Alpha Bakers -- Golden Orange Panettone

Shortly after Christmas, someone brought a commercial panettone to my office. It was one of those breads in a box that line the top shelves and promotional racks of supermarkets everywhere, and that I rarely consider buying because they have candied peel in them and are stale. This one was not stale. This one was soft and delicious and I ate it by the fistful, ignoring whatever lunch I had brought. I put it down next to the Chocolate Cuddle Cake and laughed inwardly at the success of my decoy as I ate all the panettone. 

Then I checked the Alpha Bakers baking schedule. The next decoy was on me. Rose's version of panettone uses a biga (a stiff pre-ferment) to intensify the flavor of the dough. While this means starting the bake a few days earlier, it's anything but difficult to make. I'm pretty used to refrigerated rises and long baking runs from my various sourdough adventures (and in fact I baked my first sourdough in a while in tandem with the panettone), so as far as I'm concerned all went well. Then the mixing. These soft doughs really are so different when you have a strong mixer. Just throw it all in and whip, and no hour-long slow sighing over a knead. I had some candied orange peel left over from last year's fruitcake (that wasn't supposed to have candied orange peel in it), so in that went along with some dried prunes and dried cranberries. In retrospect, I wish I'd added some candied ginger as well. 

The only thing that was a little rushed for me was the bake itself--I was leaving for Boston the next day and had to get it done, well after midnight. Because of that, the final proofing was a little less thorough than I would have liked, and thus my cross on top wasn't pretty and the oven spring came close to a blowout. Inside, though, the crumb was consistent and light. There has been a lot of discussion about proper flours to use for some of the newer formulae in The Baking Bible. I take the flour suggestions as recommended and use my judgement, which is pretty well honed after years of bread baking. I don't always expect the exact same results that Rose predicts, but I appreciate knowing why she's made her choices and what the rationale behind each one is. Baking, like cooking, is a dialogue, and a participatory one. And panettone is delicious, although I don't really like candied orange peel and next time would probably leave it out. Then it's just basically brioche, I guess. I'm down for that. I think I've mentioned on this blog before that one of my favorite things ever is to sit down with a large loaf of squashy bakery challah and dip it into a bowl of milk. Brioche works too.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Chocolate Rye Cake with Prunes

For those of you still reeling from the vegan beet cake, let me start by pointing out that the rye in the title refers to rye whiskey, and that the prunes were the famous Pruneaux d'Agen, which are apparently to regular prunes as humans are to cro-magnon man. Perhaps the comparison should actually go the other way, as these uber-prunes are supposed to be more earthy, more flavorful, more intense, rather than more subtle and tool using. Still, whatever they are, they're good, and not too ridiculously priced at Fairway.

This is no health cake, although it may have side laxative benefits, but an old-school very French creation adapted from a recipe by the venerable Simone (Simca) Beck, co-author of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Dorie tells a fun story about how tampering with this cake in a restaurant setting got her fired for 'creative insubordination,' which she decided was a good thing. She must have thought it was a really good thing, because her whole book is designed around a principle of 'playing around,' offering substitutes and twists on nearly every recipe. In this case, the cake can be played around all over the place, as long as it includes a dried fruit and a liquor or flavoring. And you get to light boozy prunes on fire. Sticky, dangerous, boozy, this cake has an attitude that I like. The cake itself, I only somewhat liked, I think the texture would have been better if I'd pureed the prunes, or chopped them better. Still, like Simca herself, this cake demanded to be dealt with on its own terms or not at all. (Simca, Matt thought it was great.) I didn't frost it, the better to sniff and revel in all the booze and prunes, and it was a moist, dark, grown-up cake. And now I just want more pruneaux d'agen.