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Grandma Russell's Bread -- The Morning After the Book Was Done

December came in with a six-degree Monday morning and an ice sheet on the driveway that I salted myself at 3:45 a.m. before leaving for a Des Moines run. The ice did not ask permission. It rarely does. I skidded three times between Grand Island and Lincoln in the first fifty miles and then the roads improved and I drove the rest of the way uneventfully and delivered my load on time and came home Tuesday night with my shoulders in knots and a gas station pecan log that Justin and I ate in the truck on the way in from the yard.

The email came Wednesday. "I think we're ready." From Sarah. Subject line: "Brenda — big news." I read it in my truck in the yard at Grand Island, having just clocked out for the week, and I read it three times and I called Dave on the yard phone (my cell was out of battery, a Brenda classic) and I said, "Dave. The book is done." He said, "What do you mean done?" I said, "She said we're ready. She's sending it to copy edit and design." He said, "Brenda. You wrote a book." I said, "I wrote a book." He said, "Get home. I'm making steak." I got home. He made steak. He also opened a bottle of wine we had gotten as an anniversary gift from Steve and Louise in 2015 that we had never opened. We drank it at the kitchen table. It was fine. It was the best wine I have ever had. It was not the wine.

The kids did not know until Thursday. Dave wanted to wait, wanted me to be the one to tell them, wanted a small moment in the kitchen. I told them at dinner. I said, "The book is done. It's going to be published." Amber said, "Mom." Tyler said, "Cool." Justin said, "You wrote a book?" (He has known I was writing a book; he has also been fourteen.) Josie said, "Will there be pictures?" I said, "Some." She said, "Are any of me?" I said, "Yes." She screamed. She has told every human in Grand Island about the book by now.

Cookbook at seventy-one thousand words (final), and out of my hands for the first time since March. I do not know what to do with the mornings. I do not have anything to write. I sat in the sunroom Friday with coffee and nothing on my lap and Dave said, "Enjoy it." I could not enjoy it. I went to the kitchen and made bread. Bread is a manuscript with yeast. I will always have bread.

Gayle called Saturday. She had heard from Josie. She said, "My daughter wrote a book." I said, "Yes, Ma." She said, "Your father would be proud." I said, "I know, Ma." She said, "I'm proud." She has never said that to me. She has said many things that meant it. She has never said the word. I wrote that down after I hung up. I am keeping it.

Friday morning, with the manuscript out of my hands and nothing on my lap and Dave telling me to enjoy it, I could not sit still — so I went to the kitchen and made bread. It felt like the right thing, the only thing. Dave had done his part Wednesday night with the steak and the 2015 anniversary wine we’d never opened; this was mine. Grandma Russell’s bread is the recipe I come back to when something big has happened and I need my hands to do something honest. If you’ve got a morning that deserves marking, this is the one to bake.

Grandma Russell’s Bread

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 2 hr 55 min (includes rise time) | Servings: 2 loaves (about 16 slices each)

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 standard packet)
  • 2 1/2 cups warm water (110–115°F), divided
  • 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, plus 1 teaspoon for proofing
  • 1 tablespoon fine salt
  • 2 tablespoons neutral oil (vegetable or canola), plus more for bowl
  • 6 1/2 to 7 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
  • Butter, for brushing tops (optional)

Instructions

  1. Proof the yeast. In a large bowl, combine 1/2 cup of the warm water with 1 teaspoon sugar. Sprinkle the yeast over the top and stir gently. Let stand 5–10 minutes until foamy and fragrant. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast may be old — start again with a fresh packet.
  2. Mix the dough. Add the remaining 2 cups warm water, 1 tablespoon sugar, salt, and oil to the yeast mixture. Stir to combine. Add flour one cup at a time, stirring after each addition, until a shaggy dough forms and pulls away from the sides of the bowl. You may not need all 7 cups.
  3. Knead. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead by hand for 8–10 minutes, adding flour a little at a time as needed, until the dough is smooth, elastic, and springs back when poked. It should feel soft but not sticky.
  4. First rise. Lightly oil a large clean bowl, place the dough inside, and turn to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel or plastic wrap. Set in a warm, draft-free spot and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
  5. Shape the loaves. Punch dough down gently. Divide in half. Shape each half into a smooth log and place into two greased 9x5-inch loaf pans, seam side down. Cover loosely and let rise again until the dough crowns about 1 inch above the rim of the pans, about 45 minutes to 1 hour.
  6. Preheat & bake. About 20 minutes before the second rise is complete, preheat oven to 375°F. Bake loaves for 28–32 minutes, until the tops are deep golden brown and the loaves sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Internal temperature should read 190–200°F.
  7. Cool. Remove loaves from pans immediately and transfer to a wire rack. Brush tops with butter if desired. Let cool at least 20 minutes before slicing — the crumb is still setting. (This is the hardest part.)

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 105 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 220mg

Brenda Novak
About the cook who shared this
Brenda Novak
Week 298 of Brenda’s 30-year story · Grand Island, Nebraska
Brenda is a forty-eight-year-old long-haul trucker and mom of two from Grand Island, Nebraska, who cooks on the road with a crockpot plugged into her semi's cigarette lighter. She lost her sister to domestic violence and carries that loss quietly. She writes for the working moms who are gone a lot and feel guilty about it. The food you leave in the fridge for your kids when you are on a haul? That is love, packed in Tupperware.

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