Bread Recipes





From baguettes to naan, bread is a staple across the globe. It comes in many forms: leavened and not, flat and square, round and chewy—the list goes on. All bread has at least some sort of grain or flour as the main ingredient. Pumpernickel contains dark rye, sourdough has wheat, and corn bread is made of, what else, ground cornmeal. F&W’s guide is a window to the world’s bread options, with recipes from a variety of countries, techniques for making the best loaves and tips from master bakers.

Most Recent

Irish Lamb Pies with Herbs (Dingle Pies)

Dingle, or Kerry, pies are savory lamb pies, a specialty of the Dingle Peninsula in southwestern Ireland. Traditionally, the pastry crust was made with mutton fat; here, chef JP McMahon uses Irish butter and eggs to keep the crust tender, flaky, and sturdy.
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Basted Egg Tartines with Creamed Mustard

Sour cream adds milky richness to both Dijon and whole-grain mustards with a splash of lemon juice for brightness. This simple, creamy sauce pairs with lightly bitter greens and rich, runny egg yolks for a beautiful breakfast. Try leftover sauce on baked salmon.
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Lisa Donovan’s Pie Dough

Using a European-style butter with a higher butterfat percentage produces a super-flaky, tender, and flavorful crust. Donovan does not include sugar in her crust, but the high ratio of butter provides plenty of browning and flavor.
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Lisa Donovan’s Pie Dough

Using a European-style butter with a higher butterfat percentage produces a super-flaky, tender, and flavorful crust. Donovan does not include sugar in her crust, but the high ratio of butter provides plenty of browning and flavor.
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Earl Grey Tea Bread

Tea loaves have roots that branch out across Britain and Ireland, from Irish barmbrack to Welsh bara brith and Yorkshire tea bread. There are purists in all corners and plenty of debate about which version is best, but the basic premise remains the same wherever you go: strong tea is used to make a silky, only lightly sweet cake batter, often with spices, which is then baked into a hearty loaf with dried fruit. In this version, Earl Grey tea, along with the addition of a little orange zest, brings a welcome aromatic edge, which I’m especially fond of at this grey time of year. There’s no fat in this recipe, but please don’t think that this is out of any kind of ascetic virtue. Making a low-fat batter simply means that the crumb will be springier and more robust, and so able to withstand being sliced, toasted, and—wait for it—spread with a perfect, thick layer of butter before serving. Read Ruby Tandoh's essay on its importance in her personal life: The Beauty of Plain.
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More Bread + Dough

Two-Bite Parmesan Biscuits

These addictive biscuits are baked on a bed of grated Parmesan cheese, resulting in a crispy, cheesy crust around the bottom of each biscuit. Perfect on their own, try them drizzled with a bit of honey, or improvise by tossing a few handfuls of fresh thyme or chives into the dough to take them over the top. The dough can be prepped and frozen, making these an easy addition to a festive bread basket or for sandwiching a holiday ham. Keeping biscuit ingredients and dough extra cold ensures the loftiest rise.
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Buttermilk Cornbread

If you were to open the crackling pages of my great-great-grandmother’s ledger-style cookbook or thumb through the butter-stained entries in my great-grandmother’s tiny black recipe binder, you’d find exactly zero recipes for cornbread. For them, it wasn’t something you had to write down; you simply invited the requisite cast of characters to the bowl, stirred to reach the proper consistency, then baked until it was done. Making cornbread was a reflex, like breathing, an action their hands practiced with barely a passing thought. When I close my eyes, no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember seeing my grandmother, May, making cornbread. But memory readily serves up many images of my mother tackling the task: Her hand, insulated by a hard-living pot holder, pulling the hot skillet from the oven like a blacksmith drawing a sword forth from the forge. Her hurried pour of just-whisked batter into that lava-hot skillet. The satisfying sizzle as the batter hit the pan. Her sigh of relief after the oven door was shut: a task complete, second-degree burns avoided, the cornbread left to become itself. As a baked good, cornbread is relatively forgiving, generally tolerant of tinkering, and open to most inclinations of culinary mischief. She’ll allow for stir-ins like cheese and greens; she’s down for whatever seasonings you throw at her; she’s comfortable in just about any pan that’ll have her. That’s why I’m such a big fan of cornbread. As a creative cook who loves to bend the rules, I appreciate a recipe that can stand up to my whims and musings—and especially my missteps. It’s a baked good with inherent grace. However, there are exactly three rules I follow, without fail, every time I make cornbread. The first is that I preheat the cast-iron skillet in the oven to get it screaming hot. You want the batter to literally sizzle when you pour it in to achieve a crispy crust. But before you pour the batter in, there’s rule #2: Salt the skillet. My friend Lane Snider taught me this trick from his Granny Ollie—to fling a pinch (or two) of kosher salt into the hot skillet before pouring the batter in. This transforms the delightfully crispy (but sometimes bland) crust into a savory almost-cracker that you can’t get enough of … if you follow the final rule: Turn the cornbread out of the skillet immediately after baking, and let it cool bottom side up on a wire rack. Why? The crust, of course. If you let the cornbread cool in the skillet, it will steam. And every second it spends steaming robs you of that crispy crust you’ve worked so hard to create. So be a good cook, follow the rules, and protect the things you love. This recipe is an amalgamation of best practices across families and generations. It will keep its crunch and retain its structure if cubed and folded into a dressing for Thanksgiving (like my Cornbread Dressing with Buttery Sage Croutons). It’s also delicious all by itself. Well, with a pat of butter tucked between split slices, naturally. But most importantly, this recipe will politely indulge your whims and inspirations—your stir-ins and substitutions—and become whatever it is you’d like it to be.
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