a loaf’s longevity
I’m always on the lookout for excellent bakeries, the kind that produce crisp baguettes and rustic sourdoughs, the good honest loaves. Yet while I enjoy eating bread fresh from the oven, I value, too, the loaf as it ages, on its way to becoming quite another ingredient to inspire a meal. Old bread? You may be surprised how flavorful it can be. At home I always seem to have a cupboard full of aging bread. Day-old bread makes the best toast and crostini, but older (some would say staler) bread can be sliced a bit thinner for another day or two, especially a whole-grain loaf, and still be delicious in its own way. The driest loaves can become croutons for soups, or even the soup itself, like pappa al pomodoro, or become a juicy panzanella salad. Did I mention bread crumbs, fine or coarse, and migas, fried in olive oil? The point is to use the whole loaf—fresh, day-old, or hard and dry.
Bread baking has always been a passion of mine, and I often make bread at home. Lately I’ve become enamored of flatbreads, like chapati and pita, which are baked on top of the stove on a hot griddle, hot and ready to devour in minutes. You’ll find an example on page 38.
As a child, I ate James Cagney eggs at least once a week. I didn’t know who James Cagney was, and my mother, who regularly made this dish for breakfast, never told me. Or I never asked. Only much later did I begin to wonder why a slice of bread with a hole punched out and an egg dropped in was named for a movie star who usually played gangsters. The buttered slice was gently fried in a skillet (the little punched-out bread round was fried too). A deft turn of the spatula meant the crisp bread hit the plate with a still-runny yolk inside. Like some other childhood food memories, the dish still haunts me, and I crave it from time to time—even if I do update it by using artisanal bread, a good egg, and olive oil, garlic, hot pepper, and sea salt. Serves 1
1 slice good bread
Olive oil or butter
1 good egg
Sea salt and pepper
1 garlic clove, sliced (optional)
Pinch of red pepper flakes
Using a small glass or a cookie cutter, punch a hole in the center of the bread. Lightly paint both sides of the bread with olive oil, as well as the punched-out round (or brush with butter if you prefer).
Heat a cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, lay in the bread. Let it begin to sizzle, then crack the egg into the hole. Season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with the garlic, if using. Brown the little round too, but be careful, as it will cook more quickly. When the bread is golden on one side and the egg is partially set, quickly flip it with a spatula and continue cooking for a minute or two more. A runny yolk is the aim. Sprinkle the top lightly with salt and pepper and a few red pepper flakes.
Garlic toast, simple as it is, needs precision to be great. Aside from starting with good bread, good olive oil, and fresh garlic, the secret lies in preparing it carefully and eating it immediately. The toast should be neither too pale nor too dark, and it should have a little “give” in the middle. Patience is required. Nurse it along—it can’t be rushed over high heat or it will burn. In the end, the effort taken pays off. Plain garlic toast, oil drizzled and sprinkled with sea salt, makes for a simply sublime repast. For a more heightened version, should you happen to be in Italy during the olive harvest in late autumn, visit a frantoio to sample the newly pressed oil straight from the mill. There you may be offered garlic toast splashed with luscious green olio nuovo, which is ridiculously good. Should you wish to dress up, so to speak, your garlic toast, consider these pairings: a slice of prosciutto or lardo, or a slice of ripe tomato; a smear of ultrafresh ricotta or soft goat cheese, or some strips of roasted pepper; and no one would discourage you from turning your garlic toast into a roast beef sandwich. Serves 1 or 2
2 slices good bread, cut from a rustic loaf
1 garlic clove
Fruity extra virgin olive oil
Sea salt
Toast the bread using your favorite method; this could be an electric toaster, a broiler, or even a grill set over hot coals. The old-fashioned stovetop tostapane sold in Italian hardware stores is a great choice as well.
Rub one side of each toast lightly with the garlic clove (for a more garlicky taste, rub aggressively). Drizzle the toasts with some olive oil, then sprinkle with sea salt to taste and serve. If you wish, adorn further according to your own whim.
For me, this frugal pasta dish ranks among the best things to eat. It has the same appeal as pasta alla carbonara—and it satisfies even without the pancetta, cheese, and eggs. Crisp, oily bread crumbs seasoned with garlic, pepper, and fennel seeds provide all the flavor. It’s good for when you are feeling like a hermit and there is nothing in the cupboard. Once I made a good version of this pasta using a too-small pot and linguine. Hence its then-title, Broken Linguine with Bread Crumbs. It can also be made with smaller shapes like ziti or strozzapretti, and it’s especially nice with whole wheat or farro pasta Serves 1
A 4-inch length stale dry baguette or a few slices of dry old French bread
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for drizzling
3 to 4 garlic cloves, minced
¼ teaspoon coarsely crushed fennel seeds
Salt and pepper
Red pepper flakes
¼ pound spaghetti, linguine, or other pasta shape
A chunk of Pecorino Romano cheese for grating (optional)
With a serrated knife, saw the baguette, if using, into thin slices. Crumble the bread with your fingers, which will produce a nice mixture of coarse and fine crumbs.
Heat the 2 tablespoons olive oil in a wide skillet over medium heat. Add the crumbs and let them fry gently and slowly take on color, stirring occasionally. When they are golden and crisp, add the garlic and fennel seeds and cook for a minute or so. Season the crumbs generously with salt and pepper, and add a bold amount of red pepper flakes as well. Remove from the heat.
Cook the pasta in boiling well-salted water until just al dente (usually for less time than the package instructions indicate). Drain and toss with the bread crumb mixture. Drizzle a little more oil. Add grated cheese to taste, if you wish.
Although crisp garlic toast is wonderful, sometimes you want the opposite of crisp, as in this Provençal sandwich, called pan bagnat. The aim here is to let the juicy interior meld with the bread a bit. It’s like a soggy salad (divinely soggy, that is) on a kaiser roll. It can be pared down to contain only tomato, or built up to include roasted peppers, grilled eggplant—even some good canned tuna. Garlic, olive oil, and red wine vinegar are the most important elements. A few anchovies and capers make a nice addition too. Take a basketful to the beach. By the time you get there, your sandwiches will be at their peak. Serves 4
1 pound ripe tomatoes, in assorted colors if possible
Salt and pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 anchovy fillets, rinsed and roughly chopped (optional)
1 teaspoon capers, rinsed
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
Pinch of red pepper flakes
12 basil leaves
4 French rolls or a baguette, split
A few tender parsley leaves
Olive Relish (optional; page 107)
Cut larger tomatoes into thick slices or wedges and smaller ones into halves. Put them in a bowl and season with salt and pepper. Add the garlic, anchovies, if using, capers, olive oil, vinegar, pepper flakes, and half the basil, torn or chopped. Gently toss with the tomatoes and leave for 5 to 10 minutes.
Spoon the tomato salad and its juices onto the bottoms of the rolls (or bottom half of the baguette). Lay the remaining basil leaves and the parsley over the tomatoes. Add a spoonful of olive relish to each roll (or 4 spoonfuls to the baguette), if desired. Replace the top(s) and press lightly. If using a baguette, cut into 4 pieces. Cover the sandwiches with a clean dish towel and wait for an hour or so before serving.
Who doesn’t have touchstone foods from childhood? My aunt Ruth made the best grilled cheese sandwiches, bar none. Decades before most people in this country had ever heard of panini, she used a waffle iron to make them with buttered caraway rye bread and Muenster cheese. This mouthwatering panino was embossed with square dimples, like crisp inverse croutons, encasing cheese that oozed and crisped at the edges. I thought my aunt invented it, but evidently it was a somewhat widespread Midwestern custom. There is no reason not to make it exactly the way she did, but here is the version I prefer these days. Serves 1
1 tablespoon butter, softened
2 slices good bread
3 ounces Fontina, Gruyère, or raclette cheese, sliced or grated
Sea salt (optional)
Heat a waffle iron. Butter the slices of bread. Place 1 slice butter side down on the waffle iron, layer on the cheese, and top with the second bread slice, butter side up. Close the waffle iron and let the sandwich cook for about 2 minutes, until golden brown and crisp on the edges. Sprinkle with salt, if desired.
Crostini is the Italian way to say toasts. They differ somewhat from bruschette, but it’s a fine point. Perhaps they are more similar to canapés, yet a bit rustic—they could be cousins. An assortment of several kinds of crostini makes an attractive first course, and they’re also great at a party. In Tuscany, chicken liver crostini are famously delicious, as are toasts spread with warm mashed white beans. Paired with a glass of wine, they can be a light meal. These crostini with sweet Gorgonzola, rosemary, caramelized onions, and walnuts are served hot from the oven—a sort of open-faced cheesy Italian rarebit. Serves 4 to 6
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, sliced ¼ inch thick
Salt and pepper
½ teaspoon finely chopped rosemary
Six ¾-inch-thick slices rustic whole-grain bread or ciabatta
3 ounces Gorgonzola dolce
18 to 24 walnut halves
Heat the oil in a wide skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook, turning frequently, until softened. Season generously with salt and pepper, reduce the heat to medium, and continue cooking for about 5 minutes, until nicely browned. Add the rosemary and transfer to a bowl to cool.
Heat the oven to 400°F, with a rack in the upper third. Put the bread on a baking sheet in one layer. Bake for about 5 minutes, until lightly toasted. Turn over the slices and toast again briefly.
Top each toast with about ½ ounce Gorgonzola, then top with some of the onions and 3 or 4 walnut halves. Bake until bubbling and crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Cut into wedges if desired.
In Spain (and in Portugal too), in an effort to waste nothing, old bread is turned into migas, essentially nothing more than rough cubes of dried bread fried in olive oil. A few drops of water, a generous splash of oil, and a goodly amount of garlic seem to magically bring even very dry bread back to life. Migas, which originally masqueraded as meat for a poor shepherd’s meal, is still prized today as a delicious tapa, served warm and dusted with pimentón. It is undeniably hearty fare, and not a bit fussy. There are, of course, many versions, some made with large bread crumbs instead of cubes. Serve migas as a snack with drinks, or as a meal, perhaps with fried eggs. Serves 4 to 6
A stale 1-pound loaf country bread, preferably several days old
Olive oil
2 ounces Spanish chorizo, diced (optional)
Salt and pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
Sweet or hot pimentón
Cut, tear, or break the bread into rough 1-inch chunks. If it is quite dry, moisten with 2 tablespoons cold water and cover with a towel for 30 minutes.
Heat ¼ inch of olive oil in a wide cast-iron skillet over medium heat. Add the bread and let brown gently for 8 to 10 minutes, turning the chunks frequently so they slowly crisp. Push the bread to the side, add the chorizo, if using, and let it sizzle. Toss to distribute and cook for a few minutes. Season the bread with salt and pepper. Add the garlic, stirring well, turn down the heat, and cook for 2 minutes more.
Dust the migas lightly with pimentón just before serving.
Bahn-mi is a wonderful Vietnamese sandwich born of a colonial past. It’s built on a French baguette, layered with roast pork, ham, and pâté, but then it suddenly goes Asian with an ample garnish of cucumber, pickled daikon and carrot, cilantro sprigs, and hot pepper. My home version is usually meatless, though, with avocado and egg instead, and plenty spicy. Serves 4
½ cup julienned peeled carrots
½ cup julienned peeled daikon
½ cup julienned peeled cucumber
Salt
½ teaspoon brown sugar
½ teaspoon fish sauce
½ teaspoon finely chopped serrano or fresh Thai chile
½ cup fresh bean sprouts, rinsed
2 tablespoons slivered scallions
6 basil leaves, torn
8 mint leaves, torn
Juice of ½ lime
1 fresh baguette
A few lettuce leaves
A few sprigs cilantro
1 firm ripe avocado, thickly sliced
2 hard-cooked eggs, quartered
Put the julienned carrots, daikon, and cucumber in a medium bowl and season with ½ teaspoon salt and the brown sugar. Add the fish sauce and chile, toss well, and let marinate for 5 minutes.
Add the bean sprouts, scallions, basil, mint, and a squeeze or two of lime juice to the julienned vegetables. Split the baguette lengthwise and line the bottom half with the lettuce leaves and cilantro sprigs. Spoon the vegetables into the loaf. Distribute the avocado and eggs evenly, salt lightly, add the top half of the baguette, and press down gently. Cut into 4 sandwiches.
A traditional bread-and-butter pudding made with milk, egg, sugar, and spice is for some the ultimate use of an old loaf. Like French toast, it is a frugal way to make a delicious dessert. I usually prefer a savory version with ham and cheese. It’s sort of like a quiche, but easier. Adding briefly cooked spinach or chard makes a lovely green version, or sprinkle in a handful of freshly chopped herbs along with the scallions. Serves 4
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1 day-old French baguette, cut into ¼-inch slices
¼ pound good-quality smoked ham, diced
6 ounces Gruyère cheese, grated
3 large eggs
2½ cups half-and-half
Salt and pepper
Grated nutmeg
6 scallions, finely slivered
Heat the oven to 375°F. Lightly butter a shallow 2-quart rectangular baking dish. Spread the remaining butter thinly on the slices of baguette. Line the baking dish with half the baguette slices, butter side down. Arrange the ham and half the cheese over the bread. Top with the remaining baguette slices, butter side up, and sprinkle with the remaining cheese.
Beat together the eggs and half-and-half, adding ½ teaspoon salt and pepper to taste. Grate in a little nutmeg, add the scallions, and whisk again. Pour the mixture into the baking dish, pushing down to submerge the bread if necessary.
Bake for about 45 minutes, until the custard is set but still a bit wiggly and the top is nicely browned.
In the poorer regions of Southern Italy, meatless meals are commonplace and eggplant is a favorite stand-in. A properly fried slice of eggplant cloaked in golden bread crumbs can be truly marvelous. Two caveats: first, find fresh, firm eggplants (without seedy centers) and, second, fry the slices gently in plenty of olive oil. For a warm antipasto, top small eggplant cutlets with a bit of fresh mozzarella and basil. For a more substantial dish, serve with a simple, bright tomato sauce. Serves 4 to 6
2 pounds small eggplants
Salt and pepper
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
1½ cups milk
1 cup coarse homemade bread crumbs, fresh or dried
Olive oil
Peel the eggplants and cut into ½-inch slices. Season on both sides with salt and pepper.
Put the flour on a plate. Beat the eggs and milk together in a shallow bowl. Sprinkle a baking sheet generously with about half of the bread crumbs. Dip each slice of eggplant in the flour, then submerge in the egg batter. Remove the eggplant slices from the batter with a slotted spoon and lay them on top of the bread crumbs. Sprinkle heavily with the rest of the bread crumbs, pressing them firmly into the eggplant slices on both sides.
Heat ½ inch of oil in a wide cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is wavy, carefully add some of the breaded eggplant in one layer, without crowding, and fry until golden on the bottom, about 2 minutes. Adjust the heat to keep them from browning too quickly. Turn the slices to cook the other side. Blot on paper towels and cook the remaining eggplant. Serve them plain, sprinkled with salt, or embellished (see headnote).
Centuries before bread ovens came into use, simple flatbreads were being baked on hot stones. Today there are many kinds of flatbread still being rolled or patted out by hand—chapatis, tortillas, piadine, to name only a few—but now they are baked on an iron griddle.
Freshly milled whole wheat flour and water can make a very good plain dough. To this, I add fenugreek, cilantro, and hot pepper for a flavorful flatbread that is a bit more savory. Serve them hot, dabbed with good butter, thick yogurt, or a fresh creamy cheese. Makes 12 breads
1½ cups whole wheat flour
½ cup all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 tablespoon dried fenugreek leaves
¼ cup roughly chopped cilantro
1 teaspoon finely chopped green chile
½ cup water, plus more if necessary
4 tablespoons butter or ghee, melted
Put the flours, salt, turmeric, fenugreek, cilantro, and chile into a medium bowl. Add the ½ cup water and the butter and stir with a wooden spoon to gather the dough together. Add a little more water if necessary to make a soft dough. Turn the dough out onto a floured board or countertop and knead for 5 minutes, or until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and let the dough rest for at least 30 minutes, or up to 4 hours.
Divide the dough into 12 equal pieces and form each piece into a smooth ball. Dust each ball lightly with flour and roll into a flat 6-inch circle.
Heat a well-seasoned cast-iron griddle or skillet over medium-high heat. Carefully place the breads on the hot griddle to cook. Turn after about 2 minutes, so each side is lightly browned and speckled (you may need to adjust the heat throughout cooking to maintain the proper temperature). Brush breads with more butter and sprinkle with salt if desired.
Everybody loves warm corn bread, and these popovers made with fine cornmeal have a similar appeal but are lighter. They’re the perfect combination of air and crunch. The batter can be poured into a standard muffin tin for individual popovers or baked in a cast-iron skillet for a big impressive one. (Miniature popovers are good with cocktails.) On a hot summer day, try them for breakfast and wash them down with a glass of cold buttermilk. Makes 12 popovers
2 tablespoons butter, softened, for greasing the tin
3 large eggs
1 cup milk
⅓ cup buttermilk
⅓ cup water
¾ cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup fine cornmeal
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter, melted
Heat the oven to 375°F. Generously butter a standard muffin tin or twelve 4-ounce ramekins. In a bowl, beat the eggs with the milk, buttermilk, and water. Sift together the flour, cornmeal, and salt and stir into the egg mixture to make a thin batter. Add the melted butter and whisk until the batter is smooth. Let stand for at least 30 minutes at room temperature.
To bake, put the buttered muffin tin in the oven for 5 minutes. Then, for each popover, pour ¼ cup batter into each cup of the heated tin. Bake until the popovers are puffed and well browned, 25 to 30 minutes. Serve immediately.
Note: If using ramekins, place them on a baking sheet. For a large version, use a shallow 4-cup baking dish.