Dutch Oven No Knead Crusty Bread
Updated: Aug 18
The second my mom bought me a Dutch oven, I decided I was entering my rustic homestead bread-bitch era. The problem? Bread can be a finicky little asshole.
So I started simple—and somehow the easiest damn recipe became one of my favorites. Crispy outside, soft and chewy inside, and stupidly good slathered in butter. Keep it plain or throw in garlic, herbs, cheese—whatever your carb-loving heart desires.
Fall is coming, and this bad mamajama is about to be in HEAVY rotation.
INGREDIENTS:
1 1/2 cups warm water (about 100 degrees)
2 1/4 tsp active dry, instant or quick rise yeast (or 1 packet)
1/2 fine grain salt (NOT IODIZED) - unless you like the taste of metal
3 1/4 cups bread flour (or all-purpose flour), plus more for dusting
DIRECTIONS:
Dutch Oven Crusty Bread: The Unhinged Directions
In a large bowl, whisk together 1½ cups warm water, 2¼ teaspoons yeast, and ½ teaspoon salt until everything is mostly dissolved. A whisk is my weapon of choice, but this is your kitchen—fight your battles however you see fit.
Dump in 3¼ cups flour all at once and stir until a sticky dough forms. It’s going to be messy, sticky, and mildly concerning. Much like some of my past relationships. Scrape down the sides and make sure all the flour is mixed in. This is also where you add any extras—garlic, rosemary, cheese, herbs, whatever makes your little bread-loving heart happy.
Cover the bowl with a kitchen towel and leave it somewhere warm for 2–3 hours, until the dough has doubled in size. Look at her growing and thriving. We love that for her.
If your oven has a proofing setting, congratulations on your tax bracket. For the rest of us unfancy bitches, warm the oven at 350°F for just a few minutes, TURN IT OFF, then put the covered bowl inside and shut the door to trap the warmth. And please don't put a plastic bowl in there. I cannot be responsible for your melted Tupperware.
About 30–60 minutes before baking, preheat your oven to 450°F with your Dutch oven and lid inside. Once the oven hits 450°F, let the Dutch oven heat for another 20 minutes. We want that bitch HOT.
Scrape your sticky little dough monster onto a floured piece of parchment paper. Shape it into something vaguely resembling a loaf. Use your hands, a spatula, your significant other—whatever gets the job done.
Flip the loaf over so the prettier side is facing up. Does it look a little wonky? Perfect. We call that rustic and suddenly it costs $9 at a farmers market.
Using a very sharp knife or bread lame, cut a few slits about ½ inch deep across the top. Keep it simple or get artistic. I personally enjoy unnecessarily complicating my life, so naturally I try to make mine fancy.
Carefully remove the screaming-hot Dutch oven and take off the lid using OVEN MITTS. The oven is 450°F. Let's make bread, not explain second-degree burns to the ER nurse. Grab the parchment by the sides and lower the loaf into the Dutch oven.
Put the lid back on and bake at 450°F for 35 minutes. Remove the lid—WITH THE OVEN MITTS, DEBRA—and bake another 5–10 minutes, or until she's beautifully golden brown and looking like she belongs on the cover of Better Homes & Bitches.
Once you're satisfied with your bread's glorious golden exterior, carefully remove the Dutch oven and place it on a heat-safe trivet or potholder. Your countertop has done nothing to deserve this kind of trauma.
Grab the parchment paper and carefully lift the bread out. Place it on a wire rack to cool.
AND NOW FOR THE HARDEST PART...
I know you want to immediately cut into that hot, crusty bastard because your entire house smells like a bakery and you've suddenly lost all self-control.
DON'T.
Let it cool for at least 30 minutes before slicing. Then cut yourself a giant piece and slather that sucker in GOOD butter.
Not the sad cheap butter.
You worked hard for these carbs. Show them some friggin' respect.
Take it. Make it. Pretend you invented it. I respect the hustle. Download here.
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