Tag Archives: food

Yeasted Buttermilk Biscuits

22 Apr

In the past ten years, I can recall a total of one single Easter that did not suffer a torrential downpour of spring rain.  Spring (and autumn…and winter) puts forth a formidable battle in the Pacific Northwest, challenging trees and flowers to bloom, then pounding them with the type of rain that can oftentimes only be described as being vaguely menacing.  Easter egg hunts will be completed by children wearing heavy raingear, and casual brunches will be held indoors while a fireplace roars with every effort to try and stave off the soggy chill of the morning.

The upside to steeling oneself for a brisk and sodden Easter is the still welcome addition of piping hot baked goods.  It’s not that warm days do not allow for steaming hot treats that come straight from the oven, but it’s not difficult to notice that such things are greeted with a higher level of affection when presented on a chilly, wet day.  The only downside to making a baking commitment on Easter morning is the inevitable time crunch that will inhibit your productivity and, unfortunately, raise your crabbiness level to DEFCON 5.  Because the Easter Bunny waits for no one.

To remedy this problem, I have come up with the ridiculously simple time saving solution of merely spending the previous evening completing 50% of what needs to be done.  If it sounds totally over simplified, it’s because it is.  You are not, collectively, doing any less work, but you are managing your time in a way that makes it feel like you are getting away with something.  You can crack your eggs into a big bowl and leave them covered in the refrigerator to no ill effect.  You can slice bread for French toast, chop vegetables for a frittata, measure out dry and wet ingredients for pancakes or waffles, or you can whip up a batch of what has become my most favorite addition to any brunch or breakfast: yeasted buttermilk biscuits.

Allowed to sit in the refrigerator overnight, the dough for these biscuits has time to develop a fantastically light texture and flavor.  The mixing of the dough is simple to the point of being almost unbelievable, and the next morning’s work involves nothing more than a couple of passes kneading the dough, a quick roll and cut (assisted, in my case, by an eager preschooler), then a short rise while the oven preheats.  15 minutes in the oven later, you’ve got rich, flaky biscuits that are just waiting to be paired up with some tart jam or a selection of delicious flavored butters.

If you are in the presence of an Easter ham, word has it that these biscuits are amenable to being utilized as a soft and pillowy vehicle for ham consumption.  Brought while still warm to a recent to a potluck, these biscuits were received with great joy.  They were eaten outside, in a newly planted garden, while a soft rain fell.  An experience joining belly-warming sustenance with the damp shiver of the season, it was the perfect signifier of spring’s arrival in the Pacific Northwest.

Yeasted Buttermilk Biscuits

From that old standby, James McNair’s Breakfast 

It’s worth noting that this dough keeps in the refrigerator for several days.  This means that you can keep a batch in the fridge, then cut off, roll, and bake however much you want, whenever you want.  This realization–that I could bake fresh yeasted buttermilk biscuits every morning, several days in a row–was nothing short of magical for me.

1 package (2 1/4 teaspoons, or 1/4 ounce) quick-rising active dry yeast

5 tablespoons warm water (110 degrees to 115 degrees F)

5 cups all-purpose flour

5 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

3 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup canola or other high-quality vegetable oil

2 cups buttermilk

In a small bowl, sprinkle the yeast over the water, stir to dissolve, and let stand until soft and foamy, about 5 minutes.  (Discard the mixture and start over with a fresh batch of yeast if bubbles have not formed in 5 minutes.)

In a bowl or food processor, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt.  Cut the oil into the mixture with a pastry blender or the steel blade of the food processor until the mixture is the texture of coarse cornmeal.  If using a food processor, transfer the mixture to a large bowl (I recommend a very large bowl, because this mixture will expand a great deal more than you think).  Pour in the buttermilk and softened yeast.  Stir the mixture quickly to combine the liquid ingredients with the dry ingredients.  Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or preferably overnight.

Lightly grease baking sheets, or line with parchment paper, and set aside.

Form the risen dough into a ball and turn out onto a generously floured surface.  Knead lightly and quickly, about 1 minute.  Roll out with a lightly flour rolling pin to about 1/2 inch thick.  Cut with a floured 2 1/2 round cutter and place barely touching on the prepared sheets.  Cover with a kitchen towel and set aside to rise just until puffy, 20 to 30 minutes.

While the biscuits are rising, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.  Bake until lightly browned, 10 to 15 minutes.  I bake two sheets of biscuits at a time, placing one sheet on the upper-middle shelf and one on the lower-middle shelf, then swapping the two sheets’ positions halfway through baking.

Makes about 48 biscuits.

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Cinnamon Raisin Swirl Bread

19 Apr

One of the greatest sandwiches I’ve ever eaten came from a small café and bakery in Cannon Beach, Oregon.  It was a turkey sandwich, replete with fresh vegetables and fortified with huge slices of avocado.  I loved the texture, I loved the flavor, but most of all, I loved the bread.  The bread that enveloped this sandwich was a soft, thick cut white bread with a large swirl of cinnamon spiraling through it.  When I initially saw the description of the sandwich and its bread I was dubious (cinnamon bread with a turkey and avocado sandwich?), but as soon as I took my first bite of the sandwich, all my suspicions went out the window.  The bread was sturdy enough to hold together a generous pile of fillings, but soft enough to make each and every bite of that sandwich an absolute treasure.  The cinnamon flavor in the bread was very subtle, and the swirl in which the cinnamon was contained had the same texture as the rest of the bread. The bread had a pillowy crust, a delicate chew, and it was the perfect savory pairing for a sandwich.

This is not that bread.

Whereas the bread from that bakery was gentle in texture and flavor, this bread is loud and commands your attention from the get go.  The first thing you notice about this bread is the shatteringly crisp cinnamon sugar crust that crackles loudly as you slice into it.  The second thing to catch your eye is the gooey cinnamon swirl that puddles into thick caramelized drops as it slowly creeps out of each slice.

The next aspect is the toothsome chew of the bread, not bubbly and chewy like a crisp ciabatta, but certainly not yielding and soft.  Biting into this bread is like biting into something a bit less sandwich-y, a bit more dessert-ish.  It’s not entirely in the realm of a dessert, but it is certainly the sort of thing that, sliced, toasted, and spread with cream cheese or (why not?) Nutella, would easily satisfy anyone’s craving for a sweet roll or sticky bun.

This is, come to think of it, yet another defining characteristic of this bread.  It’s a perfectly sweet baked good that can be enjoyed as a snack, as an accompaniment at breakfast, or as a companion to a cup of tea, but the whole time you are enjoying it, you are overcome with the mild notion that you might just be getting away with something slightly mischievous.  It’s not a dessert!  It’s a snack!  It’s not a cinnamon roll!  It’s cinnamon bread.  And now that I’ve given you every excuse to eat this bread, I think that pretty much means you no longer have any excuse not to get up and make it right now.

Cinnamon Raisin Swirl Bread

Barely adapted from The America’s Test Kitchen Family Baking Book

I am of the opinion that if you are going to make bread with raisins in it, make bread with raisins in it. I found the original recipe’s raisin requirement to be far too scant, so I’ve taken the liberty of doubling the amount in the version below.  Conversely, if you don’t care for raisins, they can be left out to no ill effect.

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 1/4 cups warm milk (not skim, but 1% to whole is fine), heated to around 110 degrees

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled, plus extra for brushing

2 large egg yolks

3 1/2 to 4 cups all-purpose flour

1 envelope (2 1/4 teaspoons) instant or rapid-rise yeast

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 cup raisins

Mix the sugars and cinnamon together in a small bowl.  Measure out 2 tablespoons and reserve for the topping.  Whisk the milk, melted butter, and yolks together in a large liquid measuring cup or medium bowl.

Combine 3 1/2 cups of the flour, yeast, salt, and 1/4 cup of the cinnamon sugar in a standing mixer fitted with the dough hook, or in a large bowl.  With the mixture on low speed, or if not using a standing mixer, with a rubber spatula, add the milk mixture and mix until the dough comes together, about 2 minutes.

Increase the mixer speed to medium-low and knead until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes.  If after 4 minutes more flour is needed, add the remaining 1/2 flour, 2 tablespoons at a time, until the dough clears the sides of the bowl but sticks to the bottom.  If kneading by hand, turn the dough out onto a clean, lightly floured counter and knead by hand for 12-18 minutes, adding the remaining 1/2 cup flour as needed to prevent the dough from sticking to the counter.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured counter and knead in raisins by hand until evenly distributed. Continue to knead the dough, forming it into a smooth, round ball.  Place the dough in a large, lightly oiled bowl and cover with greased plastic wrap.  Let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Grease a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured counter and press into a 20 x 8 inch rectangle with the short side facing you.  Spray the dough lightly with water, then sprinkle evenly with the remaining cinnamon sugar, leaving a 1/2 inch border at the far edge.  Lightly spray the cinnamon sugar with water until it is damp but not wet.

Loosen the dough from the counter with a bench scraper or metal spatula, then roll the dough into a tight cylinder and pinch the seam closed.  Place the loaf seam side down in the prepared pan.  Mist the loaf with vegetable oil spray, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm place until nearly doubled in size and the dough barely springs back when poked with a knuckle, 45 to 75 minutes.

Adjust an oven rack to the lower-middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees.  Brush the loaf lightly with melted butter, sprinkle with the reserved  2 tablespoons cinnamon sugar, then spray lightly with water. Bake until golden, 40 to 60 minutes, rotating the loaf halfway through baking.  Cool the loaf in the pan for 15 minutes, then flip out onto a wire rack and let cool to room temperature, about 2 hours, before serving.

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A Trio of Flavored Butters

14 Apr

What I am about to say may get me kicked out of every food-appreciation club in America, but here goes: I am not an enormous fan of butter.

Now, it’s really as cut and dry as that.  I do, of course, enjoy the way butter adds an unmistakable flavor to a recipe, and, obviously, you can’t bake (and enthusiastically devour) as many things as I do without a fine appreciation of butter, but the habit of positively slathering a biscuit, pancake, or slice of bread with enough butter to create the look of a frosted cake is not really my idea of maximum deliciousness.  While not in any way anti-butter, I so have fairly set standards for where my enjoyment of butter starts and stops.  A light slip of butter atop a slice of warm bread?  Yes.  A biscuit soaked through with a prodigious slick of dripping butterfat?  No.

I am sure this proves some sort of fault with my tasting capabilities, and it no doubt points to some sort of loss of my ability to enjoy the most basic things about simple food and plain ingredients, but I am fine with that.  Why?  Because that possible weakness in my taste preferences leads me to do the type thing that I did yesterday afternoon, which was spend a very pleasant half an hour coming up with creative ways to flavor butter.  Just like that, my loss has become your gain.

The idea here is to use each butter sparingly.  The subtle briskness of the mint, the fresh shot of citrus, the layered combination of the lemon and basil—these are all meant to coax your butter into something a bit more satisfying to the palette than what ordinary butter provides.  If you are not sure that anything in the world can ever top the simple pleasure of plain old butter, I certainly don’t disparage that opinion.  What I do suggest, however, is that you take a few minutes to at least make and try these wonderful flavored butters, as it might just change your opinion about what butter can do.

 

It certainly altered my opinion of the joys of butter, a turn of events that has, not surprisingly, managed to almost work against me.  Whereas I used to eschew butter on my bread 90% of the time (with the exception of fresh, hot bread newly released from the oven), I now find myself looking for reasons to spread these lovely flavored butters on everything I can.  If, previously, my loss was transformed into another’s gain, it seems as though my weakness has now become, well, my weakness.

It would be a crime to relegate these butters as being toppings for just baked goods.  I have visions of any of these butters making for an absolutely dreamy combination when lightly dolloped on poached fish, steamed new potatoes, or roasted asparagus.  I plan to get right on those experiments, and I encourage you all to get in on it as well and let me know how it turns out.

Orange Butter

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted, softened, room temperature butter

2 heaping tablespoons finely grated or chopped orange zest

2 teaspoons freshly squeezed orange juice

pinch sea salt

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl.  Thoroughly combine by beating vigorously with a wooden spoon or sturdy spatula.  If you want your butter to have a lighter consistency, whip butter combination with an electric mixer until fluffy.

Mint Butter

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted, softened, room temperature butter

3 heaping tablespoons finely chopped fresh mint

small squeeze of lemon juice

pinch of sea salt

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl.  Thoroughly combine by beating vigorously with a wooden spoon or sturdy spatula.  If you want your butter to have a lighter consistency, whip butter combination with an electric mixer until fluffy.

Citrus Basil Butter

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted, softened, room temperature butter

1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil

1/4 teaspoon finely grated or chopped lemon zest

small squeeze of lemon juice

pinch of sea salt

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl.  Thoroughly combine by beating vigorously with a wooden spoon or sturdy spatula.  If you want your butter to have a lighter consistency, whip butter combination with an electric mixer until fluffy.

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