Project Cook: Herbed Fougasse (no recipe)

There’s a new season of a certain baking show out on Netflix which, at least in the US, they are releasing only week by week. I’m salivating to watch it, but because I know I can’t control myself, I’m not letting myself start until I have a good backlog of episodes built up. Instead, I’m watching… wait for it… older seasons of the same show. Surprise!

In a recent episode I watched, the bakers were tasked with making two fougasse loaves as their technical challenge. A fougasse is a bread hailing from southern France, usually flavored with herbs, shaped and slashed to resemble a leaf or an ear of wheat, with a chewy interior and a lightly crunchy crust. It is a bit oily, and is best – in my humble opinion, anyway – when it is topped with some coarse, crunchy salt. It’s the bread N. and I gravitate toward whenever we pick up a loaf from Whole Foods’ bread counter.

If the bakers on the show could do it, even not knowing what the final loaf was or how it should look, I determined I could too. I went for that wonderful, reliable text that is Shirley O. Corriher’s Bakewise, and slightly adapted her recipe for Fougasse with Biga. A biga is a pre-fermentation starter, like a poolish, that adds flavor and helps create a light texture. I subbed in some of my sourdough starter.

Corriher’s recipe doesn’t include any flavoring beyond what’s in the bread itself, but I opted for some mixed herbs – chopped rosemary and dill, and some tiny thyme leaves – to amp up the flavoring.

This is a project cook because the bread requires not one, not two, but three rises before baking. Corriher doesn’t knead much, but uses a stretching and folding method in between rises called autolysis. The dough that results is quite soft and sticky, but results in beautifully chewy, tearable cords of finished bread all the way around the leaf (except, as you can see, in a few spots where the dough stretched a bit too thin – these were aggressively crunchy instead, though still delicious).

All told, these were worth a morning of rises and folds and stretches, and despite that the original intention was to have bread with our dinner, since I wound up with two and they were still warm at lunchtime, we had to at least sample the goods… Next time I will add a little bit more salt to the dough itself – sprinkled on top was good, but the interior was a touch bland – and will not follow Corriher’s instruction to sprinkle the tops with cornstarch before their final rise. I’m not sure what it accomplished, and I didn’t love the look on its way out of the oven. I will add the herbs again, and I certainly will repeat the still-oven-hot drizzle of olive oil and coarse salt, as I did in this iteration.

* quality note: all photos this week taken with my iPhone.

Crouton Cook-off

The problem with spending your whole Sunday thinking it’s Saturday is that you arrive to Monday morning out of breath and without a post to share! Good thing it’s still summer for this absent-minded professor.

This week, instead of a complicated recipe, I thought I’d do a little experiment. Since I can’t make bread pudding all the time (fitting into my summer wardrobe is nice), and I refuse to toss the crusts from my weekly sourdough loaves* but I do still need room in the freezer for other things, I’ve been playing a lot with seasonings and cooking methods for croutons. My favorite way to flavor them, besides good old salt and pepper is, curiously enough, a healthy shake of poultry seasoning. The mix of herbs adds depth, and it’s nice to use that little canister more often than just on Thanksgiving Day. To lighten them up, lemon zest is also a frequent addition.

As for cooking method, I vacillate between baking the seasoned cubes and frying them in a skillet. Since in between salads I forget which I prefer, I decided to conduct a cook-off experiment, seasoning the whole batch exactly the same and then baking half the cubes and pan-frying the other half.

Ultimately, although the oven version came out a fraction crunchier, we determined the main difference between cooking method lies not in end result, but in investment of effort. The oven batch had merely to be tossed onto a cookie sheet and stowed in a preheated oven for about 20 minutes. The stovetop version had to be stirred frequently for about the same amount of time; leaving it unsupervised resulted in quickly burned bread. So we wind up with a win some, lose some set of options. On one hand, preheating and baking probably heats up your house more, but produces a slightly crisper end result with less effort from you. The stovetop method probably doesn’t warm up the room as much, and it doesn’t require as long to preheat, but if you aren’t willing to babysit the croutons, there’s less margin of error for achieving an even crunch without burning any edges. So… for perfect crisp croutons and very little effort on your part, bake your seasoned bread cubes. If it’s summer and you don’t have or want to use air conditioning, bake them in the morning, cool completely, and store in something airtight until the rest of the salad is made.

* If you still have more crusts than you know what to do with, I recently learned stale bread can be composted; see here for a short how-to.

Crouton Cook-off
Enough for 3-4 salads
zest of 2 small or 1 large lemon
1 teaspoon kosher salt or ½ teaspoon table salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
¼-½ teaspoon poultry seasoning
generous ¼ cup olive oil
2 cups bread, torn or cut in cubes of your desired size
  • If you are baking your croutons, first preheat the oven to 350F.
  • Whisk all ingredients except bread together in a large bowl.
  • Add bread cubes and toss well for even coating.
  • To bake, spread seasoned cubes on a cookie sheet and stow in the oven for 15-25 minutes, depending on how crunchy you want your end product. 15 minutes preserves some give in the middle; 20-25 minutes results in fully crunchy cubes.
  • If you are pan-frying rather than baking, heat a skillet over medium heat and add the seasoned cubes. Cook 15-20 minutes, stirring and flipping frequently for even browning.
  • For both cooking methods, set croutons aside to cool before serving. They will crisp just slightly more as they cool down, but not significantly.

Perfect Pizza Crust (no recipe)

I am deep in the final hurricane of grading at present and as such, though I have been cooking and eating (oh, so much eating. And drinking. But mostly eating), I have not been photographing or taking note of quantities. No recipe then, today, but I do have words to offer. That’s the main difference, I think, between food blogging and food writing: the blog has become dependent on artful photography, clever lighting, cunning props and ingredients arranged just so… and a recipe that is easy to follow, doesn’t take too long, and is introduced but not overshadowed by story.

Food writing, though, is about the words. The images, the measurements, the ability to remake the dish in question: that’s not the goal. The aim is to submerge oneself in the language of food. This is, then, a roundabout way of saying there won’t be any pictures on this post. Instead, let me at least plunge you into the shallow end.

We are, it transpires, fond of pizza. Over the years I’ve worked up a dough recipe that offers a flavorful crust with cracker-crisp base and puffy top edges golden with cheese. It rises overnight with the help of just a smidgeon of active dry yeast, and it collects some of its deep flavor and texture from heaping helpings of semolina flour and cornmeal. This is not it.

See, here’s the thing: it’s a good recipe. Really good. Everyone who has tried it has cooed over it. But it’s not the pizza dough of my dreams. It’s too… bready. My dream dough is perfectly crisp outside but chewy and yeasty with a perfect, pulling tear. It’s artisanal pizza dough that bakes up fast and chars perfectly as it faces off against an 800 or 900 degree wood burning oven. It can’t, I must concede, be made at home.

But oh how I’ve tried. I’ve played with Italian double zero flour. I’ve increased kneading time. I’ve added and deleted quantities of olive oil. I’ve played with more and less semolina, bread flour, honey vs. sugar to rouse the yeast; I’ve even tried cautiously tossing the dough (this did not go well). Results (once I cleaned up a bit) were good, but in every case, they weren’t what I wanted.

Until this weekend. In addition to all of the above, as you might expect, I’ve asked the internet. I’ve found all kinds of advice, most of it not useful, but in my most recent explorations two ideas stood out. One was, as I’ve read before, that the oven just has to be hotter. Commercial pizza ovens burn hundreds of degrees above what a standard household gas oven can manage, even if, as Molly Wizenberg describes in her first book, your boyfriend somehow manages to bypass limitations and crank your old machine up to near-restaurant degrees. The other was using sourdough to make the crust. Think about it: breads that use a starter of some kind, whether that’s a sour burbler that gets fed every few days or a biga for ciabatta, tend to produce lovely, chewy interiors with big holes and irregular structures – perhaps just what I was after.

Lucky for me, I was making my regular sourdough loaves this weekend, and determined to feed up a little extra to use in a pizza experiment. Unlucky for all of us, I tinkered and tossed and measured nothing, so my ability to recreate the revelation that happened remains in question. There are too many variables to know for sure what caused it, but this weekend’s pizza was as close to my dream dough as I’ve ever gotten. And it was close. Made with a generous glob of my fed sourdough starter, it rose very little in the refrigerator overnight, but after a few hours to warm up at room temperature, it was puffy and pliable and full of bubbles, and just a little bit sticky. Baked, it had gorgeous oven spring, and though it crisped well and retained crunch on the bottom of the pie, the inside – oh the inside – was everything. Swollen and soft and full of air, and chewy! And because I heeded the other suggestion as well, holding my breath and setting my oven at 500F and consequently cooking the loaded crust for less time than I usually would, I can’t say for sure which variable was most necessary for the miracle that was the pizzas we had Saturday night, easily the best homemade crust I’ve ever made.

So this winds up being a big tease of a post, then, since not only are there no pictures and no recipe, but no way of exactly recreating what I’ve done – even for me! But I can pass along the suggestion that if your homemade pizza dough isn’t doing what you want, and what you want is a chewy interior, use bread flour (or another flour with high protein content), consider raising the baking temperature and consequently cooking for less time, and consider also using some kind of starter and an overnight ferment for both chewier texture and more flavorful crust. And then call me, because I want to come over and help you eat it.

Okay, enough of this words business. There’s leftover pizza sitting made with this amazing crust in my refrigerator, and I’m going to say we’re within safe striking distance of lunch time.

Triple Play Deviled Eggs Crostini

When I planned out this post, I had big dreams: I was on spring break, and I was going to do research and offer you a big history lesson into the tradition of “deviled” foods (short version: in savory items this indicates something heavily spiced, i.e. the mustard or paprika of a deviled egg or the hot sauce of deviled ham). I did a thoroughly scientific examination of which kind of fat – unsalted butter [below, left], mayonnaise {below, right], or olive oil [below, center] – would be best for the crostini (short version: I liked mayonnaise the best. It toasted evenly, it had a mild flavor, and it was easiest since I was going to use it anyway for the egg filling. The butter had a pleasant toasty flavor from the browned solids, and the olive oil not only had the most assertive flavor, which I deemed potentially distracting from the egg, but took the longest to toast). I came up with three filling options to tickle your fancy and your taste buds, and decided I didn’t have to choose – we would talk about them all: how the classic is simple and perfect, but then I thought about tuna salad as inspiration for the vegetable-forward version, and an herby, punchy latke spread for the one with horseradish…

But then I stepped into my “outdoor photo studio” the day of and got so excited about the photography part of this self-imposed assignment that I must confess I ran out of steam a bit. Instead of overloading you with information, I’ll invite you to sink deeply into the Alice in Wonderland garden setting and indulge me my fussy fanciness (though you must admit: these would be lovely as an Easter brunch item, or a bridal or baby shower, or some other spring… thing…).

These made a delicious, extravagant lunch. In addition to being “highly spiced,” I think a good deviled egg needs some acidic component, and these did not disappoint. Despite my love for my “classic” recipe, I found I liked the “Herbaceous” version the best, with its subtle but peppery horseradish tang.

Just a few things before I let you get on to the rest of the exhibit and the recipe itself: one key to making lovely, heaping deviled eggs is to boil one egg more than you want to serve. One of the whites gets discarded, so you wind up with the equivalent of one extra yolk to pile high. Here, I have offered quantities for one crostini of each type, which means you need 4 eggs, but you could easily double or triple the amounts in each individual variety, and you could certainly serve them as traditional deviled eggs, which would entail just halving the whites instead of slicing them. You also certainly don’t have to provide all the intricate little garnishes; I went a touch overboard because I had time and wanted to play. Any of these would be fine without the little toppers. Now on with the show…

Triple Play Deviled Egg Crostini
Makes 4 eggs; enough for 3 crostini (one of each type)
About 30 minutes
For all:
4 eggs
1½ tablespoons mayonnaise
Seeded bread, thinly spread with fat of your choice, broiled until golden
1.) The Classic
½ teaspoon whole grain mustard + additional, to garnish
¼ teaspoon cider vinegar
dash Worcestershire
salt and pepper to taste
2.) Crunchy Vegetable
1 heaping teaspoon finely minced celery
1 heaping teaspoon finely minced radish
6-8 thinly cut radish spears, to garnish (cut a thin slice into thin sticks, as in the photos)
1 scant teaspoon finely minced pickled onion + extra to garnish
salt and pepper to taste
assorted celery leaves to garnish, if desired
3.) Herbaceous
¼ teaspoon horseradish
1 teaspoon finely minced dill + additional sprigs, to garnish
1 teaspoon finely minced chives + additional longer spears, to garnish
¼ teaspoon lemon juice, or to taste
salt and pepper to taste

 

  • First, hard boil the eggs: bring a small pot of water to a rolling boil, then use a spoon to carefully place each egg into the water one at a time, allowing them to roll off the spoon gently onto the bottom of the pot (that is, don’t just drop them in from the top of the water; they will break). When all eggs are added, start the timer for exactly 12 minutes. As soon as the timer sounds, remove the eggs to a small bowl or plate and set them aside until they are cool enough to handle. You can put them in the refrigerator or freezer to hasten this process.
  • When the eggs are cool enough to handle, tap their shells gently all over on a flat, hard surface, peel and rinse to be sure you’ve removed all shell fragments. With a very sharp knife, cut the hard-boiled eggs into slices; I did 4-5 slices per egg. Remove the yolk pieces carefully and put them into a small bowl. Keep the empty whites.
  • To make the deviled egg base, use a fork to mash up the yolks into a fluffy texture. Add the 1½ tablespoons mayonnaise and mash again with the fork until the mixture is smooth. You don’t want any big remaining pieces of yolk.
  • If you are making only one of these options, multiply ingredient amounts by 3 and proceed, adding them to the yolk and mayonnaise mixture and mixing well. If you are making all three, divide the yolk and mayonnaise mixture evenly between three ramekins or other small bowls, and add the quantities specified above.
  • To make the crostini, spread slices of seeded bread with your choice of butter, mayonnaise, or olive oil, place on a broiler pan or wire rack over a baking sheet, and broil until golden brown and crisp on top. In my broiler on high with mayonnaise, this took about three minutes. When toasted, set the bread aside to cool slightly.
  • To serve, arrange 3-4 slices of egg white atop each crostini. Use either a spoon or a piping bag (the easiest is a zip-top bag with one small corner cut off) to pile the deviled filling into each egg white circle.
  • For fancy garnish, top each “The Classic” yolk filling with a few grains of the whole grain mustard. Top each “Crunchy Vegetable” yolk filling with two crossed radish spears and a small piece of pickled onion – mine are the very central slices. If desired, add a few celery leaves to the bread itself, tucked in and around the whites. Top each “Herbaceous” with a sprig of dill. If desired, add a few longer chives and/or chive blossoms to the bread itself, tucked in and around the whites.
  • Serve at room temperature.

Lemon Blueberry Scones

Well, that whole “feeling promising” thing really panned out, didn’t it? I could give you a whole list of reasons I didn’t post last week, ranging from puppy to visiting relatives to bad weather, but the simplest and most truthful explanation is lack of inspiration. It happens every now and then: in spite of my dozens of cookbooks and long lists of dish ideas, sometimes I just don’t get excited about making anything. I used to fret about this, but anymore I try to give myself a break. Some weeks I don’t come up with anything I want to cook for dinner, much less anything worthy of posting here; some weeks I have four ideas for the next week ten minutes after I come home from the grocery store.

To get myself back on track I think I’m in need of a little structure. I did so well back in the days of Twelve Loaves because I had loose guidelines to follow and a set deadline (not to mention I was only working part time…). Yes, last year I had my Chopped Challenge project, but I ended up getting stymied on an entrée challenge N. set me because his inclusion of pretzel rolls put me in sandwich blinders. I just couldn’t see a creative approach, and that led to ignoring the prospect completely. That was, perhaps, too strict a guideline. A touch more flexibility is in order for this year.

One of my friends and former colleagues (hi H!) does a weekly baking project that she photographs and posts about on Facebook. This, with its similarity to Twelve Loaves and the reminder that baking was my first love in the kitchen, sparked a glimmer for me. I can’t always come up with a beautiful, delicious, post-able dish, but I can almost always think of something to bake. So we’ll try that for a bit and see if it feels, to quote myself again from a fresh few weeks ago, “promising.” That doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll be baking something every week, but it’ll be a bit of a safety net for me to rely on. I’m sure my coworkers and our office staff won’t mind either, since they are usually the ones responsible for preventing N. and me from eating the whole batch.

I learned early in our relocation to southern California that winter is citrus season. That being the case, lemon feels right for January: it’s sour but bright, and its color promises spring to come. Zest and some of the sparkling-sharp juice fit well in so many applications. I love blueberries with lemon, and since they were unexpectedly on sale at my grocery store, that was enough of an inspiration for me. I decided on scones, those not-quite-a-biscuit pastries beloved of a British tea spread. This rendition replaces the usual cream with buttermilk to capitalize on the tang of the lemon zest – the sugar in the dough balances out their combined sourness, and if you still want more sweetness, I’d suggest a glaze of powdered sugar and a dribble of lemon juice to spread or drizzle over the top. You can also add some finely chopped crystallized or candied ginger, if you want sweetness with extra zing. I’ve included suggestions for both in the instructions below.

Holly, my new kitchen helper!

Key to scones is not overworking the sticky mixture. One, continuing to work it makes for tougher scones, as you’ll start to activate the gluten in the flour. Two, the more you mix, the stickier the dough becomes. You want it to just come together, and then make use of a well-floured surface to pat or roll out the dough before quickly slicing and relocating the unbaked scones to a cookie sheet. Don’t worry about perfect shapes; they will be delicious regardless.

N. and I shared one of these while they were still a touch warm, and then immediately shared another one. The outside was just crisp, the interior moist and barely flaky, and the blueberries and lemon play well together. N’s favorite thing about them, though, was the occasional crunch of salt – I used Morton kosher salt rather than everyday table salt, and though these are definitely not salty, once in a while your teeth hit a crystal that didn’t fully dissolve in the oven and it’s a lovely little punch that somehow enhances the flavors of the fruit.

Although scones are best on the first day, just like their biscuit brethren, I found these reheat remarkably well in the toaster oven, regaining a bit of crispness. Then, it’s a simple task to split them in half and spread with butter or clotted cream and some jam, or munch alongside a bit of yogurt and fresh fruit, or just pop straight into your mouth as is.

Lemon Blueberry Scones
Adapted from Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger
Makes 16 scones
35-45 minutes
½ cup granulated sugar
zest of two lemons
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¾ cup (12 tablespoons or 1½ sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 6-8 slices for easier integration
1 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 cup fresh blueberries, roughly chopped (this was about 6 ounces for me)
optional: ¼ cup finely chopped candied or crystallized ginger

 

  • Preheat the oven to 400F and lightly grease or line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. In a large bowl, rub the lemon zest into the sugar between your thumb and fingers. Supposedly this releases essential oils from the zest, so its lemon flavor is enhanced. But more practically, it also makes the zest easier to integrate into the mixture (thus helping to prevent overmixing), so don’t skip this part!
  • Whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda with the sugar and zest in the large bowl. Dump in the chunks of butter and use a pastry blender or your fingertips to combine – you are looking for a texture between pea-sized chunks of butter and “coarse meal.”
  • Add in the chopped blueberries, the ginger if using, and the buttermilk, and bring together with a rubber spatula or a fork. The dough might at first feel too dry, but in a minute or two as the buttermilk hydrates the flour it will become sticky and “shaggy.” Knead it by hand two or three times right in the bowl to ensure any dry chunks at the bottom are mixed in.
  • Transfer the ball of dough to a well-floured board, and use a bench scraper or sharp knife to divide it in half. Roll or pat one half into a ¾ inch thick round. With a sharp knife, cut it into 8 wedges. Using a bench scraper or a thin spatula, quickly and confidently move these to one of your prepared cookie sheets, leaving space in between each scone and its neighbors. Repeat with the second half of dough.
  • Bake in your preheated 400F oven for 15-18 minutes, until the edges of the scones are beginning to brown and the exterior is set. The moment you remove them they will look underdone. Let them cool a minute or two on the cookie sheet before moving them to a wire rack to cool completely. As they cool, they will firm up.
  • Once scones are completely cool, either eat them immediately, or if you wish, whisk together about 2 cups of powdered sugar with a few dribbles of lemon juice to form a thick glaze. You can then spread or drizzle this over the tops of the scones, or dip each scone in for smoother coverage. Let them sit until the glaze hardens, and then get on with your snacking.

 

Haters Gonna Hate Pumpkin Spice Loaf: Now with photos!!

People have such vitriolic responses to the phrase “it’s pumpkin spice season” that by this point some of you have already stopped reading. I’ve heard a few interesting theories about why this is, including the idea publicized by a student at Swarthmore College a few years ago that since the drink that popularized this craze is popular among women, hating on it is another subtle way we’ve internalized sexism: pumpkin spice lattes are a girly thing, so just like other girly trends it must be devalued. Vox and various others picked up on this idea, also evaluating the pumpkin spice connection to capitalism, class, and being “basic.”

But I tend to sympathize more with the point made near the end of the article, and which I’ve seen in a few other places, which is simply: there’s enough trauma and horror and viciousness going on in that weird world we inhabit, so let’s let people find harmless joy where they can. And further, let’s face it: by and large, the mixture of warm autumnal spices that we mean when we say “pumpkin spice” are, even if you don’t want them in your coffee, frankly delicious.

So I’m on board the pumpkin spice train, and although I’m not terrifically enthused about them being swirled through my latte, a liberal dosing in pies, cookies, cakes, muffins, or breads of almost any kind is a-okay by me. And since my Trader Joe’s had a big end cap display of their pumpkin butter this week and Los Angeles is STILL resisting its usual September heat wave tendencies, I decided to take advantage of the season my calendar reports we’ve just fallen into (get it? get it?) and bake up a yeasted loaf infused with all those spices pumpkin benefits from.

My loaf started with an old favorite I haven’t worked with in a while: my Nana’s sweet dough. It’s a firm but soft product, elastic and pliable, and though in this incarnation it’s fairly sticky from all the wet ingredients, it just sighs when you roll it out in such a lovely way. I added a full cup of pumpkin puree to Nana’s original recipe, plus the requisite cinnamon and nutmeg the pumpkin spicing requires. You could use ginger and cloves as well, but this time around I decided to complete the trifecta with cardamom; its slightly citrusy brightness feels right for “fall” in Southern California.

To get that luscious, deep, spicy sweetness of the pumpkin butter into my creation, I decided to do a swirl in the center of my loaf: once risen, I rolled out the dough into a large rectangle, smeared it with butter, added a glossy layer of the deep orange spread, and on a whim, zested on some orange rind for additional lift.

This is a monstrous loaf. I bake so often with only sourdough anymore that I forget how high and how certainly active dry yeast rises. Even though it climbed in both its first and second rise, the oven spring as the loaf actually baked was incredible; I couldn’t believe it was holding its shape as it pillowed, hugely, almost like a gigantic Yorkshire pudding, above the loaf pan, and was disappointed but not surprised when it deflated a bit as it cooled; a huge air pocket between the bulk of the loaf and the mountaineering dome was the source of much of its swollen majesty.

Never mind that aesthetic imperfection, though; the loaf itself was a delight. Not too sweet, it boasts a pillowy, soft-but-chewy texture that reminds me of my mom’s challah, but with a subtle pumpkin flavor pushed along by the warm spices, and a just-toothsome crust for a pleasant contrast. The pumpkin butter slathered into the center is sweet and rich, but there’s only a bit of it swirled through the while thing, making the addition of jam or preserves extraneous: it’s baked right in. To me, that means you can eat this at any time of day, just like its latte-based inspiration. Haters gonna hate, it’s true, but that just means another slice for you.

Pumpkin Spice Loaf
Makes 1 very large loaf
About 4 hours
Dough:
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
pinch sugar
½ cup warm whole milk
1 egg
¼ cup softened butter
1 cup pumpkin puree
1 teaspoon vanilla
¼ cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon cardamom
½ teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon salt
2-3 cups bread flour
Filling:
¼ cup softened butter
¼ – ½ cup pumpkin butter spread
zest from 1 orange

 

  • Stir the yeast into the warm milk with the pinch of sugar and let it sit for 5-10 minutes to allow the yeast to wake up.  It will begin to get bubbly and smell warm and bready.
  • While you wait for the yeast, add the ¼ cup softened butter, the pumpkin puree, the egg, and the vanilla into the bowl of a stand mixer (or into a large mixing bowl). Mix with the paddle attachment to combine.
  • Add the yeast and milk mixture to the combined wet ingredients and mix them together briefly using the paddle attachment (if you are not using a stand mixer, an electric handheld or some elbow grease and a whisk will do nicely here).
  • Add the brown sugar, spices, salt, and 2 cups of flour.  Using the paddle attachment (or a sturdy wooden spoon if you aren’t a stand mixer sort of person), mix just until the flour is moistened and you have created a lumpy dough. Let it sit for about 20 minutes to begin hydrating the flour.
  • After the dough rests for 20 minutes, switch to the dough hook (or turn your dough out onto a well floured board) and knead for 5-8 minutes in the mixer, or 10-12 minutes by hand. The dough will be very sticky at first – we’ve added a lot of fat and a lot of moisture.  Don’t despair. Add more flour a ¼ cup at a time just until the dough cooperates (up to 3 cups of flour, though depending on the relative humidity of the day, you might not need that much).  It will still be a bit sticky, but it will become more elastic and supple and much easier to work with.
  • When your dough is smooth and stretchy and a bit springy, plop it into a greased or oiled bowl, cover it with plastic wrap, and set it aside in a warm place to rise until doubled, around 90 minutes.
  • Once doubled, punch down the dough to release trapped gas by gently deflating it with your fist. Turn it out onto a floured board and roll it into a rectangle of about 12×24 inches.
  • Smear the second ¼ cup of softened butter over the surface of the rolled out dough. Add the pumpkin butter and spread this atop the butter, leaving a half inch border at one of the long ends. Sprinkle on the orange zest, if using.
  • Begin to roll up the dough from the long side opposite the edge on which you left a border. Start with the middle and move out to the sides, as you would for a jelly roll.  Continue rolling until all the filling is enclosed, and then fold up the remaining, bare edge and pinch it firmly against the roll to create a seam.
  • Twist your log of dough a few times by gripping it and rotating your hands in opposite directions. This will ensure that a pretty swirl of filling is formed as it bakes. Fold the thinner ends underneath the fat middle and settle the whole thing into a buttered or greased loaf pan. Cover it lightly with greased plastic wrap and set it aside to rise again for 30-45 minutes minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350F.
  • At the end of the second rise, remove the plastic wrap form the loaf and bake it for 35-40 minutes, until the bottom sounds hollow when thumped or the internal temperature is between 180-200F (the thump test is the standard way of checking for doneness on bread, but it seems sort of impossible when you are baking a big loaf in a loaf pan. I prefer to take its temperature).
  • When it tests done, using whatever is your favorite method, remove it from the oven and let it cool for at least twenty minutes in the pan.  This will allow the structure to firm up so it slices nicely, rather than collapsing and squashing into itself when you so much as approach it with a serrated knife.
  • Slice and consume. I don’t think it needs a thing to accessorize it, but especially on the second or third day, a sweep of unsalted butter or a smear of cream cheese probably wouldn’t hurt anything…