Bread of heaven

500g high-gluten flour

20g rosemary

20g thyme

3 cloves of garlic, peeled and very finely chopped

250ml warm water at blood temperature

15g salt

10g sugar

17g fresh yeast

30g olive oil (measure on scales into a small cup)

Part 2

50ml water

40ml olive oil

1. To cook the bread you will need a tray which is up to two inches deep (a bit less is fine) and measuring about a foot square; a little larger will also be fine. Working with the ingredients from part 1, pick the leaves from the thyme and rosemary and chop them. Place one-third of them with the ingredients for part 2 and use the remaining two-thirds for part 1. Combine all the dry ingredients in one bowl and then in a separate bowl combine the wet ingredients together, whisking to blend briefly. Make a well in the centre of the bowl containing the dry ingredients, then pour all the wet mix into the well in the middle of the dry ingredients. Work the liquid into the dry mix with your fingertips until a dough begins to form.

2. Knead for 10 to 15 minutes so the dough is strong and elastic. Roll into a ball and place in a bowl that is big enough to allow the dough to grow and prove. Cover with cling film, then place in a warmish place, leave to prove and rise for one hour.

3. Turn the dough out onto a clean table and knead briefly, about two minutes is fine. Stretch into a suitable shape to fit the baking tray you are using, keeping the dough to a thickness of about 2 cms.

4. Use your fingertips to make impressions all over the surface of the dough like mini craters. Mix together the ingredients for part 2, remembering to add the reserved herbs. Now pour the mix all over the surface of the dough. Bake in a preheated oven at 180°c (Gas mark 4) for 25 minutes or until golden across the surface and cooked all the way through. Tip onto a cooling rack to cool. To serve, cut into fingers and either eat as it is or grill it or char it on a barbecue or in a griddle pan. It can also be cut into pieces and frozen if carefully wrapped in cling film.

Lebanese-style flat bread

The dry goods:

400g high-gluten flour

12g fresh yeast

A good pinch of salt and sugar

The wet goods:

250ml warm water

8g butter

8g olive oil

1. Place all the dry goods in a large bowl and mix well together. Mix the wet ingredients together in a separate bowl and whisk to combine them. Now make a well in the centre of the dry goods and pour the liquid into the well. Work the liquid into the flour mixture with your fingertips and then, when totally combined, work the dough with your hands, kneading it for 8 to 10 minutes. If necessary adjust the consistency by adding more flour if too clingy and sticky or a dash of water if it is dry and crumbly.

2. Once you have kneaded the dough roll into a ball and place in a bowl which allows space for rising. Cover with cling film and leave in a warm place then allow to prove for 80 to 90 minute.

3. Turn the dough out onto a table surface and knead briefly again for a minute or two. Stretch out or roll out the dough into long fingers about 3 inches wide, you can either make a few large breads for slicing or make several smaller ones.

4. Place each finger onto a tray lined with parchment paper and bake in a pre-heated oven at 180°c (Gas mark 4) for around 5 minutes or until golden and firm. Either serve the bread at once or allow to cool and re-warm as needed. Delicious with humus or herb dips or as a sandwich base.

Man cannot live on bread alone, but I reckon I could give it a pretty good stab. Crusty white rolls, soft yielding wholemeal loaves, the crunch of a baguette being torn open, the dark sweetness of rye bread, the firmness of tangy sourdough: I adore them all. Even that forgotten slice of toast which has turned cold and rubbery is acceptable to me, provided, of course, there is plenty of butter. Butter is definitely part of the deal.

I am taunted by the smell of baking daily at work as we prepare different breads for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Perhaps it is because you can’t rush the measuring of flour – not without making either a mess or a mistake – but the softness of flour on the hands as ingredients get weighed is somehow restful. The one drawback is that bread-making usually involves waiting for the dough to rise and at this time of year, I prefer to get out of the kitchen, not stuck in it. Thinner varieties like focaccia and pitta solve that dilemma: the proving time is far less than for traditional breads. I pile my sliced focaccia with shallots, anchovy and parsley for a gutsy Mediterranean feast, and pitta can either be filled for instant sandwiches or cut into fingers with a dip. “Bread”, so the adage goes, “is the warmest, kindest of all words. Write it always with a capital letter, like your own name.”