Alright so… bread. Not, like, that overachiever sourdough situation where people are naming their starters—like “Gerald” or whatever—and posting those dramatic black-and-white shots of their floury hands like they’re starring in some moody baking documentary. I mean the kind of bread you make when you’re staring at the empty bread bag and just go, “uhh… screw it, I’ll make some, I guess?” Not cute. Not artisanal. Just flat, maybe a little sad-looking, kind of floppy, burns your fingers if you’re too impatient—which, yeah. But it holds stuff. Soaks up sauce. Keeps you from being hungry. That’s all. It’s not trying to be anything. It just works.
This one in particular—Navajo Flatbread, supposedly, though it’s honestly kind of naan-adjacent?—came from someone named Brandon Johnson on Facebook. Which I only mention because, I don’t know, sometimes the internet actually gives you something solid. And this is one of those. Costs basically nothing. Like, literal pennies. No yeast. No waiting for stuff to rise overnight or dealing with sourdough starters that feel like high-maintenance pets. You already have everything it needs. You definitely do. Unless you don’t even have salt, which… yeah, fair.
Anyway. Here’s what you need:
Flour—2 cups of it.
Water—lukewarm, 1 1/4 cups.
Baking powder, tablespoon.
Kosher salt, just a teaspoon.
And then some kind of fat—oil or butter or shortening, also a tablespoon, whichever you’ve got. It doesn’t matter. Don’t overthink it.
And yeah, that’s it. You don’t need yeast, or eggs, or milk, or whatever people always assume goes in bread. It’s just the basics.
So the actual making part—it’s barely a recipe, honestly.
First, toss the dry stuff in a bowl. That’s flour, baking powder, salt. Stir it a bit. Then most of the water goes in. Not all of it—just like, a splash less. Mix it around. It’s gonna look too dry at first and then suddenly too wet and then weirdly sticky, but keep going. Add the rest of the water slowly while you mix, and you’re aiming for something tacky. Like pizza dough that got distracted halfway through existing.
Then—knead it. Not forever. Like a couple of minutes. Push it around until it’s a little smoother, less annoying to touch. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Then you oil a bowl, drop the dough in, cover it with something vaguely clean, and just… leave it. Half an hour, maybe an hour. Doesn’t matter much.
After that, take the dough blob, cut it into six pieces. Equal-ish. Roll them out one by one on a floured surface. You’re aiming for thin—tortilla thin. If it rips, who cares. Patch it or pretend it’s rustic.
Now you need heat. Griddle, skillet, whatever. Get it hot—around 350°F if you’re being precise, but honestly just medium-high works. Throw one of the rolled-out rounds on there. It’ll start to bubble a little and get those golden spots like pancakes do. Flip it. Do the other side. That’s it. Each one takes like, a minute? Maybe two? Depends how hot your pan is.
Keep going until they’re all done. Stack them. Eat them. You can wrap them in foil or a towel to keep warm, or freeze them if you’re thinking ahead, which I never am but you might be. They freeze surprisingly well, actually. And reheat fast—just toss back in a pan, no need to defrost or anything.
You’ll Love This Recipe
And yeah. That’s the whole thing. It’s not glamorous, and it won’t win any bake-offs, but it’s warm and fast and weirdly comforting. Kind of nice to make something that doesn’t involve delivery apps or standing in bread aisles wondering if it’s worth $5.
It’s one of those little life skills that sneaks up on you—like, oh, I can just make bread now. Not fancy bread. But still.
