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Orange Pull-Apart Bread -- Baking Through the Blur of New Beginnings

Three weeks. The lockdown has settled into a rhythm the way all sustained things eventually do. Sean is working remotely for the parts of his job that can be done remotely—project coordination, client calls, the administrative parts—and going to the site every few days for the parts that can't. Construction has an essential designation, conditionally, and his crew is running reduced. He comes home, changes clothes in the doorway, leaves them in a bag. New protocols for the apartment. We don't discuss them; we just do them.

Liam and I have developed a daytime rhythm while Sean is gone: breakfast, outside time (twenty minutes around the block), Nora's morning feeding, Liam's independent play while I do the feeding, lunch, nap, afternoon project. The afternoon project is usually drawing or the playdough or the simple cooking thing I let him help with. He has helped me make bread three times this month. He punches the dough. He is excellent at punching the dough.

Nora at three weeks is the same as Liam was at three weeks—eating, sleeping, looking—and also completely different in ways I can't articulate except that she's her. She watches Liam when he's in the room. She watches him specifically, with a tracking that seems more intentional than the random tracking of a three-week-old. He talks to her and she finds him. Already. Already they've found each other.

Made sourdough starter on Monday. Everyone is making sourdough starter. The pandemic has produced a national interest in fermented bread products. I'm not exempt. I named it after my grandmother. She would have found this entirely sensible.

Liam has been my sous chef all month —punching dough, stirring batter, proud of every single thing we make together —and after the sourdough starter got going, I wanted something we could actually eat the same day, something fragrant and a little celebratory, something that comes apart in soft, pillowy pieces you can just pull with your hands. This orange pull-apart bread felt exactly right: it smells like sunshine when it bakes, it’s forgiving enough for a distracted new mother to manage in stages, and Liam can tear off his own piece without anyone having to cut anything. Some days that’s the whole victory.

Orange Pull-Apart Bread

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 55 minutes (includes rise time) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

  • 3/4 cup warm whole milk (about 110°F)
  • 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (one standard packet)
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
  • 2 large eggs, room temperature
  • 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, divided
  • Zest of 2 large navel oranges
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • For the glaze: 1 cup powdered sugar
  • 2–3 tablespoons fresh orange juice
  • 1/2 teaspoon orange zest

Instructions

  1. Activate the yeast. Combine warm milk, yeast, and 1 tablespoon of the granulated sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer. Stir gently and let sit 5–10 minutes until foamy.
  2. Make the dough. Add the remaining sugar, flour, salt, eggs, 2 tablespoons of the softened butter, and vanilla to the yeast mixture. Mix with the dough hook on medium-low speed for 6–8 minutes until the dough is smooth, soft, and pulls away from the sides of the bowl. It will be slightly tacky but should not stick.
  3. First rise. Transfer dough to a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a clean kitchen towel, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until doubled in size.
  4. Prepare the orange filling. Stir together the remaining 2 tablespoons softened butter and the orange zest until combined into a fragrant, spreadable paste.
  5. Shape the bread. Punch down the risen dough and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll into a roughly 12×18-inch rectangle. Spread the orange-butter mixture evenly across the surface. Cut the dough into six equal strips lengthwise, then stack the strips on top of one another. Cut the stack into six equal sections crosswise. Place each section cut-side up into a greased 9×5-inch loaf pan, layering them side by side to fill the pan.
  6. Second rise. Cover the pan loosely and let rise again for 30–45 minutes until the dough is puffed and nearly reaches the rim of the pan. Preheat your oven to 350°F during the last 15 minutes of this rise.
  7. Bake. Bake for 28–32 minutes until the top is deep golden brown. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the last 10 minutes. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack.
  8. Glaze. Whisk together powdered sugar, orange juice, and zest until smooth and pourable. Drizzle over the warm loaf. Serve immediately—pull apart with your hands.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 47g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 140mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 213 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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