Our journey of getting here
Monday, March 19, 2012 at 2:30PM I'm over being sick, hooray for that — and hurrah for your company and all of your magical home remedies. The combination made for fantastic one-two-punch to knock out that pesky cold. While I'm no longer under the weather, I am under the spell of a bout of nostalgia, just so you know.
And, so you know, sometime tomorrow you'll be wanting to preheat your oven to 400°F. There's brioche to be baked.
My husband Sean and I are coming up on an anniversary — not an "official" one exactly, and maybe not the most major in the grand scheme of things, as we've been together long enough that our calendar is peppered with small remembrances to mark our journey of getting here.
It's not an event that warrants a fuss, really. We've both got milestone birthdays next month, so there'll be fuss to spare. He is seven days my senior, a fact that hasn't lost its charm to me in all this time of knowing him. There's a smile in the thought that on the day that his parents were celebrating his one-week-old-ness, my parents were celebrating my arrival.
These small things, these scraps of our shared history wrapped up together, is what led to today's baking.
You see, also tucked in that package of sentiment is the day in May, ages ago, when Sean asked me to live with him. With that question he was also asking me to move to another city. After years studying, then teaching, then working abroad, and across this country, he had returned to the city where he was born. A city he knew well, and was full to its borders with his stories, but one I'd only visited.
I moved. And I fell for that city as I'd fallen for him.
I got to know his friends and made them even more mine. Those guys have good, strong arms for lifting furniture up three flights of stairs, arms that are even better for opening wide in welcome of a newcomer into their Club of Locals.
Together Sean and I discovered the places that had changed in his absence, and he introduced me to his old haunts that had stayed the same. One of those places was a particular deli.
That deli, which is still there though we're not, has aisles of mustards and oils, along with a bakery and a meats counter, and one side where you can sit down to eat things like cabbage rolls and soup. Sean and his folks had gone there when he was a child, and I don't know if it was a habitual stop, but I do know it made quite an impression on his young senses. It was the place where he tried his first chocolate spiked with liqueur. He didn't like it much.
What he did like was their egg bread.
Their bread is actually made into buns, though not the ones we've got here. Theirs is most likely close to challah, though I've never asked. (I really should.) It's scattered with poppy seeds and is deeply yellow and sweet. When he and I would go, we would buy a bag of buns on every visit. They were our usual, back in a time when having a "usual" with someone else felt new and kind of exciting in a silly way.
Today there's brioche on our counter and not challah — the Francophile version (read: stuffed with butter), if you will. It's probably excessive to be considered a usual. That said, it's exceptionally appropriate for a sort-of celebration.
Brioche lives in between bread and pastry, which is a nice place to hang out. It has a proper crust like a bread, with a soft, almost cakey crumb that peels apart in lacy layers like the interior of a croissant. It is deceptively light, dangerously so, as it takes a pat of butter like nobody's business. Top it with jam and, well then, you do things right.
Brioche is yeasted, enriched with eggs, and is hardly a fuss either, though it requires an overnight rest. I prefer to look at that lull in activity as a boon, with the work spread out over two days. One evening, you bring together this smooth, rich dough that does in fact feel much like a baby's cheek — so much so that if you told me that brioche dough was the inspiration for the phrase "soft as a baby's bottom," I wouldn't be surprised.
Then, tucked in the fridge, everyone's off to bed.
I lost something recently; small enough that I didn't notice its absence until yesterday — and then I spent the following hours upturning every drawer I could find, turning out every pocket I came across. It distracted me. I kept looking for it in corners and running to another end of the house, with a sudden inspiration of where it might be. I woke up this morning with what was lost tugging at the edge of my thoughts, like a loose thread caught on a splinter.
But there was bread to be made, dough that had waited hours for my attention. With two small lads in my aid, we learned that silken dough is no match for hands skilled with Play-Doh, and made quick work rolling that dough into teeny rounds, which were then tucked snugly into a well-buttered pan. The buns rested, and brushed with beaten egg as a glaze."Dab, dab, dab, paint, paint, paint" we said. Instructions work best in threes.
Into the oven went our handiwork, and in 20 minutes the brioche rose and bloomed, like clovers.
So on this Monday, as much as I'm annoyed with myself for what I've misplaced, the loss is that much easier to swallow with bread, butter, jam, made and shared with good company, in reminder of all that's been found.
Bubble-Top Brioches
From Dorie Greenspan, as printed in Bon Appetit magazine, October 2009.
This recipe was part of a brilliant article; it is full of charm, helpful anecdotes, and a goldmine of information when it comes to producing dependable results when baking this sublime bread. I highly recommend you give it a read.
bread, brioche, dorie greenspan in baking 
Reader Comments (44)
Stunningly beautiful. Hurry up Apple with that edible screen technology, will ya?
What a well written post. The brioche looks fabulous. (And congratulations.)
so sweet. i love reading recollections of love growing and becoming something so great. this bricohe looks incredible. I've never tried, but I know a certain loved one of my own who would adore this. happy celebrations to you, tara and glad you're feeling better!
Lovely bread. Give what you lost some time. Important things have a tendency to reappear at just the right time.
Tara - hooray for being over the bug! And that brioche - yes, please!! Once I get that silly brace off, I am going to be elbow deep in some dough.
I made these for Thanksgiving in 2009 and have made them many times since. Wonderfully delicious! Happy celebrations to you and yous.
*yours* !
Absolutely lovely post, and lovely brioche too! I've actually never made it myself. I've made challah countless times, but for some reason brioche seems intimidating. But you make it sound doable, will be tackling it soon.
That nagging feeling of knowing that something is lost and cannot be found is frustrating, but as another commentator said - things sure seem to have a way of turning up when you least expect it (like in the crevice of a couch, or in a small pocket of your purse. This bread seems like a fine thing to celebrate with, and to remind yourself that treasures are lost, and treasures are found on a daily basis.
I made brioche recently, and warm from the oven it was one of the best things I have ever eaten. The Thomas Keller recipe is fantastic if you ever decide to change it up
Your heart has been found, whats lost I hope you find....wonderful words.
such a beautiful brioche. I love the way you've shaped them. very unusual and yet, I'm sure it'll become a classic in my house. x
Lovely.
Now please move the lot of you closer to me so you can make brunch on a weekly basis.
love these notes on the journey. i cherish the "getting there" more than anything else with my shaun. the brioche looks brilliant and those tins (cast iron?) are so neat, i've been looking for something of the sort.
I fully support your decision to celebrate the many small anniversaries that fall along the way. Furthermore, these look delicious! Cheers and much joy to you and yours.
Such gorgeous photos - I can almost smell them!
Gorgeous looking brioche and equally beautiful story! Thanks for sharing!
I couldn't find the recipe.
Loved reading this. I think it's a milestone worth celebrating, indeed. And now, I want to make this brioche even more, as I've been thinking about it already for a while. With butter and jam, heaven.
Hello everybody and good morning! It's Tuesday and we've got bright sunshine. I hope it's the same on your end.
RadioGastronomy, Chole and sara, thank you so much.
Michelle, thank you for the sage advice.
Olga, I hope that brace is off soon enough!
Katie, I know, they're such an old favourite around here — classic for a reason.
Annalise, if you've made challah, you can make brioche. I'm sure of it. Just be patient with the butter. Please report back if you try!
So beautifully said, Kasey.
Deanna, I've made the Keller version and I couldn't agree more! I wanted to pass along Dorie's version as I think her article is a brilliant course in Brioche 101. I'll admit though, I'm not always brioche faithful, and vacillate between recipes!
Thank you Kate.
fanny, I can't take credit for the shaping! That's following Dorie's instruction for bubble-topped, cloverleaf rolls. They pull apart beautifully.
It's a deal, Jason. As long as you make the cocktails. xo
kelsey, hi to your Shaun! And yes, that's a cast iron popover pan - a gift from Sean's folks, actually!
Thank you Stacy! The same to you.
Leigh, you're too kind.
Hi, sara! You're very welcome.
Hello Susan, the recipe is linked as "recipe" under the recipe title Bubble-topped brioche. Links on this site appear in blue. Sorry for any confusion!
I hope you do give it a try, Sarah! It's a truly rewarding endeavour.
Your brioche is beautiful, and so is your description of the blossoming of what seems a lovely relationship.
perfect.
A beautiful story of how food can evoke a precious memory. Stunning photos! Dawn x
I've been thinking of brioche lately, and it's been too long since I've made it. I think I've avoided the buttery dough because I love it so much and lose all self control when there's brioche around. :) The rolls look so good, I will just have to bake them. I hope you find what you've lost, and congrats on the anniversary.
Beautiful brioche, beautiful story. Wishing you many, many more happy anniversaries : )