
Chef Thomas
A Proper White Tin Loaf
A simple white loaf made from flour, water, yeast, and salt. The kind of bread that fills the kitchen with the smell of a Saturday morning and teaches you, slowly, everything you need to know about baking.
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Created by Chef Thomas
A proper British bloomer, slashed deep and baked until the cuts open wide and the crust turns deep, glossy gold. The kind of loaf that makes the rest of the day feel deliberate.
There's a particular smell that comes out of an oven when bread is nearly done. Warm, yeasty, faintly nutty, with something almost sweet underneath. It fills the whole house and makes everyone in it slightly hungrier than they were a minute ago. This is the smell of a Saturday morning that's gone right.
A bloomer is the loaf I come back to. Not sourdough with its rituals and starters, not enriched brioche or anything that asks for milk and eggs and patience I don't always have. Just flour, water, yeast, salt, and a hot oven. The shape is freeform, oval, fat in the middle, slashed across the top so the cuts bloom open as it bakes. The name comes from those cuts. Look at a finished loaf and you'll see why.
I make one most weekends, sometimes more, and the kitchen always feels better for it. It's the kind of bread that turns Tuesday's cheese into a proper lunch, that makes a soup feel like a meal, that you tear straight from the loaf and eat warm with butter while standing at the counter pretending you'll save the rest. Trust your nose. It knows when the loaf is done before any timer does.
We're only making bread. But there are few better feelings than putting a warm loaf on the table and watching someone reach for the knife.
Quantity
500g
plus extra for dusting
Quantity
10g
Quantity
7g
Quantity
320ml
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1
beaten, for glazing
Quantity
1 tablespoon
for the top
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| strong white bread flourplus extra for dusting | 500g |
| fine sea salt | 10g |
| fast-action dried yeast | 7g |
| lukewarm water | 320ml |
| olive oil | 1 tablespoon |
| eggbeaten, for glazing | 1 |
| poppy seeds (optional)for the top | 1 tablespoon |
Tip the flour into a large bowl. Add the salt to one side and the yeast to the other. Salt and yeast aren't friends until the flour is between them, so keep them apart for a moment. Pour in the olive oil and most of the water, holding back a splash. Bring it together with your hand, working in circles around the bowl until you have a shaggy, slightly sticky dough. Add the rest of the water if it feels dry. Bread flour drinks more some days than others.
Tip the dough onto a lightly oiled surface and knead for ten minutes. Push it away with the heel of your hand, fold it back, turn it a quarter, push again. Find a rhythm. The dough starts rough and tacky and slowly turns smooth, elastic, almost satiny. When you can stretch a small piece between your fingers and see light through it before it tears, you're done. If it tears straight away, give it another two minutes.
Shape the dough into a loose ball and put it back in the bowl. Cover with a damp tea towel or a plate and leave it somewhere warmish for an hour and a half, maybe two. It should double in size and feel pillowy when you press a finger into it. The dent should spring back slowly, not bounce straight out. A cool kitchen will take longer. There's no rush.
Tip the risen dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knock it back gently, just a few presses to release the big air bubbles. Pat it into a rough rectangle, about the size of a sheet of paper. Roll it up tightly from the long edge, pinching the seam as you go, then tuck the ends under. You want a fat, oval log with a smooth, taut top. Place it seam-side down on a baking tray lined with parchment.
Cover the shaped loaf loosely with the tea towel and leave it to rise again for forty-five minutes to an hour. It should look puffed and slightly wobbly, about half again as big as it started. While it proves, heat the oven to 220C/200C fan. Put a roasting tin on the bottom shelf to heat at the same time.
Brush the top of the loaf gently with the beaten egg. This is what gives the bloomer its deep, glossy crust. Scatter the poppy seeds over if you're using them. Now the slashing. Take a very sharp knife or a razor blade and make four or five deep diagonal cuts across the top, about a centimetre deep. Be confident. Hesitant cuts don't bloom; they just look sad.
Slide the tray into the oven. Pour a small jug of cold water into the hot roasting tin at the bottom and shut the door quickly. The burst of steam is what gives a bloomer its proper crust. Bake for thirty to thirty-five minutes, until the loaf is deep golden brown, the cuts have opened wide, and the bottom sounds hollow when you tap it. If it's browning too fast, turn the heat down a touch in the last ten minutes.
Lift the loaf onto a wire rack and let it cool for at least half an hour before you cut into it. I know. The smell is unfair. But cutting a hot loaf squashes the crumb and lets all the steam out at once, and you'll regret it. Wait. Make a cup of tea. The bread will still be warm when you come back.
1 serving (about 65g)
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