Truth be told, I don't really know what Prairie Bread technically is, other than the loaf fittingly named, "Prairie Bread" that we've gotten at Whole Foods before. So, I'm going with the understanding that it's homemade, wholesome bread, stuffed with nuts and seeds and love... but mostly nuts and seeds.
I was unable to find a recipe that didn't involve the bread maker (which is decidedly against the whole point of homesteading / DIY kitchen / this chapter in my book, so I tweaked some things and combined some thoughts, and will include the one I'm using. The Weekend Homesteader (TWH, for short? It needs some quirky nickname... will think on that one) walked me through the process, starting with gathering my ingredients.
Next, we "proofed" our yeast, which seems like an excuse for the yeast to get all hot and bothered with the sugar until it foams up and consumes it like a monster out of a fifties Blob-esque movie. For my recipe, the role of the sugar was played by honey, because honey with wholesome and delicious and I said so. Plus, someday I'll have bees, and how cool will it "beeee" to "beeee" able to bake bread using honey from my own beeeeeees? So, foamy Blob yeast.
While it proofed, I measured out everything else, creating this lovely archeological sampling of flours and flaxes.
Then we (note the use of the Royal We, as it is only me, but we sounds more inclusive, and maybe someday you'll read through this while on your own journey of bread-making, and then it will be us together doing it, so weeeeee!) mixed everything together. TWH recommends mixing everything together except the last cup of flour, since that'll take extra strong-arming to incorporate. Once mixed, we knead!
According to TWH, we knead to allow the gluten from the flour proteins to form into long strands, allowing our bread to tear along lines, unlike muffins, which simply crumble. (Muffins are decidedly un-sexy foods to eat, if you haven't noticed. You can't eat it all in one bite, but each bite further reduces the muffin to a crumbly disaster, so I've found muffins are best eaten alone or in the car when it can be furtively stuffed down one's throat in three and a half bites, and there're no witnesses to the crumbs stuck in your eyebrows and down your shirt.)
Usually, when I've made bread before (okay, the two times I've made bread before), I use the dough hook attachment on my stand mixer and wander off until the blog grows up and over the hook or down the side of the bowl. This seemed to be out of character for the project, though, so I (metaphorically) threw my mixing spoon aside and (literally) rolled up my sleeves, turned the dough out onto my board, and started kneading.
It was at this point that I realized I'd entirely neglected to mix in my nuts and seeds, which I'd measured out and set aside for picture-taking purposes. Oh, vanity... My elegant solution was to try to knead them into the dough.
However, two turns in, and the pocket of seeds exploded out of the dough and all over the table. The rest of my kneading time included sticking the seeds in whenever I saw an opening, like I was planting a garden in my loaf of bread.
So we're kneading for five minutes, letting the dough rest for five to ten minutes, and then kneading for five more minutes. Apparently, letting the dough relax allows the water to work into the flour, making it less sticky and of a better texture. Delight! In reality, my arms were tired and I needed to wash out my mixing bowl so the dough would have somewhere to rise, so resting was a win for everyone.
Now the dough rises for an hour, so I set my timer, and abandoned my little dough baby on top of the oven, hoping for it to magically double, proving my prairie prowess and vindicating the agility of my hopefully-not-expired-yeast.
An hour later, my dough had (sorta) risen, so we greased up the loaf pan and shaped the little dough baby into a little loaf baby before abandoning it to rise again. (We rise again! Like the South after the Great War, the British after alllll the Wars, and Ryan after trying to pull-up on the couch.)
An hour later (again...), the loaf was ready for the oven! In it went, at 325, for 15 minutes. And then...
Bread! "Ed! Ed! Ed!" The whole house smells like a bakery, which is like my dream, and the bread turned out gorgeous. The seeds and nuts are (surprisingly) well-dispersed, and it's got a great chewiness (cheers to gluten!). Truth be told, it probably could've used a few more minutes in the oven to fully brown, but I was impatient and it's still delicious. I'm lucky enough to get to slather mine with raspberry butter a friend made us for Christmas! (Raspberry Butter, folks. Who knew??)
Overall takeaway? Well, I could've driven to Whole Foods and back six and a half times in the amount of time we spent rising (and rising again), but nothing compares to the feeling of pulling sustenance out of your own oven that you crafted with your own hands. (Queue Tom Hanks in Cast Away making fire on the beach. "Look what I have created!!! I have made BREAD! I. Have. Made. BREAD!") Now you go try.
Recipe:
1. Combine yeast, water, and honey, allow to sit until foamy and Blobbed.
2. Mix in the rest of everything (including the nuts and seeds!!!), reserving 1 cup flour.
3. Add in last cup of flour, while cursing the dough for being resistant to accepting said cup of flour.
4. Knead, rest, knead.
5. Allow to rise for an hour or until doubled in size or until you give up.
6. Punch dough and shape into greased loaf pan (whoops, don't forget to grease your loaf pan), releasing trapped air compliments of foamy yeast and your frustrations at waiting another hour.
7. Wait another hour.
8. Preheat oven to 350, then bake for about fifteen minutes. (But it should really by 20)
9. Let cool, if you can manage to resist the smell. Slather with an inappropriate amount of butter, and furtively enjoy with as few witnesses as possible.
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