Olive Onion Cheese Bread

The virus is in the United States. Cases in multiple states. The word "pandemic" is now official. The bakery's fifth anniversary is March 15, thirteen days away, and Sofia's block party is planned and permitted and DJ'd and taco-truck'd and Instagram'd and the only thing between the plan and the execution is thirteen days and a virus that is rewriting the rules of the world.

I am worried now. Not about the virus itself — I am forty-two and healthy and the news says it mostly affects the elderly and the immunocompromised — but about the bakery. The bakery requires customers. Customers require the willingness to leave their houses. If people stop leaving their houses, the bakery stops earning, and if the bakery stops earning, everything stops: salaries, rent, supplies, the Juírez fund, the children's chorus fee, the scholarship that Isabella won but that doesn't cover everything. The bakery is not just a bakery. It is the engine. If the engine stops, the whole vehicle stops, and the vehicle carries seven people and a dream.

Sofia has not acknowledged the virus in her planning. She has not acknowledged it because acknowledging it would mean adjusting the plan, and Sofia does not adjust plans — she executes them. But I can see the adjustment coming. The virus is the adjustment. The virus is the event that will teach Sofia — and me, and the bakery, and the world — that plans are written in pencil and reality writes in pen.

Luis Jr. called. He said: "Mom, they're talking about the virus here too." He is in the Middle East. The virus is in the Middle East. The virus is everywhere my people are: in El Paso, in the Middle East, in the air between them. I said: "Are you safe?" He said: "I'm in the Army. We're trained for everything." He paused. "Except this." The except-this is the truth. No one is trained for this. The Army is not trained for this. The bakery is not trained for this. I am not trained for this. Rosa did not leave a recipe for a pandemic. There is no recipe for a pandemic. There is only the flour and the hands and the stubbornness that has gotten me through everything else, and I will trust the stubbornness because the stubbornness is the only ingredient I have in unlimited supply.

I made pan de muerto. In March. Not because anyone is dead — well, everyone who was dead is still dead — but because the pan de muerto is the bread of the threshold, the bread you make when the world is changing and you don't know what the change will bring. The pan de muerto is the bread of not-knowing. And I am in the not-knowing, standing in the kitchen, hands in the flour, making bread for a world that is about to close its doors and forget how to eat together.

I could not make pan de muerto forever — eventually you run out of anise and orange zest and the particular grief that goes into shaping those bone-crossed rounds — but I could not stop making bread, either, because the bread was the only answer I had to a question nobody knew how to ask yet. This Olive Onion Cheese Bread is what came next: savory and stubborn, something Sofia might have set out at the block party that never happened, something Luis Jr. would have eaten three slices of standing at the kitchen counter. I made it because the bakery engine had to keep turning, even if only for an audience of one, and because Rosa always said that a kitchen that smells like bread is a kitchen that still believes in tomorrow.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 10 slices

Ingredients

2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
1 cup warm water (110°F)
1 teaspoon sugar
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
1/2 cup pitted green olives, roughly chopped
1/2 cup pitted black olives, roughly chopped
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

Activate the yeast. Combine warm water, sugar, and yeast in a small bowl. Stir gently and let sit 5–10 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, discard and start again with fresh yeast.
Cook the onions. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, 8–10 minutes until softened and lightly golden. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
Mix the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, salt, rosemary, and black pepper. Make a well in the center and pour in the yeast mixture and remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Stir until a shaggy dough forms.
Knead and fold in fillings. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead 6–8 minutes until smooth and elastic. Flatten the dough, scatter the cooked onions, all the olives, and 1 cup of the shredded cheese over the surface, then fold and knead another 2 minutes to distribute evenly throughout.
First rise. Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a lightly oiled bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
Shape and second rise. Punch down the dough and shape it into a round or oval loaf. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Cover loosely and let rise an additional 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 375°F.
Top and bake. Brush the loaf evenly with beaten egg wash. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup shredded cheese over the top. Bake 30–35 minutes, until deep golden brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom.
Cool before slicing. Transfer to a wire rack and cool at least 15 minutes before slicing. This keeps the crumb from becoming gummy and gives the cheese time to set.

Nutrition (per serving)

Olive Onion Cheese Bread — The Only Recipe I Had When the World Closed Its Doors