makes 1 loaf
In coming up with the range of breads to offer at Bien Cuit, I knew I wanted to do something with cornmeal, but there didn’t seem to be a compelling reason to add just another traditional corn bread to the pile. Then I heard about broa de milho. Where France has its rustic Country Bread (similar to my 30-Hour Sourdough Loaf), the Portuguese incorporated corn into their peasant or farmhouse bread. It’s one of the few European breads that relies on both cornmeal and wheat flour. Thanks to the cornmeal, it has a gentle, sweet nuttiness that fills the nose with a very pleasant, almost buttery aroma.
One drawback to using cornmeal in bread is that the bread tends to go stale very quickly. That’s just the nature of corn. There’s no way to avoid this entirely, but I reasoned if I added some milk to the dough, the lactic acid would enrich the dough, giving it a dense yet light crumb, while at the same time retarding the process of staling. To balance the acidity of the milk, I added a little honey to the dough, more as a way to boost fermentation than to actually add honeyed sweetness. A touch of olive oil also moistens this dough. In coming up with these additions, I tried to think of ingredients that were common among the Romans, who brought bread making to the Iberian Peninsula (Spain and Portugal).
The key to cracking the code for the best broa de milho I could imagine was including some rye flour in the cornmeal-based starter. The rate of fermentation is about the same for both grains, so I figured, Why the hell not? Here, as elsewhere, using a combination of grains leads to more interesting and complicated flavors. The final result is a flavor that’s ultracreamy and yogurt-like. To be clear, even though the olive oil, milk, and honey make this bread slow to dry out, you really do want to eat it the day it’s made—this one doesn’t improve with age. Finally, and most deliciously, the brittle crunch of the crust and the sweet crumb are the perfect backdrop for butter and jam.