As I read Eleanor Brown’s The Weird Sisters, I got a nagging craving for fresh, homemade bread. Cordelia, the youngest sister, is pregnant, and when her nesting instincts kick in, she heads for the kitchen and whips up multiple loaves: St. Lucia
There is nothing that is not beautiful about bread. The way it grows, from tiny grains, from bowls on the counter, from yeast blooming in a measuring cup like swampy islands. The way it feels a room, a house, a building, with its inimitable smells at every stage of the process. The way it swells, submits to a firmly applied fist and contracts, swells again; the way it stretches and expands upon kneading, the warm supple fell of it against your skin. The sight of a warm roll on a table, the taste – sweet, sour, yeasty on the tongue. (page 286)
Who knew baking bread could be so sexy? So tempting?
In honor of Cordelia Andreas, the youngest (and my favorite) Weird Sister, I made Braided Bread. The braided varieties were her favorites because she liked the challenge of getting the strips even, then tying them together in such a way that they were still distinct after baking. Here’s the recipe:
