Italian Snack Bread — The Loaf That Holds a Kitchen Together

The lake was doing what the lake does this week: changing color hourly, sometimes by the minute, the way grief does. Iron gray at dawn. Steel blue by ten. Almost green by noon when the sun broke through. Pewter again by four. Black by six. I walked the lakefront with Sven on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and Saturday, and the lake was different every time, and the lake was the same every time, and both things are how it works. Jakob (Anna's middle, recently graduated) has a job. He hates the job. He is figuring it out. He called me Tuesday for advice. I told him: that is what your twenties are for. The first job is supposed to be unsatisfying. The first job teaches you what you do not want. He said, "Grandma, that is not super helpful." I said, "It is the truth. Helpful is not always the same as comforting." He laughed. He hung up. He kept the job for now. He will figure it out. Lena (Anna's youngest, college freshman) is in college now. She calls me sometimes. The calls are about boys, mostly. I listen. I do not give advice. I am eighteen-year-old's grandmother. My credibility on boys is suspect at best. I tell her the kinds of things a grandmother is supposed to tell her: be careful, be brave, trust your gut, do not date the one who reminds you of someone you do not like. She thinks I am wise. I am, in fact, just old. The two get confused sometimes in the right direction. I cooked Limpa bread this week. The Swedish rye with caraway and orange peel and molasses. Two rises, dark crust, the smell that defines a Saturday in February. Thursday: soup. Always soup. Gerald said, "You are the most reliable woman in Duluth." I said, "I am the most reliable woman in this kitchen." He said, "Same thing." I do not think that is the same thing. I think that is a kindness Gerald gives me because Gerald is kind. I take the kindness. I do not argue. I lit a candle in the kitchen for no particular reason. Maybe for Mamma. Maybe for Pappa. Maybe for Lars. Maybe for Paul. Maybe for all of them. The candle is a tall white tapered one, set in a brass holder Mamma had on her dining room table for forty years. I let it burn down. The dripping wax made a small white pool on the brass. I cleaned it off. I lit another one the next night. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. I have learned, slowly, that there is a kind of competence that comes only with age. Not wisdom, exactly — wisdom is a word too grand for what I mean. Competence. The competence of having watched many things go wrong and many things go right and having developed an internal database of which is which. The competence is, perhaps, the only thing that improves with age in a body that is otherwise declining. I will take the trade. It is enough.

The Limpa was for the soul of the week—Swedish and dark and mine by memory. But there was a second loaf, made on a quieter afternoon when the lake had gone pewter and I did not want to think, only move my hands. Italian snack bread: herbs, olive oil, a soft pull-apart crumb that Gerald called “very good” without being asked, which from Gerald is nearly a standing ovation. I make it when I want bread that requires presence but not grief. The kitchen asks something small of you. You give it. It gives back.

Italian Snack Bread

Prep Time: 20 min + 1 hr rise | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 1 hr 45 min | Servings: 10

Ingredients

• 2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (one standard packet)
• 1 cup warm water (about 110°F)
• 1 tsp granulated sugar
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
• 1 tsp fine salt
• 3 tbsp olive oil, divided
• 1 tsp dried oregano
• 1 tsp dried basil
• 1/2 tsp garlic powder
• 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
• 3 tbsp finely grated Parmesan cheese
• Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

1. Proof the yeast. Combine warm water and sugar in a large bowl. Sprinkle yeast over the top and let stand 5–8 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, your yeast is spent—start again with a fresh packet.
2. Mix the dough. Add 2 tbsp of the olive oil and the salt to the yeast mixture. Add flour one cup at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough forms. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead 6–8 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky but not sticky.
3. First rise. Shape dough into a ball and place in a lightly oiled bowl, turning to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm spot 45–60 minutes, until doubled in size.
4. Prepare the pan. Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush a 9x13-inch baking pan with the remaining 1 tbsp olive oil. Press the risen dough evenly into the pan, stretching it gently to the edges. Dimple the surface all over with your fingertips.
5. Season the top. Scatter oregano, basil, garlic powder, and red pepper flakes evenly over the surface. Sprinkle Parmesan over all, then finish with a pinch of flaky salt.
6. Rest and bake. Let the shaped dough rest uncovered 10 minutes while the oven finishes preheating. Bake 20–22 minutes until the top is golden and the edges pull slightly from the pan.
7. Cool and serve. Let cool in the pan 5 minutes before cutting into squares or tearing into pieces. Best eaten the day it is made, still faintly warm, with nothing alongside it at all.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 175 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 270mg