Dark Rye Bread

So over the course of the past several weeks, I've developed a blog friendship with a gorgeous girl in California, Lauren being her name.  Blogging has introduced me to a whole new world of fellow foodies, and I've found connection through sharing recipes and stories of kitchen successes and failures.  These fellow bloggers live all around the country and the world, which has introduced me to regional cuisines and creative recipes that I otherwise would have never heard of.  What a bizarre and beautiful world we live in.

(Slightly reminds me of my middle-school days of internet chat rooms, but I won't digress into a lengthy retelling of creepy cyber interaction...really, what were we thinking?)

But back to Lauren...Lauren and I both studied English as undergraduates, are both in relationships with boys ( I mean, men) named Ryan, and both love to bake and cook.  So much in common, I know!  She's hilarious, and I am able to vicariously shop at Farmer's Markets by reading her posts.  Over the course of our blog friendship, we've reached the conclusion that we need to go into business together.  She wants to start a sandwich shop (local, organic ingredients, fresh cut cheese and meats) and I'm going to supply the bread and baked goods.  It, of course, will be fabulous, and we'll make a killing.  Where and when?  Maybe only in our dreams, but you never know what can happen. 

So due to our unfolding business plan, I've been experimenting with a variety of bread recipes.  I've been working on a dark rye bread for a few weeks now, and I finally found a loaf worth sharing.  Click on the link below the picture to read more.    

This loaf was a bit of a fluke in that I accidentally added twice as much cocoa powder as the original recipe called for (I was talking to my sister on the phone, and became a bit distracted).  So instead of a light rye...this loaf turned a dark, chocolate brown.  But alas, we loved the deep, rich flavor, and the bread reminded Ryan and me of the loaves they serve at Outback, the ones that come out on a wooden board, unsliced and married with a big glob of cinnamon butter. 

The loaf rose beautifully, which is always a good start to an afternoon of bread baking, and the house smelled like deli heaven (if such a place exists).  Even though I don't eat meat, I began to drool thinking about how good a pastrami sandwich would taste on two toasted slices of this bread.  Ryan and I are going to NYC in a few weeks, and I'm sure that while I'm there, I will have the opportunity to taste an authentic Jewish Rye bread.  I won't say that this recipe is anything like the traditional, but it's very good, and will definitely be served at our sandwich shop.   

So Lauren...it's your responsibility to come up with a fabulous combination of locally grown produce, high-quality cheese, and perhaps a few slices of meat to throw on top of this bread.  I have complete faith in your flavor matching skills, and even more faith in your ability to create a kick-ass name for our sandwich.  Go give her blog a visit...you won't regret it, and read below for the recipe.    

Dark Rye Bread
1 package active dry yeast
1 1/4 cups of warm water (just barely warm to the touch)
1/3 cup molasses or honey
2.5 cups bread flour
1 cup rye flour
1/2 tablespoon salt
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup cocoa powder
2 Tbsp caraway seeds (optional)

1.  In a small bowl, combine 1/4 cup of water, active dry yeast, and 1 TBSP of honey.  Allow to sit and become creamy and foamy (about 10  minutes).
2.  In a large bowl (preferably attached to your stand mixer), combine whole wheat flour, rye flour, milk, honey, oil, salt and cocoa powder.  Pour your yeast mixture over top and using either a wooden spoon or the paddle attachment, stir to combine.  A shaggy dough should form. 
3.  If using your stand mixer, proceed to attach your dough hook and knead for 5-8 minutes, adding more flour or water if necessary.  Your dough should be smooth and slighlty tacky (but not sticky).  If baking by hand, turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes. 
4.  Place your dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rise in a warm place for 1 hour (or until doubled in size).  I like to turn my oven to WARM while I'm preparing the dough, I turn the oven off, open the door, and let my dough rise in the warm oven. 
5.  After initial rise, punch dough and move to a  floured surface.  Shape your dough into a log form and place in a lightly greased loaf pan (8 x 4 is my personal preference).  Cover with a damp towel or use a plastic bag to create a "balloon" (see picture below) and allow loaf to rise for an additional 40-60 minutes.  Your bread should crest about an inch above the rim. 
6.  Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 35-45 minutes or until an instant read thermometer measures 190 degrees.  Turn bread out of pan, and allow to cool completely on a wired rack (at least an hour).   

Inflate a fruit/vegetable bag to help your loaf proof