Swedish Rye Bread

Late January and the cold has settled in properly — not polar vortex, just steady bitter Chicago winter that you either make peace with or suffer through. I am making peace with it, as I do every year, partly by cooking things that require the oven to be on and partly by reminding myself that the lake in January has a wild beauty that the lake in July does not, and that the people who complain most about Chicago winters are the ones who never learned to look at them correctly.

I made a pasta bake this week — the kind where you cook the pasta halfway, toss it with sauce and cheese, and finish it in the oven so the top gets crispy and the inside stays soft. Italian sausage, rigatoni, crushed tomatoes, mozzarella and Parmesan, basil. One pan, maybe fifty-five minutes total including bake time, eight servings. Ryan ate it three nights in a row and on the third night said he could eat this every week. I said we practically do. He said he had not noticed. That is the difference between a cook and a person who eats the cooking.

Babcia Rose called Thursday. She asked how Ryan was and how school was and whether I had read a good book lately. She did not ask about the baby. I do not know if this was deliberate — if she decided to give me space this month — or if she forgot. Either way I appreciated it. The month the question does not come is sometimes exactly the right month to not have it come.

February is next week. February means Valentine Day and February means my father Steve birthday on the 12th and February means we are moving through winter toward something on the other side of it. I have always been good at February. Some people dread it. I have found that if you make something warm every day in February, you get through it without ever really suffering. The warm thing is the solution. It usually is.

I said the warm thing is the solution, and I meant it — but sometimes the warm thing takes a little longer than a pasta bake, and that is exactly the point. This Swedish Rye Bread is what I make when I want to feel like I am doing something deliberate with the cold, like I am using the long afternoon instead of just waiting through it. You mix it, you let it rise, you bake it, and the whole apartment smells like something that has been here a hundred winters before you and will be here a hundred winters after. That kind of bread belongs in February.

Prep Time: 25 min + 1 hr 30 min rise | Cook Time: 38 min | Total Time: ~2 hrs 35 min | Servings: 14 slices

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups warm water (105–110°F)
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (one standard packet)
2 tablespoons molasses
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
1 teaspoon fine salt
1 1/2 cups dark rye flour
1 1/2 cups bread flour, plus more for kneading
1 teaspoon caraway seeds (optional but traditional)
1 teaspoon vegetable oil, for bowl

Instructions

Proof the yeast. Combine warm water, yeast, and molasses in a large bowl. Stir gently and let stand 8–10 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast is old — start over with a fresh packet.
Build the dough. Add the softened butter and salt to the yeast mixture and stir. Add the rye flour and stir until incorporated. Add the bread flour and caraway seeds (if using) and mix until a shaggy dough forms.
Knead. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8–10 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky but not sticky. Rye dough is denser than white bread dough — it will not become fully elastic, and that’s fine.
First rise. Lightly oil the bowl, return the dough, and turn to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and set in a warm spot. Let rise until doubled, about 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes.
Shape. Punch the dough down. Shape into a tight oval loaf and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet (or into a greased 9x5-inch loaf pan). Cover loosely and let rise again for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 375°F.
Score and bake. Using a sharp knife, score the top of the loaf with two or three diagonal slashes about 1/2 inch deep. Bake 35–40 minutes until the loaf is deep brown and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. An instant-read thermometer should read 200°F at the center.
Cool before slicing. Transfer to a wire rack and cool at least 20 minutes before cutting. Slicing too early will compress the crumb. Worth the wait — it almost always is.

Nutrition (per serving)

Swedish Rye Bread — Something Warm for Every Day of February