Je ne sais bread.

Note: I do not speak French. At all. Sure, I like to sound like I know what I’m talking about. A la carte. Au bon pain. L’homme mange. The truth is, my knowledge of the French language is limited to what I have picked up from food-related items, American pop culture, and my favorite movie of all time, Amelie. However, just one whiff of this month’s Daring Baker challenge will have you and yours spouting off French as if you were a true Parisian.
Okay, not really. But it does smell good.
This month, the DB challenge was hosted by Mary at The Sour Dough and Sara at I Like to Cook. And before I forget, the complete (massively huge!) recipe can be found here and you can see what other DB’ers have done with their breads by checking out the blogroll here. Yes, my friends, it is Julia Child’s famous French bread recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume II.
Many of the Daring Bakers seemed to have approached this one with much fear and trepidation. Understandable, considering the recipe is so. flipping. long. and that it takes nearly an entire day to complete. However, I had the upper hand for this, my first DB challenge ever: I had made Julia’s recipe before. In fact, I do believe it was the first yeast bread I ever made, having just bought the fabulous book, The Way to Cook, also by Julia.
Yeast breads have never quite freaked me out the way they do some people. I guess I’ve always figured that, if all else fails, I’ll end up with something potentially resembling bread. Something that can at least make good croutons. Or dog biscuits. Whatev.

And so it began. With the exception of the initial mixing in the KitchenAid, I made the whole thing with my own two little hands. I had Mr. K firmly affixed to the laptop, reading the gargantuan recipe out loud as I went along. Here is the bread during the initial rest, just after all that kneading.

Here’s what is quickly becoming my favorite bread-related object (you know you’re addicted to food when you have a favorite bread-related object!). This is simply a clear plastic, food-safe bucket with quart/liter measurements marked on the side. Mr. K was at a food specialty store and mentioned that he’d been looking for one, and they just happened to have one in the back that they weren’t using. Score! Not only is this good for rising dough (note the straight sides), but you can mix up a giant batch of iced tea or lemonade or whatever. Plus, no need to pour in the 10.5 cups of water, since the measurements are already on the side of the bucket! We use a dry-erase marker on the side, which wipes off quite nicely.

Finally, here are the batards on the baking sheet, ready to go into the oven. I used a sort of hybrid between the regular recipe (in which you bake the loaves on the baking sheet the entire time) and the baker’s oven variation. I picked up this method from several recipes in The Bread Bible, which gives you all the benefits of the baker’s oven with none of the requisite physical coordination requirements of the dreaded baker’s peel. Follow the directions for the baker’s oven (preheat the baking stone, use the brick or ice cubes, etc. to create the steam, and so on), but begin by setting the baking sheet directly on top of the hot stone. At some point, the crust will have formed enough that you can slide the bread easily off the baking sheet and onto the hot stone itself - this is also a good time to rotate the loaves if they aren’t baking evenly.
It is torture to wait for this stuff to cool enough to eat. However, if Julia says the French never eat warm bread, then there will be no eating of the warm bread! C’est la vie! We did, however, spread it with lots of European butter and warm roasted garlic. And for that, my friends, there are only three words to do this bread justice, and they are most certainly NOT French:




