Cinnamon Raisin Walnut Bread
Dare I say that I love this bread even more than I loved last week’s BBA Challenge cinnamon rolls? Go ahead and laugh, but it’s true. One full loaf of this bread disappeared in our house in less than 12 hours. As soon as it cooled for the recommended 2 hours, we ate it still slightly warm for dessert, with absolutely nothing on it. We woke up thinking about it, and therefore ate it toasted with Irish Butter for breakfast with the New York Times and cappuccinos. Then I ate an end piece, because, well, no one else wanted it, and I couldn’t let it go to waste now, could I? Cinnamon Bread Lovers Anonymous, here I come!
I made the version in the Bread Baker’s Apprentice with buttermilk, the extra cinnamon-sugar swirl, and the butter and cinnamon-sugar dusting on top. Yeah, I know, no wonder it was so melt-in-your-mouth delectable. Peter Reinhart’s recipe has so many raisins and walnuts in the dough, that you have to finish kneading by hand (if you’ve done the rest of the kneading in the mixer, as I did).
The Kneaded Dough
It Doubled Very Quickly
Half the Dough Rolled Out into a Rectangle
Cinnamon Sugar Swirl in Place
As usual, I needed to add extra flour to get the dough to the “tacky, but not sticky” stage, but I’m used to that now. The only problem I had was that the second rise (in the pans) took less than half the recommended time. The loaves were huge when I checked on them, and thus they fell in the oven a bit. I consoled myself by brushing butter on the tops and dusting with that extra cinnamon-sugar mixture. I felt better immediately; butter and cinnamon-sugar can fix just about anything, don’t you think?
After one taste, all was forgiven. My ugly-duckling loaves tasted better than any cinnamon-raisin bread I’ve ever eaten. Soft, light, sweet, and spicy, with that slight crunch of walnuts. Go buy the Bread Baker’s Apprentice and bake with us – this recipe alone is worth the price! You will never, ever buy a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread at the store again, I promise.
5 comments July 13, 2009
I Heart NYC
Someday, maybe, if I am very lucky, I will understand why leaving NYC makes me feel as though I am being forced from the womb, or torn from my home. After all, I’ve only been there three times, for rather short visits each time. I grew up in Southern California, and always felt quite alien there. But as soon as I am in a taxi or bus speeding from an airport into Manhattan, I can breathe peacefully. My shoulders drop as my pulse quickens, and the rhythms of the City envelop me. So when the chance came up last week to go for that third visit, I jumped, and two days later I was on the plane.
And NYC loved me back. July weather is not normally so pleasant. A friend said that I had brought Northern California weather with me, and so it seemed. I didn’t break a sweat once, not even when walking briskly for 4 hours at a time! It was so stunning out that I couldn’t bear to go inside to see a show, or even go underground on the subway.
How to explain that my feet have always known the way without a map? Grand Central Station, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, The Met. Everyone in a good mood this time, lucky tourists and locals alike. Babies/strollers/moms/nannies everywhere. Cigarette smoke. The quick click-clack of high heels supporting incredibly-toned calves across uneven sidewalks. Sirens, horns, questions, answers, fingers pointing, heads nodding. Violins and boom-boxes. Fountains and jackhammers. A transfusion for my soul.
I dined at Tabla, finally, while overlooking a concert in Madison Park. I grabbed a burger at Le Parker Meridien’s burger joint and ate in it Central Park with a friend. I went to Virgil’s for the third time – for tradition’s sake, and thought the food was actually very good, though that may have been an effect of the second margarita – strongest margarita in the world, apparently. I ate a 25 cent banana from a fruit cart while I sat on a bench in the middle of Hello Kitty sculptures. I walked by Magnolia Bakery without going in. There will just have to be a next time, and soon.
When I leave Rome, I sob in the taxi and whisper endearments in Italian as the buildings fade in the distance. The confusing passionate lover I can’t bear to leave, but I know isn’t ultimately good for me. When I leave New York City, strangely proud to be an American, yet frustrated at the long-distance nature of our relationship, I straighten my shoulders and lift my head, determined to make it all work out. Some things just can’t be explained.
Add comment July 12, 2009
Cinnamon Rolls
Last week’s BBA Challenge bread was a definite waist expander. I had promised myself that I was giving most of them away, but let’s just say – never happened. I have three left in the freezer, and no one to blame but myself (and maybe Peter Reinhart) for all the extra walking/jogging I need to do. We voted, and my son prefers the other cinnamon rolls I make, since his young palate was offended by the lemon extract in these. My spouse liked both versions, although they are very different. I, well, I like all homemade cinnamon rolls, it seems.
Sugar, Salt, Butter, Egg, and Lemon Extract
Still Too Sticky, Needs More Flour
This recipe is easy. The ample cinnamon-sugar mixture gets sprinkled on the bare dough, which makes for a bit of a mess. The mixture wants to spill out from the edges while rolling and cutting. One BBA baker used egg whites brushed on the dough to keep it there, a tip she learned from Rose Levy Beranbaum, and I thought that would have helped me tremendously. (My other go-to recipe uses softened butter smeared on the dough. That’s awesome, and adds richness, but we’re already having tooso much richness around here these days.)
First Rise
Spreading Cinnamon Sugar
All Rolled Up and Ready to Slice
Another major difference in the recipes is the glaze. Peter Reinhart’s glaze is a simple fondant made of powdered sugar, vanilla, and milk. I usually frost the rolls with a cream cheese frosting that compliments the spice and adds complexity to the layering of flavors. But again, right now, who needs the extra calories? Especially given how many rolls I managed to eat in a week.
I baked the rolls off in two batches, and the batch that sat in the refrigerator for 2 days had a much richer flavor overall. I was pleasantly surprised at the difference. The lemon extract had mellowed, and the actual bread molecules seemed to melt in the mouth in a way the first rolls hadn’t. This also allowed me to claim I needed to eat a couple rolls from the second batch, for research purposes only, of course!
Who Could Resist?
In the fall, I’ll likely try a hybrid recipe from the two. I’ll make the Peter Reinhart dough, without lemon extract (though I used only half called for this time, I’d like my son to love them!), and let it sit in the refrigerator a day or two. I’ll try that egg white trick to keep the sugar mixture in place. Then, I’ll frost with the cream cheese frosting, and promise that I’ll give most of them away. We’ll see how that goes.
4 comments July 6, 2009
Apricot Jam Tart
An alternate title for this post was: Thank You David Lebovitz for Making Me Look Like a Pastry Rock Star. But I thought that was a little long. It is, however, exactly how I feel about this recipe. Since a big weekend is approaching, I thought I’d let you in on a secret. Oh, sure, we’d all love to go to the farmer’s market and pick out perfectly juicy fruit, roll out a crust, and make a pie. (If you’d like to do exactly that, look at my easy rustic version over here.) But some of you just don’t have time, and I’m feelin’ you on that one these days.
So cheat, and make this tart, which comes out of the oven looking so charming and meltingly delicious that no one will ever guess how simple it is – unless you’re like me and can’t wait to tell them. The cornmeal crust dough comes together easily, and then it’s chilled in two pieces before one is pressed into the tart pan. (Look, Ma, no rolling!) The dough for the top is formed into a log, refrigerated, then sliced like slice-and-bake cookies. Spread apricot jam (or any flavor jam you want to play with) over the crust in the pan. Jam you purchased, jam you made, just spread the darned jam as fast as you can. Place the circles (of dough you cut from the log) over the jam in overlapping rings, sprinkle the top with coarse sugar and bake. Voila! Dessert is ready, and stunning, too. (It went so fast, I couldn’t even get a picture of a slice!)
Relax. Enjoy yourself. Have a safe and wonderful 4th of July. Tell the difficult recipes that you’re on vacation, because you deserve it!
1 comment July 3, 2009
Ciabatta Bing Ciabatta Boom
It’s tempting to say, “Shhhh! Dough at rest!” My dough is so spoiled. You are looking at a homemade cradle for dough. Otherwise known as a couche. They are usually made of a heavily floured stiff cloth, but what the heck, it was a very busy week. And two rolls of paper towels (one supported by a wine bottle – also designed to support me if the bread turned out terribly) on a baking sheet and then covered with parchment worked just fine. Really. I think one can either get hung up on having all the right equipment, or one can make do, and this time I chose to do the latter – though I’ll admit I’m rarely that relaxed.
It reminds me of a time many years ago when I asked a friend if she had purchased a crib for her nearly-born baby, and she said she hadn’t found the right one yet. I was pretty concerned until she told me that in her country, they often used a dresser drawer as the baby’s bed for the first few weeks. I was impressed. That’s just darned practical, mixed with zero stress.
Peter Reinhart’s ciabatta recipe is low stress, as well. I tried his poolish version, which involves mixing up some flour, water, and yeast, and then letting it bubble up before storing it in the refrigerator, at least overnight. You then use this as the starter for the rest of the dough. It’s not the super-wet dough I’m used to using for this bread, and it therefore didn’t produce the giant holes I’m used to either. But the subtle earthy flavor that develops during a long rise, from a mix of flour, water, yeast, and a tiny amount of salt was most definitely there. It was chewy, and gave us a break from all the enriched soft breads we’ve been eating lately.
I added a lot more water than the recipe called for, just to get the dough wet enough to stick to the bottom of the mixing bowl. ( Usually, here in the damp Bay Area, I have the opposite problem and end up adding more flour!)
The dough didn’t attempt to “weep” out of the rectangular shape, which meant it was still much drier than the other recipes I’ve used. However, this also made it much easier to work with. I read a lot of posts from other BBA Challengers who had the same experience. The Bread Baker’s Apprentice has a biga version which I may try soon. I’ll be sure to report here if I do!
This was my first time using the stretch-and-fold method of shaping ciabatta, and it made for a traditionally-shaped, long, low slipper loaf. I made one large and two small loaves, which we happily made into toast and sandwiches all week.
11 comments June 30, 2009
Community and Challah
Every week, I’m amazed at the mystery held within the new dough. It’s not that I can’t imagine the end result, given the list of ingredients, it’s just that bread-making is so much more than the sum of those ingredients. It’s the temperature, the humidity, the baker’s hand. Will I feel it? Will I know the moment that the right amount of flour has been added? Without adding too much? It’s such a gift to take precious time to practice this form of edible art and science.
Someone asked me to quantify my learning so far. On a scale of confidence about baking bread, from 1 to 10, where did you start at the beginning of the BBA Challenge, and where are you now, after 5 weeks? I said that I started at about 6 and I’m at a 9.5. Wow. One book, by an amazing teacher. One woman sending out a tweet. A commitment by over 200 bakers all over the world to form a community. Pounds of flour. Hundreds of blog entries and flicker photos, thousands of comments, unlimited support. A quantum leap in terms of bread baking confidence and knowledge.
Last week’s bread was Challah, a bread that holds many symbols of God’s goodness for the Jewish community. I’m not sure I‘ve ever tasted it, prior to baking it. I found it to be an easy dough. I’ve never braided bread, so I was a little nervous. There was no need – it handled very easily and looked gorgeous.
Some of my BBA Challenge friends found it to be less rich and less sweet than other recipes they had made. I had nothing to compare it to, but was relieved to have a plain bread, after a few weeks of richness. Only bread flour, a little sugar, a little vegetable oil, salt, yeast, eggs, and water. (No butter!) I made half into a braided loaf and half into hamburger buns, and we loved it all. I’ll make this bread again, and will likely also try other versions suggested by the group. To celebrate goodness in the form of the BBA challenge community, of course.
20 comments June 22, 2009
So Not Bread
Because I cannot live on bread alone (as it might appear that I’ve been doing, if you’ve been following me in the BBA Challenge), and neither can you, get yourself some sugar snap peas and pickle them. Yes. I said, “Pickle. Them.” It might be the strangest thing I have ever done to snap peas, but when you have pounds of them ready on the vine, as I do, you will resort to desperate measures. And you will be rewarded. These are crunchy, salty, briny and just darned good. Not to mention that they make me feel thrifty and resourceful. Simplest recipe ever, found right here at Smitten Kitchen. Find yourself a clean used jar, some sugar snap peas, and heat the brine (vinegar, water, salt, sugar – only a tiny bit, these are not sweet pickles, garlic, and a pinch of red chilies). Stick them in the fridge and you are done. Really. Perfect when the salty snack urge arises. So glad I tried it. Dare to be different. Go forth and pickle now.
Add comment June 18, 2009
The Bread that Almost Made Me a Vegetarian
Casatiello
I was excited about trying something new, I really was. After all, if the BBA Challenge has taught me anything (okay, it’s taught me a lot, but that’s just a saying, you know), it’s taught me that bread with “stuff” in it can be really, really good. And in writing about Casatiello, the bread we made this past week for the challenge, Peter Reinhart referenced the recipe that inspired his version. That recipe is in the book, The Italian Baker, by Carol Field, and that book has been on my shelf for over 20 years. I have a great deal of fondness for that book, because after my first attempt at rustic Italian bread from a Sunset Magazine article, I bought The Italian Baker, and made bread from it. That book has been my faithful companion longer than any of my relationships, houses, or pets. That book taught me how to bake bread. And while I have made many loaves of bread from its pages, I had never made the Casatiello.
So off to the Italian deli I went, in search of the most authentic ingredients. My family, however, said, “You’re making bread with what it in?” “Salami and provolone? I don’t know about that . . .” I was determined to change their minds. No surprise here, but I tend to be a rather stubborn determined sort, to put it mildly.
Carol explains in her book that Casatiello was originally made for Easter celebrations in the countryside around Naples. Her version also includes coarsely ground pepper, and gruyere, pecorino romano, and parmesan cheeses. (Which sounds like a lovely blend, actually.)
Ingredients at the Ready
Sticky Dough
Now it Clears the Sides of the Bowl
Incorporating the Cheese and the Crisped Salami
Ready to Rise
1st Rise is Over
The paper bags were so cute in the little cake pans awaiting the dough. (Um, they were supposed to be sitting in cans, but I don’t buy too many things in cans, so I had to improvise.) I felt like I was a guest on Martha Stewart or something. I’d never baked in brown bags before. (Does anyone know why this bread is sometimes baked in bags?)
Making Sure the Dough Has 2 Inches of Room
All Greased Up, Puffed Up, and Ready to Bake
I followed all of Peter’s instructions, laughing that a cardiologist would have a heart attack just reading the ingredients: salami, cheese, eggs, and butter. (In the bread, not between the bread.) I chose buttermilk as my option for the liquid. The bread rose on time, baked up golden brown on top, looking for all the world like two lopsided mushrooms. The house smelled wonderful, and I thought I would be a convert to the idea of meat in a bread.
Done!
I was wrong. I was so wrong. While many, many of my fellow challengers loved this bread, I didn’t. The bread turned out just fine. Silky bread, pockets of melted cheese, and crispy, salty salami. It’s just that we didn’t/couldn’t/wouldn’t eat it. On the third day, when I forced myself to eat a slice to see if I liked it any better than I had the first two days, my stomach lurched. That was it. Into the trash went one-and-a-half loaves of beautifully golden bread.
Looking back, maybe I would have liked a vegetarian version, with dried tomatoes and perhaps a different cheese. Maybe the provolone with the flavor of the buttermilk was just too sour for me. I probably hadn’t had a bite of salami in over 10 years. It’s not my thing. We eat turkey bacon and turkey pepperoni, when we eat it. (I know, eeeeuuuwwww! But in California it’s not that strange.) I was a vegetarian for a long time, and, even now, I don’t eat much meat. Especially chunks of salami. So it just wasn’t meant to be. I tried. Although I love the name Casatiello, and playing with the greasy paper bags was fun, I simply won’t be making bread with pieces of meat in it anytime again soon.
To soothe my family’s disappointment, I made Poor Man’s Brioche. The one with only one stick of butter in it. I even used low -fat milk in it. Every bite disappeared. I think I liked it better than Middle-Class Brioche, to tell you the truth. Then, just for old time’s sake, I made Spaccatini (tiny cleft rolls) from The Italian Baker. My family didn’t really suffer now, did they?
11 comments June 16, 2009
May I Have a Little Flour with that Butter, Please?
In a series of unfortunate (but yummy) events, which really just means that we are baking through The Bread Baker’s Apprentice in alphabetical order, we are baking Brioche, then Casatiello (which has cheese and salami in it), and then Challah. May I mention that these are not your typical bathing-suit-season breads? So in the week leading up to baking brioche, I began channeling my inner Frenchwoman. As in French Women Don’t Get Fat. After all, in spite of being adopted, I know that my birth father’s last name is Marcoux. Shouldn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t I be able to eat buttery bread and not have it settle right on my hips? (I’m conveniently leaving out the other part of my heritage, which is German. ‘Nuf said?)
Brioche had never passed my lips until last week. No sirree. It’s yellow. I’m smart enough; I know what that means: eggs and butter. And, as I’ve mentioned before, my bread is usually all about the flour, water, and wild or commercial yeast. Maybe a bit of cheese or olive or garlic on a very rare occasion, but nothing as caloric as eggs and butter.
So with great trepidation (what if I liked it so much that I couldn’t stop eating it?), I chose the middle-class brioche to bake, a term Peter Reinhart used to name the brioche dough with only 2 sticks of butter and 5 eggs in it. No, that’s not a typo. I could have chosen to make the “rich man’s,” with 4 sticks of butter and 5 eggs, but the dough sounded more difficult to work with, and would add a million more hours of jogging to my week. The “poor man’s,” which has 1 stick of butter and 4 eggs, didn’t seem worth the trouble, since it’s not supposed to be as meltingly delicious as the others. And then, what’s the point?
Sponge with an amazing amount of gluten development - see those strands?
The BUTTER. With a few other little ingredients.
Sticky dough
Incorporating the butter, a little at a time
Smooth dough climbing the paddle
Ready to chill overnight
Final rise
Mostly for the practice of shaping them
Therefore, middle class it was, and oh what fun! After the dough is mixed and kneaded, you place it in the refrigerator overnight – it looks like a slab of butter, but it stretches and sticks with the suction of an octopus – and it comes out the next day acting like some very fun, cool kind of buttery play-doh. Seriously, I had never felt anything like it. For once, my cold hands were an asset. I had no trouble shaping the dough, for the butter was not tempted to melt in the slightest. As you can see, I didn’t go out and purchase brioche pans (where exactly would I store them in my tiny house, already packed full to the brim with baking accessories?), so I used ramekins and a loaf pan. It worked just fine. This dough will rise in anything. The bread turned out great. If you ever want to make rich hamburger buns or extra-rich cinnamon rolls, this is your dough. (I’m told the recipe can be found in various spots on the web.)
And all my worry was for nothing; it seems I’m not that fond of brioche after all. It’s okay. A piece or two here and there over the week, and also made into an extraordinarily rich french toast on Sunday, and that was enough for me. (Maybe my inner Frenchwoman showed up, after all?) Although, when I mentioned giving some away, F said, “Over my dead body!” Yup. Exact quote. So it was good, as far as brioche goes. It’s probably an example of how to live. Use the best, real food ingredients, and the taste buds get satisfied. No need to over-eat. Although, I have to say, if it had been filled with chocolate ganache and almond paste, the way one of my fellow challengers made it, I would have eaten the whole thing. Because then it’s dessert, and all bets are off!
12 comments June 8, 2009
Sugar Snap Pea Salad with Spicy Dressing
Okay, so this is a great example of “what goes up, must come down.” Unless I want to go buy an entire new wardrobe yet again, with all this bread baking going on (wait ’til you see the one I’ve got proofing overnight in the refrigerator, holy cow), I’m going to have to start sharing some Cooking Light recipes here.
The truth is, I cook from Cooking Light all the time. But it’s never seemed exciting enough to talk about in this space. Now, with several loaves of bread being cooked each week (What, several, you ask? I have to practice my sourdough, and then there’s that Anadama Bread that keeps getting requested for sandwiches, after all.), pounds of butter and flour and eggs being thrown into rich bread dough as though I had the metabolism of a teenager, I’m all too happy to find that the vegetables growing in my garden are starting to sound extraordinarily exciting to me. Sometimes, I even forgo bread with dinner, but don’t tell anyone, alright?
Last night’s simple dinner was the perfect vehicle for the gorgeous sugar snap peas I’m currently harvesting, and I’m reading about how they’re showing up at farmer’s markets everywhere, so you have no excuse not to make this delicious, and yes, light meal. Get more snap peas than the recipe calls for, and eat some raw, while you’re cooking. Yum! We threw some leftover salmon on top of this salad and it made a satisfying and colorful meal, although some bread would have been very nice with it . . . but the scale is creeping up, and it must come down. Too bad that second part isn’t as certain (and quick) as it is with gravity, darn it!
Sugar Snap Pea Salad with Spicy Sesame-Orange Dressing
Adapted from Cooking Light, June 2009
Dressing
1 large orange (organic, if possible, since you will use some of the peel)
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
2 teaspoons low-sodium soy sauce (I used regular soy sauce and it was fine)
1½ teaspoons dark sesame oil
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon hot chile sauce (I used Sriracha, and next time will use just ¾ teaspoon.)
Wash and dry the orange. Grate 1 teaspoon rind and set aside. Squeeze 1/3 cup juice from the orange. Whisk orange juice, vinegar, soy sauce, sesame oil, brown sugar and chile sauce together in a small bowl.
Salad
2 teaspoons canola oil
1½ cups thinly sliced red bell pepper
¾ cup thinly sliced carrot
12 ounces sugar snap peas, washed and trimmed
½ teaspoon kosher salt
2 green onions, sliced diagonally
6 ounces fresh baby spinach
1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds
Heat 2 teaspoons canola oil over medium-high heat in a non-stick skillet. Add red pepper and carrot to pan. Saute 1 minute, stirring once or twice. Add the grated orange rind, along with the sugar snap peas and salt. Saute 2 minutes, stirring two or three times. Transfer the pea mixture to a large bowl and let cool for 5 minutes. Add the green onions and spinach. Add dressing and toss to coat. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve. Serves 6 as a salad course or 3 as a main dish with salmon or chicken sliced on top.
1 comment June 2, 2009
