Nom-Able

For a healthier version of this recipe, try my Friendly Vegan Bread.

My obsession began innocently enough, with a freely-offered slice of bread from a well meaning, round woman in my office who was a surrogate mother to half of my co-workers and the kind of person who always brings a homemade something to every party, even if you tell her to just bring the plates.

She was scooping out thick slices of a tan bread with her long, manicured nails, talking about how the bread took so long to make but was so worth it. Of course, as with everything else Karen made, this was no exception–it smelled and tasted wonderful, and instantly people were clamering for a recipe. Instead, the next day they received a plastic baggie with an index card an some weird ivory-colored goop inside.

Sadly, I was not one of those people.

For months afterward, I looked for a copy of the recipe, curious as to what this Amish friendship bread was. It was, according to Karen, a sweet, dessert-like bread recipe handed down through the generations from the Amish, and had to be made in glass bowls and glass baking pans with wooden spoons for mixing only.

As the photo above shows (glass to the left, metal to the right) the glass pan thing is a myth. As is almost anything else surrounding the recipe.

Truth be told, I waited a couple of weeks to get my own bag of goo from my co-workers; when that failed, I went online, determined to find a Amish bread co-op or message board group or something. Instead, I found one better: a way to make the starter yourself.

First things first, you should know that there isn’t much “Amish” about this bread. It starts off with milk, flour, sugar and yeast. You add an equal part of each ingredient every third day. On the tenth day, you add such “Amish” ingredients as vanilla extract, instant pudding mix, and dried cinnamon (all of which I’m sure a community that relies on locally grown products has! Honest! Those nice Amish people at my local farmer’s market don’t just repackage what’s already been bought in bulk. They GREW the pineapple rings on that “traditional” pineapple upside-down cake! For real!) and bake. And that’s it.

And here’s where I get on my little soap box and ask you, good readers, what is it about the Amish that people are so gaa-gaa over? Recently, my husband and I were watching a football game, and an add came on TV for a fake fireplace. Seriously, it was a spaceheater all gussied up to look like a fireplace, complete with a wooden panel…made by the Amish! In fact, the Amish limited only two per household, so you have to act now! Ignore that the Amish don’t use electricity, and buying an electric heater from someone who believes electricity comes from the Devil is like buying pork products from a Muslim butcher — yes, it’s probably fine, but do you really want someone who thinks your meat is unclean and unholy to determine the quality of it? What about a Jehovah’s Witness surgeon? Sorry, but I’m going to another hospital, thanks.

For some reason, the Amish have cast a spell over the American people. Kids are shot up in schools every year (not every day, as some places would have you believe) but when it happens to the Amish — an inbred community of religious extremist where child abuse is seen as righteous — it’s a national tragedy on par with 9/11. If the Amish give electric heaters their seal of approval, they must be the most perfect, divinely-inspired heaters ever. And if the Amish make this bread, it’s going to be manna.

Except it’s just milk, flour, and sugar.

Still, it is pretty hella good.

Then again, the Amish do know how to cook.

Not build electric heaters.

One of the reasons this recipe probably endures is that it’s so forgiving. The first time I made the starter, I followed the instructions exactly and got some very good cinnamon bread (as I call it) from the recipe, plus four new starters, all of which I froze because I am selfish. When I moved house recently, I thawed the first one, intent on giving some nice Amish bread and a bag of starter to my new downstairs neighbors. But then, that first night, they were up till 11 PM, stomping around, as they have been every night after that, so screw them. More for me.

Since I am selfish, and since my neighbors are noisy, I use 1/3 c. each flour, milk, and sugar on the “feeding” days. This *should* make enough for 1 cup of starter plus one batch of bread, but I forgot to take out my cup of starter and used the entire bag of starter for the recipe. It was fine.

I also, at some point, lost count of the days. Between learning the new commute for my job, going to some concerts, working on various websites, and other work, somewhere around day four, I forgot what day it was and figured “Well, how bad can it be to just start over?” So I started renumbering the days, with the day I realized I hadn’t fed my bread since thawing it as day one.

Bread still came out fine.

Being on a bit of a health kick, I added two tablespoons of ground flax seeds to the batter. I was a bit nervous it would be too grainy and not particularly dessert like.

Still came out fine.

Also, because I am lazy, I threw the starter into my KitchenAid mixer (a girl’s true best friend — if any of your friends get married, get the rest of your friends together, go to a Linens and Things clearance sale, and buy one — expensive, yes, but your friend will love you forever) and let it go at speed 4 while I added each ingredient on the last day. Guess what? With all that modern, magic, witch-crafty technology, it still came out fine. Superb even.

That’s because it’s “Amish,” and the Amish are magic. Like Jesus.

“Amish” Friendship Bread

Starter:

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 cup sugar

1 cup milk

1 tbsp active dry yeast

10-Day Instructions:

Day 1: Mix up the starter. Put it into a Ziplock bag, which you’ll leave out on the counter all ten days. Don’t worry, even after 14 days, it still hadn’t gone bad. As long as the yeast is alive, you’re golden. I put my bag in a bowl, as the first time I made this, the bag began to leak on day six and I lost half a cup of starter to the mess that resulted.

Day 2: Squeeze the bag several times.

Day 3: Squeeze the bag several times.

Day 4: Add 1 c. of flour, 1 c. of sugar, 1 c. of milk. Squeeze bag.

Day 5: Squeeze the bag several times.

Day 6: Squeeze bag several times.

Day 7: Add 1 c. each flour, sugar, and milk. Squeeze bag.

Day 8: Squeeze bag several times.

Day 9: Squeeze bag several times.

Day 10: Add 1 cup each flour, sugar, and milk again. Remove 4 cups of starter, dividing equally between 4 one-gallon Ziplock bags. These are your new starter bags to give to your friends with these instructions. (Or, if you’re selfish like me, you can keep them in your freezer indefinitely, to make more bread whenever you want.) Move the remaining starter to a glass bowl, and stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, add to your starter the following ingredients:

1 c. canola oil
1 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3 eggs
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 c. flour
1/2 c. milk
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 large box of instant vanilla pudding (Note: it HAS to be instant)
2 tsp cinnamon

In separate bowl, mix 1 t. cinnamon and 3 T. sugar. Sprinkle into well-greased glass loaf pans and coat the sides with sugar mixture. Do not use Pam or other non-stick spray. (Oh yeh, I used Wegman’s brand spray-on olive oil, because I’m a rebel like that, and guess what: IT CAME OUT FINE!)

Bake at 350° for 1 hour or until a cake tester inserted comes out clean.