Since the Worldwide Vegan Bake Sale is this week — and not one of the four sites I contacted in the Princeton area would give me space to set up a table — I decided to post a brand new, never before seen, Elizabeth-original recipe in honor of the WWVBS. Of course, the question was, “Do I make a new recipe from scratch or do I veganize an old favorite?”

One of the most consistently popular, linked to, and visited pages on this site is my page about “Amish” Friendship Bread, which I pretty much pointed out is not actually Amish and the “friendship” part is debatable. With several cups of milk and three eggs in the mix, it’s pretty animal unfriendly, to start. And then there’s the issue of human friendships. I mean, imagine being saddled with a bag of goop you have to pay attention to for ten days, implored by instructions not to throw it out, freeze it, waste it, or use it as a top hat. I’m not necessarily sure I’m going to be your friend any more after you abandon your “Amish” baby on my stoop, kiddo — especially not one that results in a several-hundred-calorie-per-slice diet killer. Then, assuming I don’t bin the starter, I have to pass it off onto my friends — and how friendly they’ll be after I dump it (metaphorically speaking) in their laps is a question for the ages. Hell, the only thing friendly about this bread is the starter itself, which will take your neglect and abuse with gentle good humor and still produce that fattening cinnamon pound cake that’s about as Amish as an electric fireplace.

But what if, and I know this is just crazy talk but, what if I told you I figured out a way to make a version of this that was friendly to your co-workers, animals, and your waistline. What then?

Wonder no more, my dears, as I present to you Friendly Vegan Bread. It’s Amish Friendship Bread with all the usual substitutions — and reduced in size to make exactly one loaf plus a cup of starter!

“Devil magic!” I hear you cry, but worry not, there is nothing devilish about this bread!

There were, obviously, some considerable obstacles. The first, in my mind at least because it’s where my mind naturally goes first, was the pudding. I usually use Jell-O brand vanilla instant pudding (in fact, some versions of the recipe even specify the Jell-o brand) but is that vegan? I googled, but my google-fu failed me, turning up only a PETA website that listed Jell-O instant pudding in vanilla and pistachio as animal-friendly. However, several other items on their grossly out of date (read Web 1.0…or earlier. Nearly BBS-era!) site have since changed their formulas to use whey, gelatin, or other fun products whose origins you really don’t want to know.

Next, I decided to put that awesome tool Twitter to some use and send a tweet to the only person I could think of who’d know the answer. Except she didn’t.

So I bought the pudding anyway. And checked each ingredient in Wikipedia. It was solid.

I debated for a while about the virtues of almond milk for baking verses the virtuous nature of light soy milk as my milk substitute — a decision that was otherwise pretty straight forward — and went with the almond milk mostly for the taste and texture. I did start a soy starter as well, but it immediately separated into a clear, oil-like fluid and a dense, pudding layer, so I decided to stick with the almond milk.

There was also some silent, mental debate about how to pull three eggs out of a recipe without totally fucking it up, especially since I was already having the oil and throwing in applesauce, which ruled out my first instinct: turn this thing into banana bread! After some serious rumination on the subject and toying with the idea of either buying scary-as-hell Ener-G powdered egg substitute or maybe forgoing the whole “waist-friendly” angle and using ground flax seeds, I settled on soy yogurt, and that was that. I imagine some canned pumpkin, along with a bit of ground nutmeg and ginger, could nicely substitute for the egg and turn this into a very nice fall-themed dessert, but I was worried about the density. As the final recipe stands, it comes out about the same texture and density as a pound cake — anything heavier might upset the balance into brick territory.

I also, for health’s sake, pondered taking out the final sugar addition and subbing agave nectar — which I love and cannot live without — but knew that’d necessitate a reduction in the already halved oil — great for the waistline, but I wasn’t so sure about the texture and density. For next time, to be sure.

One thing I will say for the final recipe: the flavor was exactly the way I remember it being, and the texture was very nice indeed — moister than the original, I’d say.

Now, this recipe is a work in progress — I might tweak it a bit to help reduce the cooking time (which was substantially increased) — without decreasing the temperature, which I had to do, as my first experiment came out good, but burnt. Also, most milk substitutes are a bit denser than cow’s milk, so I’m going to propose light soy milk rather than the full-fat almond milk, though I did notice a distinctive soy milk taste when I used plain soy instead of vanilla almond milk. If you find a tweak to the recipe that makes it even better, please let me know!

As with the usual Amish Friendship Bread, if you want to pass this along — start a baking chain letter of vegan-friendly bread would be kind of revolutionary and in the spirit of the Worldwide Vegan Bake Sale — add a cup each of almond milk, sugar, and flour on Day 4, Day 7, and Day 10. If you’re selfish (or considerate of your non-baking friends), just follow the single recipe below, which makes enough for one loaf and a single one-cup starter for your next loaf. In ten days.

Friendly Vegan Bread

For the Starter
• 1 c. flour
• 1 c. sugar
• 1 c. almond milk (or your favorite non-dairy milk
• 1/4 oz (2 1/2 tsp) active yeast (not rapid-rise).

Day One: Mix ingredients together in a plastic bowl or baggie until just moistened (do not over mix). Cover.

Day Two: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Three: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Four: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Five: Add to the bowl/bag:

• 1/4 c. flour
• 1/4 c. sugar
• 1/4 c. almond milk

Mix until moist and re-cover.

Day Six: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Seven: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Eight: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Nine: Burp the bowl/bag. Mix. Re-cover.

Day Ten: BAKING DAY!

Bread Ingredients
• 1/2 c. canola oil
• 1/2 c. applesauce (natural, no-sugar added)
• 1 c. sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 6oz. Silk Vanilla Soy Yogurt (or your favorite vanilla vegan-friendly yogurt)
• 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 (Yes, Jell-O is vegan. I checked.)
• 2 tsp cinnamon

Baking Instructions
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.
2. Spray a loaf pan with non-stick cooking spray.
3. Remove one cup of batter from your bag/bowl and set aside. Pour remaining starter into a large mixing bowl. Return the reserved cup to the bowl/bag. You can either begin the ten day cycle again or just freeze this for another time or use.
4. To the starter, add the flour, sugar, and milk. Mix well, then allow to rest about ten minutes.
5. Add remaining ingredients to the batter, mixing well.
6. Pour batter into pan. Bake at 325 degrees for one to one-and-a-half hours, or until a cake tester comes out clean

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.

Making bread is one of those things that I always imagined was incredibly difficult, that only experienced bakers and the Amish could do. But, then the day comes when you really want some bread — some nice, crusty French bread — and you really can’t justify driving all the way to the nearest grocery store to buy some. Especially not when the weather is incredibly shitty.

This leaves an inevitable dilemma: you want the bread now, but you don’t want to drive to the grocery store. I guess it’ll just be a breadless evening, right?

A quick google search yielded no results for quick and satisfying crusty bread. I headed over to The Fresh Loaf, a site that belongs to the husband of a friend of mine — no luck. In fact, the one two hour recipe posted there was quickly ridiculed by the more experienced artisanal bread makers as terrible, though few if any had tried it, and I was almost at the point of giving up hope when a chain of links lead me to a recipe — with photos to prove it could be done — for 2 and a half hour French bread.

Naturally, I was skeptical. A recent mailing from Wegmans included information on their new Italian bread, which they were now letting rise 24 hours instead of 2, to give it an authentic taste and crust. I was practically heartbroken, but my desire for crusty bread won over my feelings of doubt and lack of self confidence. The ingredients list was sufficiently short enough to quell any remaining feelings of wasteful remorse instilled in childhood. If I screw this up, it’s only flour, water, and yeast. No pain no gain.

Now, I’ve always had a bit of bad luck with yeast and it’s offspring. Pretzels I tried to make in Girl Scouts as a child always ended up being thin and crunch and ridiculed by my Philadelphian classmates who knew what a soft pretzel should look and taste like — and naturally were able to make theirs perfect. An attempt at pizza dough in 1999 left me with dough that never rose properly, and thin, cardboard like crusts. I pretty much figured from then on out that I wasn’t good at this whole playing with a living ingredient thing, so I just gave up.

Now, this was my chance, my opening into a whole new world of yeast-based doughs. I was going to give it one more chance, one last attempt before forever abandoning any ideas of being a bread maker.

Flaky on the outside, chewy and soft on the inside — it was perfect.

Three-Hour French Bread

4 cups bread flour

2 tsp active quick rising dry yeast

2 tsp salt

1 1/2 cups warm water

1. Put 1/4 cup of bread flour on your clean counter top and reserve. Place remaining 3 3/4 cups bread flour in your mixer bowl. Spoon the yeast on one side of the bowl, and the salt on the other side. Pour in the warm water and with your regular mixer paddle, mix on low speed until the dough comes together in a mass. Switch to the dough hook. Mix on medium speed for 2 minutes. Dough should clear the sides but stick to the bottom. If it is too sticky, add 1 T of flour at a time. If too dry, add 1 T of water to dough to adjust. After 2 minutes, let the dough rest for 5 minutes.

2. Turn the mixer on again and mix for 3 minutes. Take the dough out and place on the counter. Remember that 1/4 cup of flour that we reserved? We’ll use it now. As you knead the dough by hand, incorporate more flour as you need. You might not need it all. Knead by hand until the dough is very satiny, smooth, tight and formed into a nice, compact ball.

Place this dough in a large lightly oiled bowl (I use Pam spray). Turn dough over so that all sides have a thin coating of oil. Cover with plastic wrap and set in warm place for 1 1/2 hours. Dough should almost double in size. Punch dough down and form back into a ball. Poke your finger on the surface – the dough should give into the pressure and slowly creep back up.

3. About 1 hour into the rest stage, preheat your oven to 450F (convection 425F). Place your pizza stone, inverted baking sheet or covered cast iron pot into the oven to heat up.

4. Ok, here’s the fun part. Cut the dough into half – you’ll shape one half at a time (keep the other piece under wraps) Pick up the dough – stretch it out until it forms a big rectangle. On your countertop dusted with flour, fold over the ends. Now do a little “karate chop” lengthwise down the middle of the bread and stretch out the long ends again. Fold over in half. The karate chop helps get the middle tucked inside. Pinch all sides shut. This is important – you want to make sure that all ends including the short ends are pinched tightly to create a seal. This allows the bread to rise & expand up and out evenly. If the bread looks a little lopsided, you can try to fix it by letting it rest 5 minutes and gently stretching it out again. Just don’t knead the dough again – you’ll pop all the beautiful gas that took 1.5 hours to create!

5. Turn the bread over so that its seam side down. Cover the loaf with a damp kitchen towel. Repeat with the other dough halve. Leave the loaves to rest on your well-floured pizza peel or cutting board for 30 minutes. After resting, take a sharp paring knife and make 3-4 shallow, diagonal slashes on the surface of the loaf. This allows the steam in the bread to escape so that it expands evenly during the baking process.

When you are ready to bake, remove your baking vessel. Carefully slide the gorgeous loaf into or onto your baking vessel. Get a 1/2 cup of water ready next to the stove. Open the stove, put your bread in the oven and throw the water on the oven floor. (Ed. Note: I put a jelly roll pan on the bottom rack of a cold oven and then preheated the sheet in the oven; when it was time to bake, I put my baking stone on the top, and threw the water on to the jelly roll pan.) Immediately close the oven door. This creates your steam. -> Bake 20-25 minutes. Check temperature of the bread – internal should be 190-210F. Remove and let cool before cutting into it.