Slide loaf onto pizza peel or place on baking pan and put in oven.
They cleave hunks of gooey white out of flat masses of dough, and then slide the loaves, the size of large cobblestones, into an oil-burning, slow-grinding, brick-lined oven set at about 400 degrees.
"Excellent," the Breadman said, and he bent over the basket, personally withdrew the last two loaves, and slid them carefully into a paper sack while the girl assistant snatched up the empty vessel and whisked it away.
*Bread knives are very sharp, so if the loaf slides on the cutting board, you may cut yourself.
Chad slides in a "sacrificial loaf" — one he bakes solely to cool the oven floor.
Transfer the loaf into the oven (you may slide it onto a flour lined tray or baking peel) and splash a little water in the oven bottom to generate steam.
Slide a butter knife around the edge of the loaf and gently lift it out of the pan (using the parchment paper) and onto a cooling rack.
Hold one end of the loaf firmly with your hand so that it doesn't slide around on the cutting board.
Turn the batter into a loaf pan, smooth the top, press the clementine segments into it, slide it into the oven, sit back and dream of Greek Islands, beaches in Spain, the French Côte d'Azur or any other paradisiacal port.
On the flip side, Americana archivist Charles Phoenix who's giving one of his delightful slide shows at Tiki Oasis, shares his kitschy, creative Thanksgiving experience, replete with a tiki turkey loaf and mashed potato volcano that moves beyond any home-ec class Gidget ever took.
