Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Panettone: Have a boozy, floozy Christmas.

Today's important lesson is that no matter where we're from, we have more in common than different. Take today's bread, for example. Panettone is a Christmas bread originating in Milan. As legend has it, a humble baker named Tony wanted to create a bread that would completely dazzle his sweetheart, the daughter of a rich merchant. To impress the man, Tony added every trick up his sleeve to the bread--butter, brandied fruits, nuts and sugar. The merchant was so impressed that he got not only the girl, but his very own bakery, where he could continue making "pane Tony" to the end of his days.

The secret about this bread is that it is virtually identical to the Christmas breads steeped in tradition from every country. In Germany, it's stollen, in Greece, christopsomo. and so on. These breads all contain similar ingredients, such as fruits and nuts, each symbolizing pretty much the same thing--the gifts of the magi. However, each country lays claim to these recipes, refusing to acknowledge the overwhelming similarities.

Step one: Soak the fruit in booze. I used a mix of golden raisins, cranberries and pomegranate seeds. I soaked these overnight in a mix of Triple Sec, Evan Williams, vanilla and lemon extract.

Also the night before, I made a sponge with the sourdough barm, milk and flour. I let this get bubbly, then refrigerated it overnight.

The next day, I mixed up some more flour, sugar, salt and yeast. To that, I added the sponge, an egg and an additional yolk. I mixed these all together with enough water to make it into a nice smooth ball. I let this rest for a bit to develop the gluten, then added butter and the fruit, slowly working it through the dough. After kneading, it was time for the bulk fermentation period.

A few hours later, it was risen and ready to be divided, shaped and placed in their final resting places. I felt pretty fancy with these panettone molds, and was glad they were only seventy-five cents each, so I can keep getting them again and again. Now, it was time for another rise, until the dough reached the top of the molds.

The dough baked for roughly forever. Ok, just ninety minutes or so. Probably the hardest part of this whole process was letting the bread cool before I ate it. This stuff was seriously awesome. The fruit had a really nice bite from its bath water, and the bread itself was like a very thick cake. I'm looking forward to making stollen, so I can compare the tastes of the two. In another of his books, Reinhart has every holiday-related bread as a derivation of the panettone formula, but in this book, the recipes do differ from one another.

After such a string of mishaps and abject failures, it was really nice to have such an overwhelming success. The best part is that everything from then until now has been wonderful, so here's to many more!

Panettone? Check.
Coming up next? White bread.

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