Buttermilk Cinnamon Bread

Week 498, and the apples arriving, the squash at the farm stand, the light turning golden, the kitchen shifting to soups and stews. I am 68 years old and the days have a rhythm now — the morning writing, the afternoon visits to Cedarhurst, the evening cooking, the weekly blog post — and the rhythm is the structure, and the structure is the sanity, and the sanity is required because the rest of it, the losing and the loving and the carrying, requires a sane woman at the helm, and I am sane, mostly, except when I cry in the car in the Cedarhurst parking lot, which is not insanity but its opposite: the specific, targeted release of emotion in a contained space, which is the most rational thing I do all week.

Support group; Marvin eating less; Doris on eating as measuring; adjusting. These are the facts of the week, the data points, the things I would put in a report if I were writing a report, which I am not — I am writing a life, and the life includes the facts but is not limited to them, because the life also includes the way the kitchen smells at six in the morning when the coffee is brewing and the challah is rising and the house is quiet and the quiet is both the grief and the peace, simultaneously, and the simultaneous is the condition, the permanent condition of a woman who is 68 and alone and not alone, who is a grandmother and a wife and a writer and a cook and a caregiver and all of these things at once, always at once, braided together like the challah.

I made chicken soup this week — because it was what the week needed, because the week always needs something and the something is always food, and the food is always the answer, and the answer is always the kitchen, and the kitchen is always mine, and the mine-ness of the kitchen is the one thing that has not changed in sixty-seven years of living, from Sylvia's kitchen on the Grand Concourse to this kitchen in Oceanside where I stand every morning and every evening and many of the hours in between, making the food that is the chain, that is the love, that is the thing I do when I don't know what else to do, which is always, and especially now.

I brought food to Marvin at the usual time. The visit was what visits are now — quiet, steady, the feeding by hand when necessary, the reading aloud always, the holding of the hand that may or may not know it is being held but that is warm and alive and present, which is the definition of love in this particular year: warm and alive and present. He ate what I brought. He received what I gave. The receiving is the relationship. The receiving is the vow. In sickness and in health, in recognition and in forgetting, in the recliner and in the kitchen, the receiving is the marriage, and the marriage continues, one container at a time, one visit at a time, one day at a time, at two o'clock, every day, because the chain does not break.

The chicken soup was what the week needed, but this bread was what the morning needed — the kind of thing that rises while you write, that fills the kitchen with cinnamon and warmth while the coffee brews and the house is still quiet, that is ready by the time the day begins in earnest. I have been baking bread my whole life, and I will tell you that there is no more honest act than putting your hands in dough: it asks for nothing but time and attention, and it gives back warmth, and warmth is what I have to give and what I am always trying to give, one loaf at a time, one container at a time, one visit at a time.

Prep Time: 20 minutes + 1 hour 30 minutes rising | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 25 minutes | Servings: 12 slices

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (one 1/4-oz packet)
1 cup buttermilk, warmed to about 110°F
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, divided
3 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
1 teaspoon fine salt
1 large egg, room temperature
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed

Instructions

Proof the yeast. In a large bowl, combine the warmed buttermilk, 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, and the yeast. Stir gently and let stand 5–8 minutes until foamy. If the mixture does not foam, your yeast may be expired; start again with fresh yeast.
Mix the dough. Add the egg, vanilla, 2 tablespoons of the softened butter, the remaining 2 tablespoons granulated sugar, and the salt to the yeast mixture. Stir to combine. Add the flour one cup at a time, stirring until a shaggy dough forms.
Knead. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8–10 minutes, until smooth and elastic. The dough should be slightly tacky but not sticky. Add flour a tablespoon at a time only if needed.
First rise. Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm spot for about 1 hour, until doubled in size.
Make the cinnamon filling. In a small bowl, stir together the brown sugar and cinnamon. Set aside.
Shape the loaf. Punch the dough down and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Using a rolling pin, roll the dough into a roughly 9 x 12-inch rectangle. Spread the remaining 1 tablespoon softened butter evenly over the surface, leaving a 1/2-inch border on the short sides. Sprinkle the cinnamon-brown sugar mixture evenly over the butter. Starting from one short end, roll the dough tightly into a log. Pinch the seam and ends closed.
Second rise. Place the log seam-side down into a greased 9 x 5-inch loaf pan. Cover loosely with a towel and let rise 25–30 minutes, until the dough crowns about 1 inch above the rim of the pan.
Bake. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake the loaf for 30–35 minutes, until deep golden brown on top and the internal temperature reads 190°F on an instant-read thermometer. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the last 10 minutes.
Cool. Let the bread rest in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool for at least 20 minutes before slicing. The cinnamon swirl will hold together better if you let it cool fully, though warm is also very good.

Nutrition (per serving)

Buttermilk Cinnamon Bread — The Chain That Doesn’t Break