I’m not a fan of the lazy bread movement. All the no-knead breads that are so in vogue right now for me miss the basic fun of breadmaking, not to mention the satisfaction. I enjoy taking the time to plan my bread formula, mix the ingredients, knead the dough, allow the dough to rise for as long as it needs and to bake the bread in a pre-heated hearth set up. Using natural yeast only prolongs this process. But it also makes the final bread feel more like your own.

Good bread takes time. It can take up to three days from start to finish to make a loaf of my standard wild-yeast bread, from refreshing the starter to waiting for the yeast to decide to rise to finally getting the loaves out of the oven. That’s fine if you’ve planned ahead, but what happens when it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and you need bread that night? Even No-Knead bread uses an overnight rest in the refrigerator to develop gluten. Some people might reasonably say, “you go buy some,” but I have managed to develop a pretty strong guilt complex about buying bread. Instead, inspired by this post at The Paupered Chef (via Serious Eats) I decided to test the limits of lazy, carefree bread with focaccia in less than three hours.

Focaccia is a rustic bread, which means it should be made from very wet dough. My target hydration was 80% and I wanted to use 16 oz of flour, so I was looking for 12.8 oz of water, which I rounded to 12 3/4 oz due to limitations of my scale. After whisking my pound of flour with about a teaspoon and a half of salt and two teaspoons of instant yeast, I added in my water and stirred to combine. The dough looked like this:

At this point the dough would probably have benefited from some kneading. This could easily be done in a stand mixer (as in the Cook’s Illustrated ciabatta recipe) or, less easily, by stirring with a strong arm. But since I was shooting for lazy I left it like that, covered the bowl and put it in the oven, where I figured the pilot light would give my best chance of a rapid rise. I headed to the store to get the rest of dinner.

The oven rising worked wonderfully; in about an hour the dough looked ready to pan. I spread a thick layer of olive oil in a smallish sheet pan and pressed the dough out. At this point, it was behaving like any other dough, albeit a very wet one.

After about another hour the dough was looking bubbly and puffy, like focaccia should. I had already preheated my oven to 450° with my stone in place. For toppings, I decided to follow the Paupered Chef and use parsley, as well as sea salt and a lot of olive oil.

After 25 minutes in the oven (about two and a half hours since I began the project) it was golden brown and crispy. I let it cool for a half hour and then it was ready to slice and eat.

How was it? Well, definitely not bad. All the olive oil I used ensured that it had a crunchy, crackly crust as well as big flavor. The texture was pretty solid but not as chewy as I would have liked. This was pretty obviously going to happen since it was never kneaded nor really allowed to rest; the gluten never stood a chance. You can see the lack of gluten development in the crumb, which is extremely tight for such a wet dough. If I had kneaded or rested this more, there would be the nice big holes that I like so well. But I just didn’t have enough time to make this bread perfectly, and for three hours from flour to mouth on a lazy Sunday, I’ll take it.

Despite the impression you might get from reading this blog, sometimes I don’t feel like cooking. Luckily, I have a lot of options: I can go out or Martha might cook. Or hot dogs.

Hot dogs are not all that exciting, but that is no reason not to try a beer pairing—in fact it’s a great reason to try a beer pairing! Beer is such a great beverage because is that it is fit for the feasts of kings and peasants alike.

A trip to Trader Joe’s yielded the night’s beer: Samuel Smith’s Old Brewery Pale Ale. Since I had just finished the chapter in The Brewmaster’s Table on British beers it was the perfect bottle to try.

Here are Garret Oliver’s notes on this particular brew:

…a copper-colored beer with a big fluffy head. There’s that Yorkshire nose—hay, apples, butterscotch, and hops. The beer hits the palate with a mineral tang, then softens and rounds out to a dry biscuity malt enter. The finish is clean and flinty. This beer is big enough for steak, juicy enough for roast beef, and subtle enough for lamb. I also enjoy it with terrine en croûte, as do the British, though terrine en croûte sounds a lot better than “pork pie.”

Copper color, fluffy head, check.

Pork pie, huh? That’s basically a hot dog. Actually, the hot dogs are all beef, but it sounds like this beer is up for anything. Even harissa? I slathered some on my bun along with  some of the excellent Trader Joe’s Dijon and then sprinkled on some relish and raw onions because, after all, this was a hot dog.

The pairing worked pretty well. The affinity was mostly due to the beer’s carbonation’s ability to break through the spicy harissa. I also thought the smokiness of the hotdogs was pleasant when contrasted with the slight fruitiness of the ale. I was pretty surprised after finishing my hot dog that as I was drinking the last of my beer I noticed a very strong taste of licorice. I’m not sure if it would have helped the hot dog at all but I was excited to be able to actually identify this very specific flavor on the beer.