Easter Bread, or, Sweet Breakfast Bread with Raisins

My mom doesn't tell many stories about her childhood, which is weird, because all of the things I know about it are awesome: her pets included a snapping turtle (which she fed by spearing raw beef on the end of a pencil), a mouse, and a de-scented skunk, and for awhile her family kept chickens in their suburban Florida backyard (whose eggs my mom refused to eat because, and I'm quoting her here, “they came from a chicken butt”).

Eleanor and her son, my Uncle Jimmy, on Easter sunday 1960. I like to think my mom is not pictured because she was still rejoicing over her found pet mouse.

Anyway, one of the few stories I know from her childhood is the story of how her pet mouse escaped one Easter morning, and my mom refused to get ready for church until they found it. Irritated, no doubt, by the prospect of being late to Easter services, Eleanor (a devout Catholic) banished my mom to her room and probably threatened her with grievous bodily harm if my mom didn't hurry up and get ready. In tears, my mom threw herself onto the bed, sobbing and probably plotting how she would run away, when her mouse crawled out from under her Easter dress where it had been hiding.

I took this story for granted as a kid: I had always wanted a mouse for a pet and was so jealous that my mom had been allowed to have one. Now that I am (purportedly) a grownup and all three of the apartments Judson and I have lived in since we got married have had unpurchased mouse “pets” living in them upon our arrival, I am mostly just shocked at the idea that anyone would want a pet mouse, particularly my mom, who wasn't even really that fond of dogs until we got one when I was a kid.

I like to imagine that, while my mom was throwing a tantrum and then rejoicing over her lost and found mouse, this Easter bread was rising in the kitchen, ready to be eaten with brunch after church as soon as the Easter egg hunts were finished.

I'm not really sure what makes this “Easter” bread; Judson thinks it's because it contains eggs, while I think it's supposed to be either a Jesus allusion (the bread rose like Christ!) or else a riff on the fact that it's basically just challah, a typical Jewish egg bread. Either way, it's delicious. The recipe, which I thought would be temperamental, is surprisingly forgiving and I've mapped it out below in a much easier to follow manner than how it was bequeathed to me.

It's time consuming-- the bread rises twice, along with a weird hour-or-two long stage where it just sits in a warm place without being mixed, so it's definitely a recipe you want to make the night before you have it for brunch. It's versatile: you could leave out the raisins or swap them for currants or dried cherries, add a dash of cinnamon and cardamom or even an egg wash to shine up the crust right before you pop it in the oven. And the loaf it makes is so large, you'll definitely have enough leftovers to make french toast or bread pudding later in the week-- a prospect I'm already excited about. It's sweet enough you don't need to top it with anything but soft butter, and this morning I sprinkled a little flaky sea salt on top after I toasted a slice with butter and, well, if it's not the best breakfast I've had all week then I don't know. Judson has already mentioned slathering it in clotted cream, which also sounds amazing to me, though it really doesn't need any embellishment to shine.

This is what the "cracks" in the flour should look like at the end of the resting period.

This recipe is written in a hand I don't recognise, but Eleanor added her own notes all the way through-- along with the stains that cover the recipe card, this is how I know she must have made it a fair few times. My favourite note is at the bottom, where she reminds herself that it was “made in applecake pan (grease it).”

The Verdict:

3 spoons out of five. Delicious, but unless you're going to a party, it makes an impractically large loaf. Also, despite the richness of the bread, it's still a bit drier than I would like (hence serving it with butter)-- I wanted this to be a dense, moist bread that bordered on “sweet roll” territory, but instead it's about the same texture as challah: airy and a little bit dry for my taste. Still delicious, and if I get invited to a last minute Easter shindig, this'll be my go-to.

 

The Recipe:

Easter Bread

The Ingredients:

1 c milk
½ c sugar
6 c + 1 tbsp flour, divided
½ tsp salt
4 ½ tsp yeast (2 packets, if you're stateside)
1/3 c water, lukewarm
½ tsp vanilla
4 tbsp butter, melted
3 eggs
1 ¼ c raisins (I used sultanas)

THE DIRECTIONS:

Boil milk and sugar carefully, stirring constantly, for about 3 minutes.
Put 1 tbsp of flour into a large mixing bowl and pour boiled milk mixture over it.
Add salt, mix and smash out all lumps, and allow to cool.
When milk mixture has cooled to lukewarm, dissolve yeast in the warm water, making sure water is not too hot.
Add yeast mixture to lukewarm milk mixture and stir well.
Beat in 1 cup of flour with a whisk.
Sprinkle an additional 1 cup of flour on top of mixture, but don't stir it in. It's helpful at this stage to smooth over your flour gently so it's relatively flat-- you'll notice the cracks better when they finally appear.
Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let stand in a warm place until cracks appear in the flour (see picture). If you're in the UK, this might take up to 2 hours. If you're somewhere warmer, it could be about 30 minutes.
Once cracks have appeared in the flour, mix well with a large spoon.
Add vanilla, melted (but not too hot) butter, eggs, and raisins.
Add 2 cups of flour and mix well.
Continue adding flour gradually, until dough no longer sticks to hand and “is satiny” but not too dry (For me, this meant adding about 2 more cups of flour).
Use spoon to shape dough into a rough ball shape, cover tightly and let rise in a warm place until double, about an hour and a half.
Punch down the dough and knead it well, at least thirty times or so.
Shape according to your pan(s), place dough in pans in a warm place and let rise again, about an hour.*
Preheat oven to 350F/176C and cook for 35 minutes for a single large loaf, or about 25 minutes for two smaller ones.

*I used an ungreased cake pan for this because the dough felt too heavy to go into a loaf pan and I thought it would rise too much. I (and Eleanor, who also made it in a cake pan) definitely recommend this, but if you're intent on making it in loaf pans, make sure you only fill your loaf pans about 2/3 of the way so that the dough has plenty of room to rise. It popped right out of my nonstick cake pan, but if you're worried about sticking or just want an extra brown crust, feel free to grease your pans with a little butter.

Peanut Butter Cookies

When I was a kid, I hated peanut butter. I know this because my dad thought it would be funny to teach me to recite, on cue, a list of all the foods I didn't like. And then if someone ever asked me “Hey Blair, would you like some cole slaw?” I would just spout them all off without warning: “Don't like cole slaw, don't like mayonnaise, don't like peanut butter, don't like peanut butter crackers, don't like Tootsie Rolls, don't like spaghetti...” etc.

But then I grew up, my mom figured out a way to make PB&J appetising to me, and my grandpa introduced me to Reese's cups, which are still my favourite candy. In college, I was even known to have a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast on my way to class, but somehow peanut butter cookies have always been low on my list. Maybe it's because they're somehow so often dry and crumbly instead of soft and decadent like their chocolate chip cousins. Maybe it's those weird fork marks on top? Or maybe it's just that, truth be told, when facing a tin of holiday cookies, I'd just rather go for something more reliably amazing.

That said, I strongly associate peanuts, if not peanut butter, with Eleanor (and rightly so, at least judging by how well-worn this recipe is). She always had a crystal dish of Planters nuts somewhere in her living room, and I was fascinated by the fact that there were just snacks available all the time in her house. (Also, I know they were Planters because she also had all kinds of Mr. Peanut memorabilia that must have come with the jars over the years.) I may not have liked peanuts, but I'd conquer that dislike if it meant I got to eat anything out of a crystal dish whenever I wanted to, especially if it was offered to me by a peanut wearing a monocle. So every time we visited, I'd sneak peanuts and think Eleanor was très glamorous.

But back to the affair at hand: I offered to make cookies for Judson to take to a game night with his friends, and when presented with the option between peanut butter cookies and oatmeal cookies, he chose peanut butter. (Since then, he's chosen three other desserts over oatmeal cookies, but I keep thinking I'll sneak them in one of these days).

I made him these peanut butter cookies, and it turns out they are awesome. I'm sorry, Eleanor-- I should have expected nothing less from someone who bought enough peanuts to be in the running as Mrs. Peanut. These are exactly what I've always thought peanut butter cookies could be, but never knew how to achieve: they're gooey, salty-sweet, and have a depth of flavour beyond just PEANUTS. Plus, they're somehow not overly greasy, which is also another personal pet peeve when it comes to anything peanut-related. They're incredible when eaten warm out of the oven (with a glass of milk, please!), but they're also delish at room temperature, even for several days after making them. Plus, they're easy and classic... though I clearly haven't figured out how to make those fork marks yet.

The Verdict:

4 spoons out of five. These are the best peanut butter cookies I've ever had, but I'm trying to reserve 5 spoon ratings for recipes that are more unique than this one. But again, let me reiterate: best peanut butter cookies I've ever had. Make these for a party, make these for a friend, make these for yourself and you'll see... just make sure whoever you make them for doesn't have a peanut allergy first.

The recipe:

Peanut Butter Cookies

The ingredients:

½ c shortening or Stork
½ c peanut butter
½ c sugar
½ c brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 ¼ c flour, sifted
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
2 tbsp milk

THE DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350F/176C.
Cream shortening, peanut butter, and both sugars in a mixer.
Add egg and vanilla, beating well to incorporate.
Sift flour, soda, and salt together, then add to peanut butter mixture alternately with milk.
Drop by rounded teaspoon onto ungreased baking sheet and cook 10 minutes or until flattened and slightly brown around the edges.

Yields 2 dozen cookies, not 3 dozen as listed on Eleanor's recipe... unless you make them much smaller.

Quiche à la Bramafam, or, Tomato and Caramelised Onion Tart

Spring comes slowly in Edinburgh, which is strange, because 90% of the year here seems like it's either autumn or spring. But spring is slow to get off the ground: it starts with snowdrops, which are the only flowers that exist for about a month. Then come the daffodils, which last for another 3 weeks or so, by themselves (we're currently in the middle of daffodil season), then will come the tulips, then some flowery white trees I don't know the name of, and finally the rest of the trees turn fluffy and pink for nearly a month, because apparently 90% of the trees in this town are cherry trees. It's pretty awesome.

I love living in a place that has seasons because I grew up in Florida, where there is only “hurricane season” and “the rest of the year.” But now that I'm grown I miss the constant heat sometimes, and I miss the way every day in Florida feels almost exactly like the day before it, but most of all, I miss the thunderstorms. Florida has amazing thunderstorms, and since it only thunders about twice a year in Edinburgh, I definitely miss them the most.

Anyway, when spring finally comes, all I want to eat for dinner every day is quiche and a green salad. It's my favourite way to celebrate the fact that we're moving away from winter soups and into summer veggies, so when I found a quiche recipe in the box, I knew it was a great time to give it a try. At first I thought it was odd that Eleanor would have saved this quiche recipe-- there aren't a lot of vegetarian meals in the box, so this one stuck out immediately as a little pretentious and a little random for her tastes... but then I remembered that my mom made Quiche Lorraine for dinner a lot when I was growing up, so maybe Eleanor was into it, too? I guess it makes sense: this dish was invented by Julia Child's co-author (and named for her estate), and everyone who cooks loves Julia Child, especially in 1978, which is when this recipe was pulled from an issue of Better Homes And Gardens.

This quiche is perfect for this time of year, because it's lighter than most winter fare but still manages to be hearty and filling. We had it with a spring green salad with lemon vinaigrette and it was the perfect way to celebrate the onset of spring after a long and dark winter. It's time intensive-- probably better for a weekend than a weeknight, unless you really like cooking. And it's really more of a tart than a quiche-- there are only two eggs in it, which seems low when you realise the vast quantities of onion and tomato in it.

Honestly, it's a great dish for anyone who isn't a huge quiche fan, because it tastes more Italian than French, and if you ate it with your eyes closed you could probably pretend it was some crazy variety of pizza.

The Verdict:

4 spoons out of five. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not picky when it comes to quiche, so my verdict on this was probably going to be amazing no matter what, but Judson is pretty on-the-fence about quiche, and even he loved it. It's filling but not overly heavy, and if you, like us, live in a land where the calendar says spring but the weather outside does not, this is the perfect meal to make because the veggies it requires are winter vegetables: onions and canned tomatoes, reliably good no matter the time of year.

Notes: You can make this with a bought crust, and that would definitely take off part of the time of cooking it. You can also sub in sour cream or storebought crème fraiche OR Greek yogurt if you're feeling frisky instead of the recipe for crème fraiche that follows below, but in the spirit of making the recipe to the letter, I included the details anyway.

The Recipe:

Quiche a la Bramafam

The Ingredients:

The Crust:

2 c flour
½ tsp salt
½ c butter, cold
2 tbsp shortening or Stork
1 egg
3 tbsp ice water
(This makes enough for a double crust, so you can halve it if needed, or just freeze half of the dough wrapped tightly in plastic wrap and use it within a month. I made the whole recipe and used half for the quiche and half for yesterday's pie.)

CRUST:

Combine flour and salt in mixing bowl.
Cut in butter and shortening with a pastry cutter or two knives until mixture forms very coarse crumbs.
Make a well in the center of the mixture.
Beat together egg and water, then pour into well in flour mixture.
Toss the mixture with two forks until it almost forms a dough, then press it together into a ball with your hands as fast as possible.
rap in plastic wrap or foil and chill 20 minutes in freezer or 90 minutes in refrigerator before using.

The Creme Fraiche:

½ c whipping cream
3 tbsp sour cream

CREME FRAICHE:

Combine cream and sour cream in a jar with a tight-fitting lid.
Shake well for at least 30 seconds to blend.
Let stand at room temperature, covered, for a few hours or up to a day, checking it periodically.
t's done ripening when it's slightly thickened and tangy.

The Quiche:

½ recipe crust
2 ½ cups finely chopped onions, from about 4 onions*
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp olive oil
28 oz can Italian tomatoes, cut into small pieces
4 cloves garlic, crushed
3 tbsp chopped parsley
½ tsp dried thyme, crushed
½ tsp dried marjoram, crushed
½ tsp dried oregano, crushed
1 bay leaf, crushed
2 eggs, beaten
1 recipe crème fraiche, or equivalent in Greek yogurt or sour cream
¾ c Swiss or Emmenthal cheese, grated

*Vidalia would be amazing here, if you can get them.

QUICHE:

Line a 10-inch quiche pan or 9-inch pie pan with the pastry crust.
Chill while preparing filling.
Melt butter with the olive oil in a skillet, then add onion and cook for 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally until onions form a thick paste.
Add undrained tomatoes and garlic to skillet and boil uncovered 25-30 minutes more, until mixture is a thick paste, stirring and scraping the bottom frequently.
Preheat oven to 400F/204C.
Remove from heat and stir in parsley, thyme, marjoram, oregano, and bay leaf.
Combine eggs and crème fraiche in a small bowl, then stir into tomato mixture.
Pour mixture into prepared shell and place on a baking sheet.
Sprinkle with cheese and bake 25-30 minutes, until filling is set and top is browned.
Remove from oven and sprinkle with additional cheese, if desired.
Allow to stand 15 minutes before cutting.

Yields 6 servings, perfect as lunch or dinner with a small green salad.