Rachel's Bread, pre-decorations.
I am pretty loose-y goose-y when it comes to holiday traditions.Very few things recur from year to year: I may or may not have a Christmas tree (even though I love a good tree); I may or may not send out cards; I may or may not make a Christmas dinner.
It's not that I'm a Scrooge, but because there are no kids around, the man and I tend to lean toward the side of doing whatever we feel like doing. (Last year, we made homemade pizza on Christmas Eve and binged on cookies on Christmas Day, before and after a big breakfast starring French toast.)
There is one thing, though, that I have managed to do most every year since I was 15 years old, thanks to a recipe shared with me by my best friend growing up, Rachel.
When I say best friend, I mean best friend. Rachel knew me inside and out and loved me anyway. She was the one person who "got me."
Years ago, I tucked away our many notes from high school, passed during biology lab and complete with illustrations, in a greeting card box — to be whipped out whenever I needed a good laugh or even a good cry. This box of notes is one of my prized possessions. It's moved with me from Connecticut to Maine to Maryland to Florida to Connecticut (again) and finally here, to Vermont.
In these notes, we referred to each other as "Fat Ass" and "Jelly Belly." We drew pictures of where we'd rather be. We talked about the boys we liked — actually, usually men — really attainable chaps like those who starred opposite Julia Ormond in period films like "Young Catherine" and the 25-year-old substitute teacher. We trusted each other with our deepest, sometimes dark, secrets.
We cried in each other's arms, and I have never laughed as much as I did while hanging out with Rachel.
When Rachel became a vegetarian, I decided I would still love her. And when I moved out of state and left all my friends behind, Rachel decided she'd still love me.
Not long after we graduated college, Rachel died.
It's still somewhat unbelievable to me that my young, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate best friend is gone — I miss her every day — and for a long time I couldn't forgive myself that I wasn't there with her at the end. Maybe I haven't yet.
I was far away, in the throes of my early 20s, out of touch with the people in the small town we had grown up in, and I had no idea she was sick.
It happened that fast.
Making Rachel's Bread, a braided breakfast or coffee bread, is the one tradition I manage to continue from year to year. Rachel taught me how to make it in her mother's kitchen. She showed me how to fake a braid and turned me on to dried apricots. She also showed me that a little Christmas kitsch with maraschino cherries and white icing is a good thing.
Rachel's Bread
(makes 3 loaves)
Note: Rachel's original recipe uses active dry yeast (2 packages), mixed with water. I use instant dry yeast, so I mix it with the flour first before adding to the rest of the ingredients.
2 cups sour cream
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
1/2 cup warm water
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 eggs
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There is one thing, though, that I have managed to do most every year since I was 15 years old, thanks to a recipe shared with me by my best friend growing up, Rachel.
When I say best friend, I mean best friend. Rachel knew me inside and out and loved me anyway. She was the one person who "got me."
Years ago, I tucked away our many notes from high school, passed during biology lab and complete with illustrations, in a greeting card box — to be whipped out whenever I needed a good laugh or even a good cry. This box of notes is one of my prized possessions. It's moved with me from Connecticut to Maine to Maryland to Florida to Connecticut (again) and finally here, to Vermont.
In these notes, we referred to each other as "Fat Ass" and "Jelly Belly." We drew pictures of where we'd rather be. We talked about the boys we liked — actually, usually men — really attainable chaps like those who starred opposite Julia Ormond in period films like "Young Catherine" and the 25-year-old substitute teacher. We trusted each other with our deepest, sometimes dark, secrets.
We cried in each other's arms, and I have never laughed as much as I did while hanging out with Rachel.
When Rachel became a vegetarian, I decided I would still love her. And when I moved out of state and left all my friends behind, Rachel decided she'd still love me.
Not long after we graduated college, Rachel died.
It's still somewhat unbelievable to me that my young, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate best friend is gone — I miss her every day — and for a long time I couldn't forgive myself that I wasn't there with her at the end. Maybe I haven't yet.
I was far away, in the throes of my early 20s, out of touch with the people in the small town we had grown up in, and I had no idea she was sick.
It happened that fast.
Making Rachel's Bread, a braided breakfast or coffee bread, is the one tradition I manage to continue from year to year. Rachel taught me how to make it in her mother's kitchen. She showed me how to fake a braid and turned me on to dried apricots. She also showed me that a little Christmas kitsch with maraschino cherries and white icing is a good thing.
Braided "candy cane" bread filled with dried apricots and maraschino cherries is perfect for breakfast or coffee talk. Each recipe makes 3 loaves, so you'll have a couple to gift if you tire of the ubiquitous cookie tray.
(makes 3 loaves)
Note: Rachel's original recipe uses active dry yeast (2 packages), mixed with water. I use instant dry yeast, so I mix it with the flour first before adding to the rest of the ingredients.
2 cups sour cream
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
1/2 cup warm water
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 eggs
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6 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons instant dry yeast
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1 1/2 cups dried apricots, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups drained maraschino cherries, finely chopped
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melted butter, for brushing on baked bread
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icing (2 cups confectioners' sugar mixed with 1-2 tablespoons water)
In a bowl, combine instant dry yeast with flour. Set aside.
Over low heat, melt 1/4 cup butter with sour cream, stirring until combined. Remove from heat.
Transfer sour cream mixture to a large mixing bowl. Add water, eggs, sugar, salt and a bit of the flour mixture. Beat until smooth.
Add the rest of the flour, kneading until smooth, about 10 minutes.
Transfer dough to a lightly greased bowl, flipping so that it's grease side up, cover and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Punch down dough. Divide into 3 equal parts.
Roll each part into a 15x6-inch rectangle.
With a sharp knife, make 2-inch cuts at 1/2-inch intervals up each long side of the rectangle.
Place fruit in the middle and criss-cross the dough strips over top.
Stretch loaf to 22 inches and twist into candy cane shape.
Place breads on greased baking sheets and bake at 375 degrees for 15-20 minutes.
Transfer to wire racks.
Brush with melted butter. Once mostly cool, drizzle breads with icing and decorate with extra cherry slices.
Eat one. Gift one. Freeze one for Christmas morning.
