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I have been dying to try this recipe for No-Knead Bread for several weeks now. Since I'm hosting a cookie exchange for which I'm making artichoke spinach dip, I thought it might be a good time to try it out. I found another, almost identical, recipe on a blog with pictures, which helped me to know what I was supposed to do. Yeast dough was scary! So I steeled myself and went for it.

My first loaf (there are currently two more in the oven) turned out very well, considering I added more water than I was supposed to. Y'see, I have this thing about losing count when I'm measuring and pouring at once. Anyway, the loaf came out beautifully rustic and I wish I'd taken a picture of it before we cut into it.

Caleb, Bryan, and I devoured half of the loaf with dinner. The rest I wrapped up in wax paper for tomorrow. Meanwhile, I searched and found a variation for making a no-knead raisin bread. I actually just used it as an inspiration (folded in some brown sugar and raisins, and I realized too late I had forgotten to put cinnamon in the bread! So I figure I'll make some cinnabutter to serve with it and it will still be tasty.

I just had to pause to uncover the pots of bread in the oven. For the raisin bread I used my biggest Corningware squarish casserole dish with a glass lid, which I think said 3.5 quarts on the rim. The regular white bread is in a round Calphalon 6-quart pot with metal lid. That's also what I used on my first attempt.

The shape of the bread reminds me somewhat of the round bread my mom got at Safeway that had tomatoes baked into the top of it. I suppose the raisin bread will have a different shape, but hopefully the texture will be unchanged by the addition of the brown sugar and raisins. I did also put some sugar on top to give it a sort of glaze. This time I will not neglect to photograph my tasty trophies.

*My dear friend who can't drink or eat milk products will be happy to note that there is not one single molecule of milk in this bread.

Side note: I have this love for bread that goes deeper than tastebuds. I suspect it stems from my early childhood, when I lived in a house with my mom and older sister (and our sweet housekeeper/nanny) in Lima. Our neighbor was a neighborhood bakery, which has as enormous a place in my memories as a little girl could give it more than two decades ago.