Emma’s Buttermilk Rye (Swedish Limpa)


heirloom grain

we share the last slice

of buttermilk rye

The above haiku was written by my dad’s cousin Lesley, an accomplished and award-winning poet, and was inspired by my great-grandmother’s buttermilk rye bread.  My great-grandmother, Emma, grew up on the southern tip of Sweden within sight of the sea.  Her father owned the local flour and saw mill and also tended to fruit orchards on their land.  The microclimate where they lived was relatively mild and hospitable to growing fruits such as apples, plums, tart cherries, currants and berries.  As a child Emma travelled all over Sweden by train with her father selling the fruit they had grown.

In her early teens, Emma fell in love with a local boy, Sven, who was not as well off as she.  He was determined to go to America and make a better life for himself and eventually Emma.  Sven left Sweden and sailed to America, settling in Illinois.  He changed his name to Swan and found work on a farm, learning to speak English in the process.  He eventually returned to Sweden to get Emma and bring her back to America with him.  The two were married in 1911.

The couple decided to settle in the Minneapolis, Minnesota area as it was home to many Scandinavian immigrants and had a climate and landscape that felt familiar to them. Because of his English speaking experience, Swan was able to find a good job in Minneapolis.  He worked as a chauffeur for a wealthy man who was a director for General Mills.  Emma was quite social and became known for her afternoon fika gatherings, charming the local women with her baked goods and hospitality.

This buttermilk rye bread is one of her recipes that has found its way into my baking rotation.  A tender crumb thanks to the buttermilk and a hint of orange and anise make this an exceptionally warm and comforting bread, perfect for wintertime.  It definitely has a festive, Christmasy quality to it, but it could certainly be made throughout the fall and winter months…and beyond!  The combination of rye, orange and anise is as addictive as it is unusual.  I often find myself craving a slice, slightly warm from the oven, spread with a generous layer of salted butter.  And a cup of coffee, of course.  Despite its citrus and spice notes, Swedish Limpa can serve as a base for your smørrebrød, as long as the sandwich ingredients you use compliment the warmth of the bread.  I have also heard it suggested that you use Swedish Limpa crumbs in your Swedish meatballs, but I have yet to try it.

I am so grateful for recipes like this, handed down through the generations with stories attached to them.  Making this simple bread is a very tangible way to connect with my great-grandmother, revisit her stories and honor her legacy.  What can you make in your kitchen that will connect you with your ancestors?  What recipes do you need to write down in the hopes that they will be carried forward to future generations?  Food can be such an extraordinarily powerful link between past, present and future.

Emma’s Buttermilk Rye Bread (Swedish Limpa)

Makes one loaf

1 Cup buttermilk

1/4 Teaspoon baking soda

1 Tablespoon butter

2 Tablespoons water

2 Tablespoons molasses

The zest of 1 orange

1 Teaspoon anise seed, toasted briefly in a dry skillet and then ground, or 1 teaspoon ground anise seed

1 Teaspoon fine salt

2 Teaspoons instant yeast

1 Cup dark rye flour (I use Bob’s Red Mill brand)

2 Cups bread flour

  1. Combine buttermilk and baking soda in a liquid measuring cup.
  2. Combine butter, water, molasses and orange zest in a small saucepan and heat to a simmer.  Remove from heat and cool slightly.
  3. Add buttermilk mixture and molasses mixture to the mixing bowl of a stand mixer.
  4. Add ground anise seed, salt, yeast and rye flour to the bowl.
  5. Using the paddle attachment, mix on low until ingredients are combined.  Add bread flour and continue to mix on low until the dough is fully combined and clearing the side of the bowl.
  6. Switching to the dough hook attachment, knead dough on low for approximately 4 minutes.  If you are mixing and kneading the dough by hand, the kneading process will take longer.
  7. Remove the bowl from the mixer, cover with plastic wrap and let the dough rise at room temperature for approximately 2 hours.
  8. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Remove the dough from the bowl and shape it as desired on a piece of parchment paper.  I like the oval shape, pictured above, or you can make it into a circle or even place it in a greased standard-sized loaf pan.  Cover lightly with plastic wrap and allow to rise for another 45 minutes to an hour.
  9. Remove plastic wrap and decoratively score dough with a razor blade or a sharp knife.  Place on a baking sheet (or directly on a baking stone if you have one) and bake for 30-35 minutes.  The internal temperature of the dough should be at least 198 degrees when it is done baking.
  10. Allow the bread to cool before slicing.

Roasted Pear Compote with Cardamom, Vanilla and Fresh Ginger


Roasted Pear Compote with Cardamom, Vanilla and Fresh Ginger on crispbread spread with cream cheese.  An excellent fika treat!

It’s time we had a little chat about cardamom.  Citrusy, spicy, floral….it is, shall we say, a very complex and exotic spice.  Although native to India, cardamom has somehow managed to find its way into many traditional recipes for Scandinavian baked goods.  The Nordic countries are famous for their cardamom buns, cakes and cookies.  How did this far-flung spice find its way from India to Scandinavia?  Some claim that the Vikings brought it north with them after encountering it on their travels to the Byzantine Empire (now Turkey) or possibly Constantinople (now Istanbul).  Others say it was first brought to mainland Europe when the Moors established a presence on the Iberian peninsula, and it made its way to Scandinavia from there.  Whatever the circumstances, cardamom is the darling spice of the Nordic baking world.

It is not, however, beloved by all.  I once bought my daughter a large cardamom-laced sugar cookie from a Scandinavian bakery.  She eagerly took a big bite, unaware of the cardamom lurking inside, and spit it out, disgusted.  “Mom, why does my cookie taste like soap!?”  Oh, how my Swedish, Norwegian and Danish ancestors must have rolled in their graves upon hearing this!  Clearly I had not done as good of a job raising her as I thought I had.  Not enough exposure to cardamom and now the taste was unpleasant, foreign and apparently soapy to her.  We joke that it might make a good title for her memoir someday:  Why Does My Cookie Taste Like Soap?  Discovering my Nordic Heritage the Hard Way (coming to a book store near you in 20 years or so).  As I said, not beloved by all.

To be honest, I didn’t like cardamom as a kid either.  I now enjoy it in small doses ( a little goes a LONG way), and I feel like some of the recipes I encounter are a bit heavy handed with this potent spice.  If you are new to cardamom or are trying to convince your children of its deliciousness, I would suggest a light touch at first…a quarter or half teaspoon of it here or there.  I also recommend buying the pods and grinding the seeds inside yourself rather than purchasing ground cardamom.  You will be rewarded with a much truer flavor.

This pear compote is delicately laced with whole cardamom seeds, and I absolutely love it.  It makes a delicious topping for toast, crispbread, porridge and granola served with filmjölk, yogurt or milk of your choice.  Or you can just eat it with a spoon!  According to Live Lagom:  Balanced Living the Swedish Way by Anna Brones, compotes are a very common way to serve fruit in Sweden.  This one is my take on a pear compote I made in cooking school some years back.   In class we used it as a filling for a gingerbread cobbler, which is something to consider.  The combination of pears and gingerbread is utterly magical.

Roasted Pear Compote with Cardamom, Vanilla and Fresh Ginger

 Makes approximately 12 ounces

 5-6 small to medium-sized Bartlett pears, peeled and cut into ¾ inch cubes

2 tablespoons honey

Seeds from 2 crushed cardamom pods, pods discarded

4-5 thin slices of fresh ginger (no need to peel)

a pinch course salt

½ vanilla bean

1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
  2. Combine all ingredients except vanilla bean and lemon juice in an 8 or 9 inch square baking dish.
  3. With a small sharp knife, split vanilla bean down one side of the pod.Open up the pod and lay it flat on your cutting board. Using the back of your knife, remove the black seeds from the interior of the pod by scraping from one end of the open pod to the other.  Place seeds and empty pod in the baking dish along with the other ingredients.
  4. Bake for 45 minutes, stirring half way through, or until pears have softened considerably.
  5. Remove the pan from the oven.  Using a spoon, remove and discard the vanilla bean pod and ginger slices.  Mash pears with a potato masher or the back of a fork until they are create a chunky, rustic mash.  Add lemon juice.  Taste the mixture and season with additional lemon juice, salt or honey to taste.  Once the compote has cooled, transfer to a clean jar and store in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.


Saying Yes to the Sourdough Life


Last weekend, I had the privilege of teaching eight lovely women how to bake sourdough bread.  I absolutely adore teaching these workshops.  The participants are always so enthusiastic and willing to get their hands right in the dough (which is exactly what we do….no mixers here!)  We cover a lot of ground in a three hour span, basically a Sourdough 101, and everyone leaves with two loaves of bread ready to put in the refrigerator overnight and bake in the morning, along with a sourdough starter of their own to feed and nurture so that they can continue baking bread in their own kitchens.  Sourdough bread instruction tends to be very technical and intimidating.  My approach to teaching it is to make it fun and inviting.  Baking sourdough bread should not be an activity reserved only for those who love hydration percentages and baker’s math.  It’s for everyone who is willing to say “yes” to the sourdough life.

Those who show up at my workshops willing to say a hearty “yes” to this way of life bring with them so many reasons for wanting to do so:

I need something creative, just for me.

I love the idea of doing something real, with my hands.

I don’t even eat bread but I want to make this for my family.

I want to know what’s going in to the bread I eat.

Each one on their own path but wanting to enhance their lives by giving themselves over to this ancient, creative practice.  It is a beautiful thing, this sharing of the sourdough life, and I am grateful to be able to do it.

What is the sourdough life?  It is a commitment to nurturing a living ecosystem, the sourdough starter, that is your partner in the baking process.  It is a willingness to be present for your sourdough starter when it needs your attention, which at first is as often as twice a day.  It is an opportunity to dance with the ancient rhythms of life and nature that are inherent in the baking of sourdough bread.   It is a intentional slowing down to an unhurried pace that runs counter to almost every aspect of the modern world.  It is a surrendering of control and an opportunity to simply allow things to happen in their own good time.  It is a creative ritual that brings a sense of simplicity, connection and well-being into our lives.  Oh, and there’s the reward of the bread itself….fragrant, warm and rustic, unlike anything you would find in the grocery store.  And you made it with your own two hands with a simple combination of flour, water and salt.

My introduction to this life came in culinary school, three years ago.  I had just gone through a divorce and was faced with the prospect of what was next for me.  I had been a stay-at-home mom for 12 years.  What would I do to support myself?  Before I had children, I had been a practicing attorney.  A very unhappy one.  I wasn’t too excited about returning to that career path, but I investigated my options, networked with my former colleagues and went on some interviews.  In the end, I just couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t put myself back in that toxic environment.  So I went to culinary school instead.  It was something I had always wanted to do, cooking and baking had been long-standing passions in my life.  Artisan Breads was known as a demanding class, but I absolutely loved it, particularly the sourdough aspect of it.  I fed my starter religiously, even taking him with me on vacations.  After the class ended, I continued to bake on my own and even considered the prospect of owning my own bakery for awhile.  The more I baked the more bread I gave away to friends and family.  They began asking if I could show them how to make it themselves, and so the workshop was born.

Now I write, teach yoga and journaling classes, and host bread baking workshops.  A far cry from my lawyering days and not nearly as lucrative, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I don’t know where this journey will take me next, but I do know that settling into this ancient practice of sourdough bread baking has changed me.  Yes, it can be a bit of an ordeal to create a starter, to continue to nurture and feed it, to plan ahead so that your bread has enough time to ferment in the refrigerator before baking.  It’s so much easier to just buy bread from the store!  But the results of your efforts are well worth it, both in terms of the rewards of the creative process and the delicious bread itself.

Consider saying “yes” to the sourdough life, to dedicating yourself to a practice that grounds, delights and nourishes on so many levels.  Come to a workshop or read a book on the topic (I recommend Sourdough by Sarah Owens).  Simply begin by creating your own starter and see where that takes you.  I will follow up this post with instructions for beginning your own starter, but if you can’t wait, there are plenty of resources on the internet for getting started.  The good people at www.kingarthurflour.com are always a good and reliable source.


There is No Rush


“The mindful nature of sourdough production is that it can’t be rushed, in fact the essence of its success, and the accompanying feelings of satisfaction and pride, are bound into the amount of time it takes.”

-Jo Bisseker Barr, Breathe Magazine, Issue 11

There is no rush has been my chosen mantra over the last couple of weeks.  Simply saying the words to myself periodically as I move throughout the day has a grounding effect…my breath slows, I feel rooted in the present moment and an opportunity to refocus on whatever task is at hand suddenly reveals itself.

Rushing has become the norm in our modern world.  We run from here to there trying to accomplish what we can, all the while thinking of the next thing on our to do list.  We are rarely present in what we are doing, fully immersed in what is right in front of us.  I find that even when I’m not busy I feel rushed, not because I have so much that I need to get done, but because it has become my default way of being.

The practice of baking sourdough bread helps me embrace the values of an unhurried life.  From the time I mix the levain for a loaf of bread to the time I take it out of the oven is usually close to 36 hours.  The process cannot be rushed.  The dough sets the pace, and I am here to engage with it when it is ready for the next step in the process.

Intentionally engage in slow activities that encourage you to move to the rhythm of the natural world.  Your kitchen is a great place to practice this kind of slow living.  Good things take time.  Let them unfold as they will.  Be ready when they are.  There is no rush.

Mandelmussla (Almond Tart Shells)


Are you considering becoming a creative person?  Too late.  You already are one.

Big Magic:  Creative Living Beyond Fear, Elizabeth Gilbert

I listened to an episode of NPR’s On Being with Krista Tippett this morning in which Ms. Tippett interviewed Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love and, most recently, Big Magic:  Creative Living Beyond Fear.  Ms. Gilbert talked about how many people believe that creativity is reserved for the artists of the world, and that they themselves are not creative.  She went on to say that we can easily disprove this theory by looking to our ancestors.  Our grandparents and great-grandparents were creative makers, somewhat out of necessity, but also because human beings are inherently creative.  We have a desire to make things, and to make beautiful things…it’s simply the way we are.  “If you’re alive, you’re a creative person,” she says.  “You and everyone you know are descended from tens of thousands of years of makers.”

These little tarts remind me of my own legacy of creativity, the one that began with my Scandinavian ancestors spending long cold winter days in the kitchen baking exquisite breads, cookies, cakes, pies and tarts.  Why?  Because they wanted to create something that went a little above and beyond the ordinary….it’s what we are hard-wired to do.  Little tarts like these are lovely and delicious works of art, a small offering of beauty made for no reason other than the pleasure of doing so.  Oh, and the pleasure of sitting down and savoring their sweetness with a strong cup of coffee, of course.

How will you be the artist that you already are today?  What will you make that’s just a little more beautiful than it needs to be?   Perhaps these charming little almond tart shells are just the thing to get you started.  The blank canvas of fika treats, these simple tart shells can be dressed up with any manner of fillings…jam, sweetened berries, pastry cream, lemon curd, whipped cream just to name a few.  They are also delicious on their own, served upside down and dusted with a little powdered sugar.

You will need a set of small tart pans for this recipe.  I am fortunate to have inherited my pans from my mother, but if you do not already have a set, they are available through Amazon for a reasonable price.

Mandelmussla (Almond Tart Shells)   Makes 25-30 tart shells, depending on the size of your tart pans

1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 large egg

1 cup blanched, slivered almonds, ground fine in a food processor

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

1 teaspoon almond extract

2 cups all-purpose flour, spooned and leveled

1. In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream butter and sugar together until fluffy.  Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.

2.  Add the egg, followed by the ground almonds, salt and almond extract. Mix until incorporated.

3.  Add the flour and mix on low until just combined.  Do not overmix.

4.  Remove bowl from mixer and knead the dough gently with your hands inside the bowl for a minute or two until it all comes together into a cohesive whole.  Remove the dough from the bowl and place on a large sheet of plastic wrap.  Wrap tightly and chill dough for at least 30 minutes.

5.  Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Lightly butter 25-30 small tart pans.  Remove chilled dough from the refrigerator and tear off a piece that is approximately the size of a walnut.  Pat the small piece of dough into the tart pan using your fingers.  The dough should be uniformly 1/16th inch to an 1/8th inch thick across the surface of the tart pan.  Be mindful to create a nice even edge at the top of the pan.

6.  Place 8-10 filled tart pans on a rimmed baking sheet lined with a piece of parchment paper and slide them in the oven for 12-15 minutes or until they are light golden brown in color.

7.  Remove the baking sheet from the oven and allow tart shells to cool before handling.  Once they are cool enough to touch, tip them upside down and remove the tart shell from the pan.  This may take a little help from your fingers and by tapping and/or wiggling the pan a little to loosen the tart shell from the sides, all the while being mindful of the fact that the tart shells are fragile.  This may take a little practice.  Let the tart shells cool upside down on a wire baking rack.  Repeat with remaining tart pans, baking 8-10 on a baking sheet at a time.  Fill (or don’t fill) as desired.

*These tart shells freeze beautifully.  Put any tart shells that you are not immediately eating or filling in a freezer bag and consume at your leisure.

Shall We Fika?


To truly fika requires a commitment to making time for a break in your day, the creation of a magical moment in the midst of the routine and the mundane.

Fika, Anne Brones and Johanna Kindvall

At its very essence, the Swedish term “fika” (pronounced fee-ka) means to take a break and enjoy a cup of coffee and possibly a delicious baked good to go with it.  Fika can be a noun (it’s time for fika) or it can be used as a verb (shall we fika?).  But to simply call it a coffee break as we understand that term in English would be missing the point.  The tradition of fika runs deep in Sweden.  Life in structured to accommodate fika, even in the workplace, and the expectation of a midday opportunity to stop what you are doing and enjoy a cup of coffee and a treat is something that is anticipated and enjoyed as a part of daily life.

Fika is not something you do in front of a computer screen or as you scroll through social media on your phone.  It is meant to be a sacred pause in the day, an opportunity to rest, reconnect and nourish ourselves.  One can fika with others, strengthening our relationships with friends, coworkers and family over coffee and conversation.  One can also fika alone, nurturing the relationship with the self instead.  The particulars are entirely up to you…coffee or tea, treat or no treat, alone or with company.  What matters most is that you pause, unplug and enjoy a momentary respite from the day.

Spicy Olive Bread or We Do Not Recommend Mixing this Dough by Hand


But little by little,

As you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own                                                                                                                             

-Mary Oliver, The Journey


I am an excellent rule follower, and what is a recipe if not a list of rules?  Precise instructions that, if followed, will produce a delicious outcome.  As I set out to make this Spicy Olive Bread, I read the headnote to the recipe.  The last line grabbed my attention….We do not recommend mixing this dough by hand.  Oh, okay.  I obediently began setting up my KitchenAid mixer.  Suddenly I stopped and thought, but wait.  I want to mix this dough by hand!  Getting my hands in the dough is pure sensory joy!  And then the part of me that wants everything to turn out perfectly said, but it might not turn out if you don’t follow the instructions.

It might not turn out if I don’t follow the instructions.  

How often do we disregard our own desires and inner knowing simply because it’s not the proven path of success?  We are hard-wired to follow the those familiar voices outside of ourselves claiming they know what’s best for us.  “Get married and have children”, they might say, or “get a secure, stable job with a good company” or maybe they are simply pointing out that whatever it is that you are longing to do “isn’t practical” or “won’t work out”.

But if you are listening, you’ll know what to do.  You will pour the water over the flour, yeast and salt and with a great deal of courage, you will slide your sacred, beautiful hands into the mixture.  They were meant for this.  You will feel the soft flour between your fingers and the cool water in the palm of your hand as you gently mix everything together.  You will forget the voices for a moment as you remove the wet dough from the bowl, slop it onto the counter and begin to knead.  Clumsily at first, perhaps, and undoubtedly with a great deal of sticking and mess.  Just as it should be.

A small risk taken, to be sure, but practicing courage in the small gestures of our lives not only can create a gorgeous loaf of hand-made bread, but also an authentic life lived with soul and intention.

Spicy Olive Bread

(adapted from Bread Illustrated by America’s Test Kitchen)

This is a very lively yet rustic sandwich loaf that packs a spicy, olive-y punch.  I highly recommend this bread toasted and topped with a little cream cheese, salami, arugula and a drizzle of olive oil.  

3 cups  (16 1/2 ounces) bread flour

2 teaspoons instant yeast

2 teaspoons red pepper flakes

1 1/3 cups (10 2/3 ounces) water, room temperature

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

3/4 cup pitted olives (I used a mix of black and green greek olives from the Whole Foods olive bar), rinsed, patted dry with paper towels and coarsely chopped

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 teaspoons salt

1.  Whisk flour, yeast and red pepper flakes together in a large mixing bowl.  Combine water, sugar and olive oil in a separate bowl until sugar has dissolved.  Hold back the salt for now.

2.  Pour the water mixture over the dry mixture and with your very clean hands (I usually just use one hand at this stage) gently mix the wet and dry ingredients until they are just combined. Cover with a towel or plastic wrap and let rest for 20 minutes.

3.  While dough is resting, combine olives and garlic in a small bowl.  Set aside.

4.  Sprinkle salt over dough and fold the dough in and over on itself, encasing the salt inside the dough.   Remove dough from the bowl and place it on a clean counter.  The dough will be sticky.  Resist the urge to add more flour.  Sticky is okay.  Using a metal bench scraper as needed, pick the dough up from one end holding it by your thumb and forefingers, pincer style.  The dough will be hanging down toward the counter, probably threatening to ooze back down into a blob.   In a quick, sure motion, slap the dough back down onto the counter with a hearty whack, as if the dough were a beaver tail slapping the water.   And then, using your bench scraper, fold the dough back over on itself.  Repeat the process until the dough starts to develop strength and seems more cohesive.  This may take 5 minutes or so.  This is fun!  Enjoy the process.*

5.  Towards the end of the kneading process, begin adding the olive and garlic mixture as you slap and fold, slap and fold.  Your olives will try to escape but be persistent!  They will fully incorporate themselves given enough time and kneading.

6.  Once the dough has developed strength and formed a cohesive ball, return to the bowl and cover with plastic wrap.  Let rest 45 minutes.

7.  Uncover dough and, leaving it in the bowl this time.  Use the same pincer finger grasp to pick up a corner of the dough, stretching it up and then folding it back down to touch the other side.  Rotate bowl slightly and repeat process 5 more times.  This is a process known as “folding” the dough.  You just completed one fold.

8.  Let rest 45 minutes and than fold the dough again as described above.  Let rest for 45 minutes.

9.  Transfer dough to a lightly floured counter.  Pat into a round shape about 8 inches in diameter.  Begin folding the edges toward the center creating a ball.  Secure into a seam at the center  This side of the dough where the edges are all gathered is known as the seam side of the loaf.

10.  Flip the dough seam side down and cupping your hands around the ball, use the tension of the counter top and pull the ball toward you while turning it ever so slightly.  Repeat, rotating the ball and gentling pulling it towards you until you’ve created a round, taut shape, keeping the seam side down facing the counter.  Sometimes I will start the dough ball in a more floury part of the counter top and then move it to a less floury area to do the shaping.  A counter top with too much flour will not provide the tension you need to create a taut surface on your dough.  When you are finished, the dough should be smooth and tight in appearance on the top.**

11.  Lightly grease a 16 x 12 piece of parchment and transfer the loaf seam side down to center of parchment.

12.  Using the parchment as a sling, set loaf gently in a bowl, basket or large colander and cover with lightly greased plastic.  Let rise until dough rises by about half and the dough springs back slowly when poked gently with your finger.  Depending on the temperature of your kitchen, this will take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour.

13.  Meanwhile, place a baking stone on bottom rack of oven, and place a Dutch oven with lid on top of baking stone.  Preheat to 450 degrees.

14.  Using a sharp paring knife or a lame (or a razor blade), score the top of your bread with a cross shape, about 5 inches long in each direction and 1/2 inch deep.

15.  When dough is ready and oven is preheated, carefully remove the pot from oven and remove lid.  Using your parchment as a sling again, carefully lower the parchment and loaf into the pot.  Replace lid, place back in oven and bake for 20 minutes.

16.  Remove pot from oven and carefully using the sling and mitts to protect your hands, lift loaf out of the Dutch oven by using the parchment sling and place onto a peel.  Using the peel, transfer parchment and loaf directly onto the pizza stone in the oven and bake for 20 minutes.

17.  Using peel, remove loaf from oven and transfer to a wire cooling rack.  Remove parchment.  Let cool before serving.

Recipe Notes:

*For a good read on how to knead wet dough and a link to a YouTube video that demonstrates this technique, check out this King Arthur Flour blog post.  It is an excellent tutorial on the subject.

**For a short tutorial on how to shape your dough into a ball as described in Step 10, watch this YouTube video.