Five-Topping Bread

Summer as a retired woman. The word "retired" sits in my mouth like a piece of food I haven't learned to chew yet — unfamiliar, not quite right, requiring adjustment. I am not retired. Retired implies cessation. I have not ceased. I have pivoted, which is a word Rebecca would use and which I am borrowing because it is more accurate than "retired." I have pivoted from the classroom to the kitchen, from teaching students to feeding everyone, from the green light of Gatsby to the golden crust of challah. Both are illuminations. Both require attention. Both are worth a life.

The days have a new rhythm. Morning: cook. Afternoon: write. Evening: care for Marvin. The rhythm is not as clean as the school year's rhythm — there are no bells, no periods, no homework to collect — but it is a rhythm, and rhythm is what keeps me upright. Mornings in the kitchen are the new first period. The blog posts are the new essays. The readers are the new students. The stove is the new blackboard. Everything has a parallel. Nothing is lost. Everything is translated.

I wrote three blog posts this week. Three. In my teaching years, I managed one a week, written in the cracks between grading and lesson planning and living. Now the cracks have expanded into continents, and the writing rushes in like water finding its level. The posts are longer, more ambitious, more personal. I wrote about Sylvia's kitchen with a depth I have never achieved before — not just the recipes but the geometry of the space, the angle of the light, the sound of Sylvia's slippers on the linoleum, the particular way she held a knife (loosely, confidently, the way a surgeon holds a scalpel, with the understanding that the instrument is an extension of the hand and not the other way around). The post was two thousand words. It was the best thing I have ever written.

Marvin had a bad day on Wednesday. He did not recognize the house. He stood in the hallway and said, "Where am I?" and the question was not confused, it was frightened, and the fear in his eyes was the fear of a man who has woken up in a strange place and cannot find the door. I took his hand. I said, "You're home, Marv. This is our home." He gripped my hand. The grip was tight. The grip said: don't let go. I did not let go. I have not let go.

The summer continues. The pivot continues. The cooking continues. The writing expands. The disease advances. The kitchen holds everything.

The night after Marvin stood frightened in his own hallway, I needed to make something with my hands — something that required me to press and fold and wait, the way grief requires pressing and folding and waiting. I turned to this Five-Topping Bread, which I have made in variations ever since Sylvia first showed me how forgiving an enriched dough can be. What I love most about it is the five toppings: you make one loaf, but you can finish it five different ways, because a single thing can hold multitudes — a lesson this summer keeps teaching me.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 1 hr 55 min (includes rise) | Servings: 16 slices

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (one standard packet)
1 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tsp fine salt
3/4 cup warm water (110°F)
2 large eggs, divided
3 tbsp neutral vegetable oil
1 tbsp water (for egg wash)
Topping 1: 1 tbsp sesame seeds
Topping 2: 1 tbsp poppy seeds
Topping 3: 1 tbsp everything bagel seasoning
Topping 4: 1 tsp flaky sea salt — 1 tsp dried rosemary, crumbled
Topping 5: 2 tbsp finely grated Parmesan cheese

Instructions

Proof the yeast. In a large bowl, combine warm water, sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let stand 5–8 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, your yeast is inactive; start again with a fresh packet.
Mix the dough. Whisk 1 egg and the vegetable oil into the yeast mixture. Add the flour and salt. Stir with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface.
Knead. Knead the dough for 8–10 minutes, until smooth, elastic, and slightly tacky but not sticky. Add flour one tablespoon at a time only if the dough is sticking persistently to your hands. Shape into a ball.
First rise. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, turn once to coat, and cover with a clean kitchen towel. Let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
Shape the loaf. Punch down the dough gently. On a lightly floured surface, shape it into an oval loaf roughly 9 inches long. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Divide and score for toppings. Using a sharp knife or bench scraper, lightly score the top of the loaf into 5 equal lengthwise sections without cutting all the way through. These lines will guide the topping placement and give the finished loaf its signature look.
Apply egg wash and toppings. Whisk the remaining egg with 1 tbsp water. Brush the entire surface of the loaf generously with egg wash. Working section by section, sprinkle each of the five toppings into its own scored lane, pressing lightly so they adhere.
Second rise. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest 20 minutes while you preheat the oven to 375°F.
Bake. Bake on the center rack for 28–32 minutes, until the loaf is deep golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. An instant-read thermometer inserted in the center should read 190°F.
Cool. Transfer to a wire rack and cool at least 15 minutes before slicing. The interior will finish setting as it cools — resist cutting too soon.

Nutrition (per serving)

Five-Topping Bread — The Kitchen That Holds Everything