Sunday, July 8, 2012

Reasons for Raisin Bread

Ready for butter

Really not quite this yellow, but you get the idea

Stiff dough not yet greased

After the second rising.  Oven ready!












































It’s a rainy Sunday morning and my wife is at church.  I’m left to my own vices…I mean devices.  Too early for even a small glass of beer.  Too early to chase some sweet young thing, and besides, I’m married and my knees aren’t what they used to be.

Watching TV on Sunday morning is for sissies. Already read a novel for a couple of hours, sipped my coffee and did a Sudoku.  My sons will soon arrive home after a weekend of debauchery at a squalid rock concert.   That’s not envy you hear in my voice.  I swear it’s not.

Perhaps a winding, forest drive to a log rolling fest?  There’s one nearby that proposes to show how they did it in the old days.  Did logs float differently back when men were men and winked at each other when someone suggested ‘log rolling?’  Probably not, but Germans will grab any sliver of opportunity to drink bier and eat wurst.  My kinda guys.

I think I’ll make some raisin bread.  Why make it when you can buy it?  The nearby German bäckerei usually does a superb job on breads, but their raisin bread is a little thin on raisins.  I don’t know why. Maybe a stiff tax on dried fruit. In any case, there’s a reason raisin is in the singular. Or, I could go to a grocery and buy tasteless ‘air bread,’ with the odd raisin included as an afterthought.

No.  None of that.  I want bread that slices in thick slabs and holds more butter than a dairy churn.  I want raisin bread that looks like an anthill when you cut it open.  I want the fresh bread aroma that permeates every pore and makes a man forget about sex for three or even four minutes.  Well, possibly four.

Also, when my sons eventually run out of money and beer and come home I want them to see not only my beautiful loaf of raisin bread, but what life is like after they’re married, de-clawed, and domesticated.

Raisin Bread


1 package active dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water (110-115ºF or 43-46ºC)
1 1/2 cups raisins (I use golden raisins, but whichever you use, make sure they’re not dry and hard)
1/3 cup soft butter
1/4 cup sugar (more if you want a sweet version, in which case consider also adding cinnamon)
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt (don't skimp or the bread will be bland)
1/2 cup scalded milk
3 3/4 cups all-purpose flour (approximately)
2 eggs, smashed and badly beaten

Preparation:

Dissolve the yeast in warm water, with a pinch or two of sugar added. In a few moments the yeast will ‘proof,’ or bubble up.  (see photo)

In a large bowl, combine raisins, butter, sugar, salt, and hot milk; stir to dissolve the sugar. Let mixture cool to lukewarm. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of the flour; beat well. I use a hand beater.

Add the yeast mixture and the beaten eggs; blend well.

At this point, use your hands to mix and knead. Add a cup of the remaining flour to make a soft, but stiff dough.   Add additional flour as needed to make your dough stiff, probably half a cup.  At this point you should have about a quarter of a cup of flour left.

Knead the dough in the large bowl for about 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Dust with the remainder of the flour as needed to keep the dough elastic and not sticky.

Leave the dough in the bowl.  Drizzle some vegetable oil over it, turning to grease the whole surface. The dough should look wet, but not be overly greasy.

Put the greased dough in a gallon-sized plastic bag.  Close it, but leave an inch long opening for gas to escape. Let stand in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.  I put mine in a cold oven, leaving the oven light on.

When the dough has risen, punch it down and shape into a loaf; place in a greased 8x4x3-inch loaf pan. Put it back in the cold oven and let it rise again for about 45 to 60 minutes, until almost double.

Bake at 375° for 25 minutes, placing foil over loaf the last 10 minutes, if the loaf is getting too brown on top.  Every oven is different.  If yours, like mine, is hotter on the top rack, bake this bread on the bottom rack to keep it from drying out, or decrease the cooking time by five minutes.

Remove loaf from the pan and let it cool on a rack.

Slice to your preference and slather on the butter.

If your sons are getting home soon, eat your fill before they get back.


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