Are you "Hungary"?

It's been a while since I cracked the pages of my "Bread Bible" and rifled through, and tonight my youngest daughter, Emily (Or Emma Solveigsdottir, in SCAdian terms...she's 9) perused the pages and noted some recipes which require overnight (or longer) soaking of the grains, which sounds like an excellent idea, but no good for dinner tonight.  Bookmarked for later, we perused further...

In the interest of time, we opted for a fun-sounding Hungarian bread called "Pusstabrot."  I know!  Appetizing name, eh?  We thought that alone made it worth the effort. ;)

If you like "pan anise", a Mexican bread with anise, I think you'd like this bread.  The recipe calls for a half teaspoon of fennel, toasted and ground, and added to the flour.  I've never toasted fennel seeds before so we slowly roasted them in a cast iron skillet over low heat until the seeds turned brown, then took them off the heat and ground them in the mortar and pestle.  Toasting the fennel gives it more of a "nutty" smell than one usually finds with that particular spice, without losing the distinctive flavour of the seeds.

Other than that, this is a very straight-forward white bread recipe, with all the usual "mix, knead, rise, shape, rise" goodness one finds in a basic yeast bread.  Once the bread has risen, you knead it a bit to work out the air bubbles and then shape it into loaves.  I'm fond of a basic, elongated loaf, on a flat baking sheet most of the time, and we went with that this time, as well.  I feel it provides a crustier finished product, and the crust is the best part of home-made bread!  Another hour-ish of rising, and the loaves are ready to finish off before sliding them into the oven.

A long slash down the length of each loaf adds definition and prevents the loaf from going all crazy and rising any which way it wants, and an egg wash comprised of egg white, a teaspoon of water, and a pinch of salt (the salt seems to help break down the proteins in the egg white) goes on top, then a sprinkling of fennel seeds to complete the loaf, and into the oven they go.

The hardest part of bread making is the patience each step requires.  I struggle with patience under any circumstances, but when I forget to start the bread in a timely fashion so it's done with ~plenty~ of time for me to complete dinner, as well, it's especially hard.  But, there's nothing more disappointing than cutting into a beautiful loaf, to find a semi-gooey mess inside.  So, we waited patiently for the loaves to bake, as the fragrance of the bread, and especially the fennel seeds filled the kitchen and teased us mercilessly!

Now, remember, we're a SCAdian family, so while the bread is rising, we're not just surfing FaceBook, or watching TV or something.  Emily and I are working on a couple of different projects.  I'm embroidering the sleeves for my new woolen kirtle before piecing them into the body, and Em's just practicing her stitching. 

Finally, that wonderful smell that says "Hey, I think the bread is done!" wafted from the kitchen, and we raced in to check on the loaves.  To our delight, they were nut-brown and shiny and delicious-smelling!

That fifteen minutes of waiting for the bread to "cool" so you can slice into it is excrutiating, and we sat in the kitchen and stared at the timer, Emily trying to convince me it would be ok to cheat, a little, me extolling the virtues of patience (right.. I'm SUCH a role model!)

The Hungarian bread was a *major* success.  The loaves are light, very light, and delicious.  The fennel is a delicate hint, not overpowering, and it's an excellent compliment to the curried chicken and sauted zucchini that made up our dinner tonight. I will definitely make this bread again!