave it for ten minutes. This short rest lets the flour hydrate and the gluten begin to form on its own, which turns a sticky, frustrating knead into something far more agreeable. It is the single easiest improvement you can make to your bread.

Kneading: Eight Minutes of Honest Work

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured worktop and knead it. Push the heel of your hand into the far side of the dough, fold the top back over itself, give the whole thing a quarter turn, and repeat. The dough will feel tacky at first. Resist the urge to keep throwing flour at it, because too much extra flour makes a dry, tight loaf. A light dusting on your hands and the worktop is plenty.

After eight to ten minutes the dough should be smooth, springy and only faintly sticky. Take a small piece and stretch it between your fingers: if it pulls into a thin, translucent sheet you can almost read through, it is ready. That is the windowpane test, and it is more reliable than any clock. A stand mixer with a dough hook will do the same job in five or six minutes on a low setting.

The First Prove and the Shape

Put the dough back into a lightly oiled bowl, cover it, and leave it somewhere warm and draught-free at around 20–24°C. It should roughly double in size in one to one and a half hours. Press a floured finger into the top: if the dent springs back slowly and only partly, it is proved. If it springs back at once, give it longer. If it collapses, it has gone too far, though it will still bake into something edible.

For more flavour, prove it slowly overnight in the fridge instead, then let it come back to room temperature for an hour before shaping.

Tip the dough onto the worktop and press it gently to knock out the largest bubbles. Shape it into a fat sausage by folding the sides in and rolling it lightly, then drop it seam-side down into the greased tin. An oiled tin gives the crust a lovely golden, slightly fried edge.

The Second Rise and the Bake

Cover the tin and leave it for 45 to 60 minutes, until the dough has risen just above the rim and springs back when touched. Meanwhile, heat the oven to 230°C conventional, 220°C fan, gas mark 8, with a shelf in the middle, and put a small roasting tin of hot water on the bottom shelf. That steam gives you a thinner, glossier crust.

Bake for 15 minutes, then turn the oven down to 200°C conventional, 180°C fan, gas mark 6 and give it another 20 to 25 minutes. If the top is browning too fast, lay a sheet of foil loosely over it. Turn the loaf out of the tin and tap the base: it should sound hollow. If it feels soft or the sides give, put it back, without the tin, for five minutes more. A thermometer pushed into the centre should read 90–95°C.

Cooling, Keeping and the Daily Round

Cool the loaf on a rack, never in the tin, or the trapped steam will soften the base. You will hear it crackle as it cools, which is the crust setting and shrinking. Try to leave it for at least half an hour before cutting; the crumb is still settling, and a hot slice tears rather than slices. Half an hour is the ideal, though few manage it.

Keep the loaf in a bread bin wrapped in a clean tea towel or a paper bag, stood cut face down on the board. It is at its best on the first day, perfect for toast on the second, and by the third it wants reviving with a sprinkle of water and eight minutes in a hot oven. It also freezes beautifully in slices.

Then eat it the way a farmhouse loaf deserves: cut thick, buttered generously, and served with whatever the garden, the larder or the local shop has provided.