No yeast, no long kneading: the 15‑minute bread method home bakers are calling “the weekday loaf”

Thomas Wilkins • December 10, 2025 16:27

You come in on a Tuesday with a carrier bag, a tired brain and half a heel of supermarket bread on the counter. The idea of starting a yeasted loaf at 7pm feels like volunteering for a night shift. You picture mixing, kneading, proving, shaping, waiting - and by the time it’s cool enough to slice, you’re in bed. So you reach for pre‑sliced, again, even though it tastes faintly of fridge and disappointment.

A friend of mine, a pastry chef who never has evenings off, asked why I was still doing “Sunday bread” on weeknights. Then she showed me her weekday version: no yeast, no long knead, no proving bowl hogging the radiator. Just one bowl, a jug, a fork, and a hot oven. Twelve minutes of actual work, tops. The crust crackled, the crumb took butter like a dream, and my kitchen smelled like I’d made an effort I absolutely had not.

It is not sourdough. It will not win a three‑day hydration workshop. But it does something different and very useful: it turns basic cupboard bits into a fresh, sliceable loaf in the time it takes to hang up your coat and heat some soup. That’s why home bakers have quietly started calling it “the weekday loaf”.

The quiet switch from “prove for hours” to “bake right now”

Classic bread leans on yeast: a slow, living lift that needs time, warmth, and patience. The weekday loaf swaps that biology for chemistry. Instead of yeast nibbling sugar and puffing CO₂, it uses bicarbonate of soda (or baking powder) reacting instantly with acidity in yoghurt, buttermilk or lemon. The bubbles arrive in minutes, not hours. They need you to move quickly, not wait.

The dough looks wrong if you’re used to silky, kneaded loaves. It’s soft, shaggy, almost like scone dough that changed its mind at the last moment. That’s deliberate. **This method is stir‑and‑fold, not knead‑until‑glossy.** Long kneading would knock out the gas you’re trying to trap and turn the crumb dense.

Heat does the rest. You stir the wet into the dry just enough to bring together, tip into a hot tin or onto a preheated tray, slash the top and get it into the oven while the chemical fizz is still lively. By the time you’ve cleared the worktop and found the butter knife, the crust is lifting and the kitchen smells like Saturday.

Bakers who work long shifts love this because it respects their reality. They come home hungry, not in the mood for a project, and still want something warm and honest on a plate. We’ve all had that moment when we realise we were working hard in the wrong direction; weekday bread says, “Do less, but do the bit that matters.”

The method, step by step - from empty bowl to weekday loaf

Here’s the core version - a small, everyday loaf that slices, toasts, and vanishes by breakfast.

You’ll need (for one 1lb/450g tin or small free‑form loaf):

300 g plain flour (or 200 g plain + 100 g wholemeal)
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp fine salt
1–2 tsp sugar or runny honey (optional, softens the flavour)
300 ml plain yoghurt or buttermilk
- or 200 ml yoghurt + 100 ml milk
1 tbsp vegetable oil or melted butter (optional, for tenderness)
Extra flour for dusting

Before you start (2–3 minutes):

Heat the oven to 220°C (200°C fan).
Lightly grease a 1lb loaf tin, or put a baking tray in to preheat.
If your yoghurt is very thick, loosen it with a splash of milk until it pours.

Mixing (5 minutes):

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, bicarb and salt so the raising agent is evenly spread.
In a jug, whisk the yoghurt (and milk if using), sugar/honey and oil or butter.
Pour the wet into the dry in one go.
Using a fork or your hand shaped like a claw, mix with quick, light movements until no obvious dry pockets remain.

You are aiming for a soft, sticky dough that clumps but does not pour. It will look a bit rough. That’s right.

“Aim for shaggy, not silky,” my friend said. “If it’s smooth, you’ve bullied it.”

Bringing it together (2–3 minutes):

Flour your hands and the surface lightly.
Tip the dough out and fold it over itself 5–6 times, turning a quarter turn each time. You’re just persuading it into a loose ball or log, not kneading like pizza dough.
Shape:
- For a tin: drop it in, gently press into the corners, smooth the top with a floured hand.
- For a free‑form loaf: pat into a round about 4–5 cm deep and sit it on the hot tray.
With a sharp knife, score a deep cross or long slash about 1–1.5 cm deep. This helps it rise and cook evenly.

Baking (25–30 minutes, no effort from you):

Bake at 220°C (200°C fan) for 10 minutes, then drop to 200°C (180°C fan) for another 15–20.
It’s done when:
- the top is well browned,
- it sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom, and
- a skewer pushed into the centre comes out clean.

If the top races ahead, lay a loose foil “roof” over it for the last 10 minutes so the inside can catch up without the crust scorching.

Common slips? Overmixing (tough crumb), cutting the bake short (gummy centre), or using old bicarb that has lost its oomph. Let’s be honest: nobody checks the date on bicarb every month. If your last loaf sulked, start with a fresh pot.

Tiny tweaks that make it feel like “proper” bread

It turns out weekday loaves want rhythm, not ceremony. Once you trust the base method, small changes make it feel less like an emergency bake and more like a habit.

For more “bread” flavour: Swap 100–150 g of the flour for strong bread flour or wholemeal. It adds chew and depth.
For crunch: Scatter 2 tbsp seeds (sunflower, pumpkin, sesame) over the top just before baking, or fold them very briefly into the dough.
For a softer sandwich loaf: Brush the hot crust with a little milk or melted butter as soon as it comes out of the oven, then cover loosely with a clean tea towel while it cools.
For herbs and cheese: Add 1–2 tsp dried herbs (or a small handful of chopped fresh) to the dry mix and 30–40 g finely grated hard cheese. It turns into a savoury loaf that makes soup feel like a meal.

Storage is simple. Once fully cool, wrap in a clean tea towel or paper and keep at room temperature for a day or two. After that, slice and freeze, toasting straight from frozen. **This loaf is built for toasting.** The slightly denser crumb and quick crust love the grill.

You can also go flat. Pat the same dough thinner, bake as a rough slab on a hot tray for 15–18 minutes, and you have something between focaccia and soda bread that slices into quick squares or wedges. Weeknight stews suddenly look more deliberate.

“Use the loaf to support your life, not the other way round,” my friend told me, rinsing the bowl. “Bread shouldn’t need a diary slot.”

Point clé	Détail	Intérêt pour le lecteur
Chemical, not yeast lift	Bicarb + yoghurt give instant rise, no proving	Fresh bread on a weeknight without planning ahead
Minimal handling	Quick stir and a few folds instead of long knead	Saves time and effort, kinder to tired hands
Flexible base recipe	Swap flours, add seeds, herbs, cheese	One method, many loaves to fit what you have in the cupboard

FAQ:

Does this taste like “real” bread or more like cake? The crumb sits somewhere between soda bread and a light scone, but with the salt and longer bake it eats very much like everyday bread, especially when cooled and toasted.

Can I make it dairy‑free? Yes. Use plant yoghurt with a squeeze of lemon juice or 1 tsp vinegar to boost acidity, and check the texture; you may need a splash more liquid.

Can I use self‑raising flour instead of plain plus bicarb? You can, but still add a pinch of extra bicarb if your yoghurt is very tangy, and skip any additional baking powder. The loaf may rise a little less but will still be good.

How strict is the 15‑minute claim? It refers to hands‑on time: mixing, shaping, getting it into the oven. Baking is another 25–30 minutes, which is passive - ideal while you prep the rest of dinner.

What if I only have milk, no yoghurt or buttermilk? Sour it: stir 1–2 tbsp lemon juice or vinegar into 300 ml milk, leave it for 5 minutes to thicken slightly, then use as your liquid.