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)
I miss France and I miss brioche so much and these just look perfect. And I'm in college so don't tell anyone but your story made me miss my parents a little too.
I love your photos - the brioche looks mouth-watering. Happy fuss-less anniversary too:)
These brioches look amazing, just like my grandmother used to make - only a little bit different shape.
They look so yummy that I am literally drooling. I wish I could grab them right now and eat them with that wonderful jam! Thanks for sharing!
The photos are stunning! I can almost smell, touch and taste your brioche. Perfect.... need I say more...
Really beautiful brioche buns. I am making these to bring 2 states away for Easter. I don't think I am allowed to family gatherings anymore unless I arrive with my cinnamon rolls and my brioche buns. I love that.
This looks really good. Thanks for posting it and I will definitely give it a try later this week for me and my husband,
Thanks again,
Grandma Kat
XOXOXOXOXO
I love the sweet, personal story that unravels with this brioche. I wonder if it makes the bread all the more richer and delicate.
Such a sweet story. And wether that anniversary is a small one or not, I'm glad you are taking a moment to celebrate it. We don't celebrate enough in life in my opinion. These brioches look INCREDIBLE.
I am new to your site and I am a fan already. Love your photographic style.
And although I have so much on my plate on this Monday, I really enjoyed reading this post. Great story, well written.
OMG! I'm in ♥
a nice place to hang out, indeed. i love that line. i've been meaning to bake brioche for ages. it was the one bread my mom always baked. i have fond memories of sitting atop a high stool, staring down at the golden dough, watching the dough hook go at it forever. thanks for this, tara.
xo,
m
what a beautiful story! what beautiful brioches! thank you for both...
and congratulations on all the little milestones ;-)
gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous! i wish i could smell these yummy treats through the computer.
I'm totally stumped here trying to decide which is more beautiful, your writing or those amazing looking brioche. In the end I don't have to decide because I think what you have done such an amazing job of here is building that bridge between the food we make and it's place in our lives. Food can hold so many memories and create new ones as well. I love that the brioche remind you of the early years of your love affair with your husband and that same dough is being kneaded into the memories of your boys. Thanks for the recipe and the beautiful writing. I am glad that you are feeling better and I do hope your find what you lost.
Your brioche is gorgeous! One day I'll be adventurous enough to try making it.
Great recipe, perfect execution. Thanks, Tara, for posting it here. I am crazy over brioche. I confess that I ate too many at Culinary School. It was my guilty pleasure...I have to make again. Congrats on your Saveur nominations!
Love the photography on you site...so natural
I landed here in search of the Hot Brown Biscuit Sandwich, and I stayed and I stayed and I stayed.
What a stunning site on all levels. So glad to make your acquaintance and discover your awesome blog!
Brioche...annual attempt to bake cotton candy for christmas