Anger Burger

Instead of a big lead-in, I’ll get to the point: make this recipe.

I lied.  There’s a lead-in.  You see, I’ve mentioned this before, but I have this habit of finding recipes online and belligerently believing that there is something wrong with it, even though it is alluring to me.  Perhaps because it is alluring to me.   To put a finer point on it, I tend to believe recipes are too good to be true.  It’s a strange quality of my kitchen hobbyism, and one I’ll just lump under the amorphous description of Anger Burger, like some complex Zeitgeistian German description-word.

Emma Christensen over at The Kitchn shows up with this “Lemon-Scented Pull-Apart Coffeecake” which immediately sends me into rage mode (wtf with that name, yo?), in no small part because her photos of it look fucking delicious.  Immediately afterward the in-laws came for a spell and the recipe went to the not-literal backburner.

And then, today.  Which shall forever hence be known as THE DAY THE LEMON BREAD ARRIVED.

I am reluctant to say anything that might dissuade you from making this bread — after all, I got it right in one try, and that’s saying a lot — but in all fairness, it’s a hair finicky.  Sort of.  I think if anything, it takes a little faith courage.  For example, the dough itself is a little on the sticky side, and as much as I hate recipes that say “you might need a tablespoon of flour to help keep the dough from sticking” (usually this means “YOU’LL NEED SIX TABLESPOONS AT LEAST”), I fought the urge to load it down with more flour to better knead the dough with.  In this instance, wetness is your friend.  Wetness means a nice texture.

The description for how to form the bread is confusing at best, and an incomprehensible logic puzzle at worst.  As Emma Christensen says, the best way is to just visualize what you’re going for (a loaf of individually shaped slices) and go with a gut feeling.  Also, seeing photos of the final product helps a lot.  In a nutshell, you’re rolling the bastard out and layering.

I think that Emma is onto something with allowing the dough to rest overnight in the fridge.  When the time came for me to roll the dough, it was fussy.  I ended up fearing for the worst the entire time I was making the layers; mashing and pulling and pinching each floppy, warm, recalcitrant layer into place, until I was certain I had molested the dough beyond its ability to work it out in therapy.

I was wrong.  Even with this struggle, the bread was perfect.  The bottom gets that cinnamon-roll bottom thing, the sugary, sticky, candied thing.  The top fins are crunchy.  Each piece is saturated with just enough lemon zest to make you smell lemon on your own breath for the next hour.  Ugh.  I’m so full right now and I’m still salivating thinking about it.

So while its a little more work than making cinnamon rolls from scratch, I think it might just be a superior product.  Each sheet is thin and double-coated in lemon sugar.  The loaf shape encourages picking at, the kind of thing you serve for houseguests as a late breakfast and come off looking like Captain Domesticpants, Ph.D..

Long story short: I think this is my Gladiator sweet bread.  Forged in adversity.  Tested in battle.  Victorious in the belly.

Lemon-Scented Blah Blah-Blah Blah Blah
i highly encourage you to read both Emma Christensen’s recipe comments and the original recipe in addition to reading mine (mine has very few alterations, just to be clear).  all together they provide a slightly easier time of it.

dough
2 3/4 C. all-purpose flour
1/4 C granulated sugar
2 1/4 tsp. (1 envelope) instant yeast
1/2 tsp. salt
1/3 C whole milk
2 oz (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
1/4 C. water
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
2  eggs, at room temperature

lemon filling
1/2 C. granulated sugar
the grated zest of 3 lemons
the grated zest of 1 orange
2 oz unsalted butter, melted

• Stir together 2 cups of the flour, the sugar, the yeast, and the salt in a bowl; set aside. In a small saucepan, heat the milk and butter over low heat just until the butter is melted. Remove from the heat, add the water, and set aside until warm (120 to 130°F), about 1 minute. Add the vanilla.

• Pour the milk mixture over the flour-yeast mixture and, using a rubber spatula, mix until the dry ingredients are evenly moistened.  Mixing by hand, add the eggs, one at a time, stirring vigorously after each addition just until incorporated. This can be done in a stand mixer, but isn’t necessary.  This is also very fussy and takes some patience.  Add 1/2 cup of the remaining flour, and resume mixing until the dough is smooth, 30 to 45 seconds. Add 2 more tablespoons flour and mix with a little more vigor until the dough is smooth, soft, and slightly sticky, about 45 seconds.

• Sprinkle a work surface with 1 – 2 tablespoons flour and center the dough on the flour. Knead gently until smooth and no longer sticky, about 1 minute, adding an additional 1 to 2 tablespoons flour only if necessary to lessen the stickiness. Place the dough in a large, greased bowl, cover the bowl securely with plastic wrap, and let the dough rise in a warm place (about 70°F) until doubled in size, 45 to 60 minutes. While the dough is rising, make the filling.

• OPTIONAL ALTERNATIVE: After letting the dough rise, stick the whole thing into the fridge and allow to chill over night.  The next day, resume recipe as normal.

• In a small bowl, thoroughly mix together the sugar and the lemon and orange zests.

• Gently deflate the dough. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough into a 20-by-12-inch rectangle. Smaller is better than larger.  Using a pastry brush spread the melted butter generously over the dough. Cut the dough north-south into 5 strips, each about 12 by 4 inches — again, erring smaller is better than larger here since the second rise will fill up the gaps in the pan.  Sprinkle 1/5th of the zest-sugar mixture over one of the buttered rectangles, lightly rubbing and pressing the sugar into the butter. Top with a second rectangle (it’s ok to manipulate it roughly into place, it can take it) and sprinkle it with 1/5th of the zest-sugar mixture. Repeat with the remaining dough rectangles and zest-sugar mixture, ending with all your rectangles now all stacked on top of each other.

• Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9-by-5-by-3-inch loaf pan. You don’t need to flour or parchment it.

• Slice the stack  through the 5 layers to create 6 equal sections, each about 4 by 2 inches. Fit these layered strips into the prepared loaf pan, cut edges up and down, like a loaf of sliced bread. Remember that the dough will fill the space up as it rises a second time, so don’t feel like it has to be perfect.  Loosely cover the pan with plastic wrap and let the dough rise in a warm place until puffy and almost doubled in size, 30 to 50 minutes. Press the dough gently with a fingertip. If the indentation remains, the dough is ready for baking.

• Bake the bread until the top is golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool in the pan for 10 to 15 minutes.

• To remove the bread  from the pan, gently run a butter knife between the bread and the pan.  Have a cooking rack ready where you want the bread to go.  Using a clean, doubled kitchen towel in your left hand and a oven mitt on your right (switch that for lefties), pick up the pan with your right hand and lay the towel over the top of the bread, covering it with the towel.  Now, holding your left hand firmly over the towel and bread, gently turn the pan over into your left hand, letting the loaf free.  Quickly then, gently roll the bread back upright onto the cooling rack.  It might come apart.  Such is the way of things.

• If you are so inclined, drizzle the top of the warm bread with cream cheese icing, as follows:

3 oz. cream cheese, room temp
juice of one lemon
1/3 C. powdered sugar, sifted

• The bread is best, by far, when still warm.