Zucchini Bread

I haven't posted any actual cooking in a while, so here's something that is appropriate this time of year - zucchini bread.

I was introduced to zucchini bread as a child growing up in Green Bay. The recipe my mother made came from Randy Jean Maltby who lived down the street from us. I was a few years older than her girls, but they were around the same age as my youngest sister, and they were constant companions to me and my sisters as we all grew up together. I was first their older playmate, then their babysitter, and then as I reached adulthood, a buddy of Randy Jean's who used to let me in when I needed to escape my own family's chaos. She always had choco tacos on hand, and she made the best zucchini bread.

This is not her recipe, but it's still quite good. This recipe comes from my trusty 1986 Betty Crocker cookbook. And now that the zucchinis are abundant and delicious, my counterpart decided the season was right and asked for a couple of loaves.

I mostly followed the recipe but will note where I deviated:

Ingredients:

2 2/3 cup sugar
2/3 cup shortening - I substituted unsalted butter because, well, butter
3 cups shredded zucchini - this is about two normal sized ones
4 eggs - I used jumbos
3 1/3 cups all purpose flour - I used White Lilly self-rising flour, and if you do this, you can skip the next three ingredients
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon each ground cinnamon and ground gloves - I substituted 2 teaspoons of the dreaded pumpkin spice, but here it is entirely appropriate
1/3 cup each chopped nuts and raisins, which I omitted out of personal preference

I let my butter soften overnight and then used the Kitchen Aid mixer to cream it before adding the sugar like you would for cookies. I then added the zucchini, water, and eggs and mixed that until well combined. Then I added the flour, spice, and vanilla and mixed it a few more minutes.

When I use my mixer, I always like to give things a good stir with my rubber spatula after mixing and before pouring into the pan, just to make sure there are no secret clumps of partially-mixed ingredients. It's a good best practice, and I did that here as well.

For this amount of batter, I needed 2 full-sized loaf pans. The recipe says to grease only the bottom of the pan, which I did. After I ladled the batter into my loaf pans, I sprinkled some coarse sugar on top because that is always a nice touch. My loaves baked up in about an hour at 350 degrees, just like the recipe said they would.

The bread came out moist and sweet with a nice crumb and a mild spice flavor. Even though this did not taste like the zucchini bread of my childhood, it still reminded me of pleasant afternoons spent with Randy Jean and her girls as summer turned into fall in a town far away from here.

Mary Bakes Potato Bread

After a series of increasingly bad dinners that culminated with me being assured that I never actually have to cook ever again, I decided to return to more familiar kitchen terrain, and today I am baking bread.

I learned how to bake bread at my mother's bosom. It was Green Bay WI in the 1970's and grocery stores didn't have bakeries and she had seven mouths to feed on one income. Making bread at home was cost effective and probably more convenient than buying it. Later, when she re-entered the workforce and there was less time and more money, we would frequent the Dolly Madison outlet off of East Main in what is now known as the Three Corners neighborhood. But before such cushy times, I remember a childhood full of a different type of comfort - the smell and taste of home made bread.

This was also before bread machines, and my mother made her bread by hand. I follow this practice even with such modern conveniences as the Kitchen Aid (complete with dough hook) in the house. What I learned from my mother is that it's not just about the finished product. I learned that bread is about family, and that a lot of love goes into it. Bread is also about the process. And the process you follow shapes the end result.

I also learned that dough feels good. I learned this when I was four. Making bread was a family ritual shared by me, my mom, and eventually my younger sisters while my dad was at work and my older brother and sister were at school. Only we younger ones got to punch down the warm dough after the first rise and help knead out the air created by the yeast. And once the bread had baked, only we got slices of still-steaming bread covered with Mom's home made jelly, often made with fruit growing wild in our back yard.

Mis en place

While my mom made a very nice, hearty loaf of white - and then later whole wheat - bread, I make potato bread. I use the Joy of Cooking recipe as my guide. Bread is one of those things that, because it so hands-on, absorbs the energy you put into it. If you knead the dough to work out your anger and frustration, the dough won't rise properly. You also get better results from your yeast when the moon is full. And, all ingredients should be at room temperature when you start as cold eggs or milk will result in sluggish yeast. For potato bread, the type of spud you use also has an impact based on the starch content. I get results that I like best with red potatoes. They have a strong potato flavor and are not too starchy.

Sweating eggs are still too cold

Buttermilk Potato Bread

3/4 cup mashed potatoes, still warm

1 stick very soft butter

4 tsp active dry yeast

2 cups buttermilk

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

2 tbsp sugar

2 1/2 tsp salt

about 6 1/2 cups flour

I'll start with reheated left-over mashed potatoes if we have any. If not, I'll make my own. a couple of good-sized potatoes should be enough. I don't usually measure them out but then add enough flour at the end to make it work. I also season the potatoes with salt, pepper, butter, cream, and herbs.

Using a large bowl, mix the softened butter into the potatoes until fully integrated. Add the yeast, buttermilk, egg, sugar, and salt.

NOTE:

If you don't have buttermilk on hand - I know I never do - you can make your own by adding a couple of dashes of a light vinegar - not Balsamic - to regular milk.

Regular milk

Add some vinegar to curdle slightly

Add the first three cups of flour and blend in with a spatula or wooden spoon. Once integrated, begin adding the remaining flour one cup at a time. After for or five cups of flour have been added, you'll need to give up the utensils and mix by hand. This is a wonderful experience. If the dough is still sticky after all the flour has been added, add a little more until the dough is smooth and elastic.

Smooth and elastic dough

Once it's the right texture, shape it into a ball and place it in an oiled bowl, flipping it to coat with the oil. Cover with a towel and leave it alone to rise until it has doubled in size, about an hour or so. This can be done at room temperature. However, if  the various factors cited above prevent you from getting a rise out of the dough, place it in a warm oven (175 or lower) with the door ajar.

Doubled in size

Once the rise is complete, knead out the air, using additional flour if the dough becomes sticky. Shape the dough into two loaves and place into greased loaf pans with any seams or creases facing down. I am partial to Pyrex glass pans as the glass provides an even baking temperature and creates a nice crust. I also recommend using the full 8- or 9-inch loaf pans rather than mini-loaf pans for a yeast bread.

Cover and let rise again, keeping an eye on things as this rise is usually quicker - about 45 minutes or less.

Bake at 375 for 45 minutes to an hour, depending on how your oven behaves. Pay attention to things after the first 30 minutes. Things baked in my oven tend to develop a dark outer crust before the insides are completely cooked. When the upper crust is just about the right color, I cover the loaves with foil until the rest of the bread catches up. Once I see a golden brown crust forming on the bread in the pan (I can see this because I'm using Pyrex), the bread is done.

Fresh from the oven

Cool in the pans on a wire rack for at least 30 minutes before cutting a piping hot slice, slathering it in butter, and enjoying thoroughly.