flaky is a word that has something of a split
personality. the jekyll and hyde of
adjectives; context, when it comes to flake, is key. as a character trait? unacceptable.
(and immediately gets you disinvited from any of my future parties.) as a physical ailment? ack.
get thy dermatologist on the phone.
but switch that context to food, and now we’re talking. pastries, croissants, biscuits and
shortbread… these things proudly wear
the description “flaky” like a medal placed around their necks by princess leia,
as they nod sagely and wink at each other to the tune of inspiring john
williams music and wookie roars.
(tangent: i would like to take this moment, by the way, to
apologise to the entire cinema full of people watching star wars back in the
70’s to whom i stood up and loudly declared that Chewbacca, despite what they
might think, was in fact NOT a teddy bear.
repeat: not. who the f invited
the dorky kid with the big brown spectacles who thinks she wrote the damn movie??
rude.)
back to flaky. the
good kind. later in my childhood, when
perhaps less precocious with wookie-recognition practices, and thanks to the
handy fact of my parents moving to asia, i was introduced to the wonder that is
roti. a buttery, layered flatbread that
is whipped up on street corners, whirled around in a way that would make pizza
dough weep, then seared quickly on a flat top that ripples blistering heat through
the already steamy air, it was a quick and inevitable falling into love for
this girl. bought for practically a
tuppence ha’penny, the roti was used to scoop up lentil curries and coconut
chutney from a banana leaf used in place of a plate. the rich, buttery bread perfectly countered
the acid and chile in the curries and condiments (christ, i’m suddenly
ravenous), and your mouth sang with myriad flavours and spices. truly, a breakfast of champions.
when i read the recipe for “flaky bread” in bon appetit a
few months ago, i knew it wouldn’t be quite the same as the roti i remembered
from my youth, but good god if it was even close, it was worth a shot. the recipe sounded somewhat tricky. faffy, if you will. the death star loomed perilously close and admiral ackbar muttered something about it being a trap, but i decided, screw it. if only for that
little girl whose first crush was han solo (i loved him. he knew), i would bloody well give it a
shot. someone hand me a spatula. it’s time to use the force.
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flaky (in the best possible way) bread (adapted from bon appetit)
1 tsps kosher salt
3 cups flour (plus more for dusting & whatnot)
6 tbs unsalted butter, melted (plus a couple more for
brushing)
whisk salt and 3 cups of flour in a large bowl and mix in 6
tbs melted butter. slowly mix in ¾ cup
water and mix well.
turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for
roughly 5 mins. at first it will be very
dry and separate, but it should come together quite quickly, and soon be shiny,
soft and supple (that’s what she said).
wrap dough tightly in cling wrap and let dough rest in a warm spot for
at least 4 hours. go to spa, get hot
stone massage and relax in steam room for a while. return refreshed and ready for the next step.
divide dough into 10 pieces and roll into balls. cover dough balls with cling wrap and
let rest for 15 minutes.
working one piece at a time, roll dough out with a rolling pin onto an
unfloured surface into very thin rounds (about 8-9”
across).
note: this dough is crazy
springy, so the unfloured surface is important as it kind of grabs the dough
for you, letting you roll it out nice and thin.
i found the steel surface of my kitchen island perfect for this.
find an overly-dramatic, concentrating 5 year old to brush
the top with melted butter, then sprinkle with flaky (there’s that word again)
salt.
roll each round up into a fat
cigar, then wind the dough rope around itself into a tight coil.
yes, at this point you have seemingly created something
which you would expect a pastry-monster to leave behind. this is apparently hilarious to 8
year-olds. dinner AND a show.
roll the coil out once again on your unfloured surface until
about 1/8” thick. place on parchment
paper when done. repeat with remaining
pieces of dough, separating with parchment paper as you go.
at this point, you can tightly wrap with plastic and store
in the freezer for a later date. or, if
you are planning to drop some with well-deserving crime-fighting friends, or to
eat the whole damn batch yourself (mama don’t judge), progress to your stove…
heat a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. brush both sides of your dough round with the
remaining room-temperature butter, and cook around 2 minutes each side. the bread should be cooked through,
puffed-up, and lightly blistered.
transfer to a wire rack and sprinkle with salt.
so maybe you shan’t be eating these on a tropical street
corner, with banana leaves for plates, but they’re still bloody good. and maybe that’s okay if they’re a little
different. these are as good to sop up
curries as they are wrapped around some scrambled eggs and hot sauce, or even
stuffed with cuban pork and fresh cilantro.
tradition is a wonderful thing, but there’s also nothing wrong with a
little evolution. we take these things,
these recipes, these skills, these memories, and we make them our own. we move forward. we evolve.
and we promise to only be the best kind of flaky.
