Prep note: In addition to the large bowl needed for mixing the dough, you’ll need a second medium/large bowl to hold the dough as it rises. This second bowl needs oiling with olive oil, and a clean dishtowel to keep it from catching a chill.

Proof the yeast by spooning it into a large mixing bowl and adding 1/4 cup warm water. Old recipes call for “blood heat”. Don’t make the water hot, or it will kill the yeast. Add the pinch of sugar. This it to give the yeast something to snack on. Let the yeast proof about 5 minutes. You’ll notice it “bloom” and start to smell nicely, well, yeasty.

If you plan to add the optional spring onion, scallion, fennel seed, paprika, whatever, stir these ingredients into the yogurt:

Add the yogurt (a spatula is helpful here) the tablespoon of olive oil, and salt to the yeast. Whisk until blended.

Now add a cup of flour and stir to blend with a wooden spoon.

Okay, now I want those of you with limited baking experience to breathe deeply. Be brave. Make space someplace you can knead: a countertop, a table, where ever. Make sure this space is clean–wipe down with your white vinegar. Make a little pile of flour. Flour your hands. Dump the dough, a shaggy mess, onto what I’m calling your countertop:

A mess, right? Don’t worry about a thing, because like Bob Marley said, every little thing is gonna be all right. Just add the remainder of the flour to this mess, gather it in with your hands, and gently knead.

The yogurt means this dough will be sticky. Resist the urge to add bushels of flour. Remember the yield is only 8 breads. You just want the dough to integrate. Like this:

Place in your second oiled bowl. Oil the dough, too, just lightly. Cover with a clean dishtowel and tuck in a warm spot, like near your oven. Leave for 90 minutes. Dough should double in bulk.

Now, in the spirit of total honesty that has characterized this blog to date and made exactly 13 of you love me enough to become regular readers (never mind that some of you loved me before: I thank you anyway, wholeheartedly), I confess my dough did not double in bulk this time around. I am not a timid bread baker, and share this because I knew my yeast was alive and otherwise doing its yeast thing, and decided to go ahead and bake the flatbreads, which were wonderful. So I am sharing my knowledge here.

Why didn’t the dough double in bulk?

My house was chilly, that’s why. I’d turned the thermostat down, the weather was damply chill, with rain forecast, and the dough was having none of it. When I realized this, 90 minutes in,  I preheated the oven to 450 F, our next step in the recipe, and parked the bowl atop the stove for an extra 10 minutes.

So, how do you know if your yeast is alive?

Your bread will be springy. A finger pressed into the dough will leave an indentation that will slowly spring back. The dough will feel alive, like it’s coming back at you. That yeast smell I mentioned earlier? You’ll still smell it. Cooking is about all your senses. Use them. It’s also about confidence. Go ahead. Make your flatbread.

Okay, so preheat the oven to 450 F.

Have at least one baking tray ready. Sprinkle it with cornmeal (best) or flour.

Have a small ramekin of olive oil and a pastry brush ready.  If you are sprinkling your breads with salt, have that ready, too.

Lightly flour your work surface and a rolling pin.

Plop the dough on the countertop. Flour your hands again. Punch down the dough. Cut with a knife or scissors into eight equally-sized lumps. Dough will be sticky and may resist you. Avoid overhandling.

Shape each piece into a ball. They may fight back a little. That’s okay. Allow them to rest a few minutes.

Now take your floured rolling pin and gently roll a ball out into round, or something approximating one.

Lay it gently on the baking sheet. You may be able to get two or three dough rounds on one baking sheet, depending on the size of the sheet. Do whatever works without crowding the sheet.

Place these into the oven and bake five minutes per side. I flip the breads with tongs.

After ten minutes, remove the baking sheet and paint each side of the flatbread with olive oil (or butter). Salt lightly, if you wish. Try not to eat them all by yourself in the kitchen.

Flatbreads are best eaten fresh. But if you wrap them well, leftovers can be reheated in a low oven or microwave. They also freeze well.

We ate these with lamb, more yogurt (me), and crisp Romaine lettuce.