Russian Krendl Bread

Sunday prep was four hours and twenty-eight freezer meals, which is not my record but is honest work. The week was a winter week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.

The recipe of the week was breakfast burritos, which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. The vacuum sealer is the most important small appliance in this house and I will die on this hill. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan is 21, finishing his mission in the Philippines. We have a countdown calendar on the fridge — Olivia's idea, executed in her handwriting, which is mine. Olivia is 19, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 17, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 15, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 12, in high school, deeply involved in the drama program — the Larson kid most likely to make a career out of being looked at. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.

Grace would have been 10. I do not let myself imagine the alternate version. I keep her in the facts. I do not write about her every week. I do not avoid her either. She is in the kitchen the way the kitchen is in the kitchen — woven into the structure, not announcing herself, present. The photograph above the stove is the only one of her smiling, and it has watched me batch-prep more freezer meals than I can count, and I have stopped feeling strange about the parasocial relationship I have with a four-month-old who has been gone for years. She is my daughter. The photograph is what I have. I look. I keep cooking.

Brandon is asleep on the couch. The dishwasher is running. The kitchen is clean. That is what counts as victory in a long marriage.

The breakfast burritos went into twenty-eight labeled bags, and I still had flour on the counter and a husband on the couch and the particular satisfaction of a kitchen that has been used well. On weeks like this one — long, quiet, productive, threaded with the kind of conversation that only happens when someone hands you an onion and a knife — I want something on the counter in the morning that feels like it was made with intention rather than urgency. Russian Krendl Bread is that thing. It freezes beautifully, it makes the house smell like a decision was made in advance, and handing a slice to Noah before drama rehearsal or leaving one out for Lily on a Sunday morning is its own small system, the same philosophy as the burritos: tomorrow is coming, and you can be ready.

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 2 hr 55 min (includes rise time) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 packet (2 1/4 tsp) active dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water (110°F)
3/4 cup warm whole milk
1/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp salt
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1/2 cup dried fruit (raisins, cranberries, or cherries)
1/2 cup finely chopped walnuts or pecans
1 tsp ground cinnamon
2 tbsp brown sugar
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Instructions

Activate the yeast. Combine warm water, 1 tsp granulated sugar, and yeast in a small bowl. Stir and let sit 5–10 minutes until foamy.
Make the dough. In a large bowl or stand mixer fitted with the dough hook, combine warm milk, remaining granulated sugar, softened butter, eggs, vanilla, and salt. Add the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add flour one cup at a time, mixing until a soft, slightly tacky dough forms.
Knead and rise. Knead dough on a lightly floured surface for 8–10 minutes until smooth and elastic, or knead in a stand mixer for 6 minutes on medium. Place in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until doubled.
Make the filling. Stir together dried fruit, chopped nuts, cinnamon, and brown sugar in a small bowl. Set aside.
Shape the Krendl. Punch down the dough and roll it on a floured surface into a long rectangle, roughly 8 by 24 inches. Spread filling evenly over the surface, leaving a 1-inch border. Roll the dough tightly into a log from the long side, pinching the seam to seal. Gently stretch the log to about 30 inches, then shape it into a figure-eight on a parchment-lined baking sheet, tucking and pinching the ends underneath to secure.
Second rise. Cover loosely with a clean towel and let rise 30–45 minutes until puffy.
Bake. Preheat oven to 350°F. Brush the loaf with beaten egg wash. Bake 22–26 minutes until deep golden brown and a thermometer inserted in the center reads 190°F.
Cool and finish. Let cool on a wire rack at least 20 minutes before slicing. Dust with powdered sugar before serving if desired.
To freeze. Wrap the fully cooled loaf (or individual slices) tightly in plastic wrap, then in foil or a labeled freezer bag. Freeze up to 2 months. Thaw overnight at room temperature or warm individual slices in a 300°F oven for 8–10 minutes.

Nutrition (per serving)

Russian Krendl Bread — The Week’s Reward, Ready Before It’s Needed