Cinnamon and raisin jumble loaf

I may be making a huge mistake.

I have only three hours until I have a class to be at and I’m trying to squeeze in a bread recipe with two risings. This could be a mistake. It’s only an hour per rising, but considering the fact that it took me thirty minutes to get the first part done, I may have overestimated the amount of time I have to do this.

Ladies and gentleman, it’s week [whatever] of The Great Comma Bake Off!

Today’s recipe is “using up the rest of the milk from the last recipe” a.k.a. cinnamon and raising jumble loaf.

I got home from work and immediately started putting the dough together. I may have to quit my job to make this blog work, but then I wouldn’t have anyone to feed everything to. What a conundrum!

I tried simultaneously mixing together the dry ingredients and gently warming the milk and butter.

It kind of worked.

Also, I decided not to make the same mistake as last time and almost empty my cute little jar. For the 500 grams of bread flour, I decided to pull out the massive bag of bread flour. There’s no messing around this time.

I also decided to be lazy this time around and use the dough hook for the entire thing. Well, less lazy. More efficient. Except I really don’t know how efficient it is because all I could think was, I could do a better job myself.

It’s a war against me and the machine. Or against the machine and I. (I should really try to make an effort with grammar in this blog since my trade is editing.)

*cut to milk and butter*

Waiting for butter to melt and then waiting for the mixture to cool down enough to be lukewarm enough to not scramble an egg is a lot of waiting.

Also it looks kind of gross:

But I’m just doing what Paul and Mary tell me to do. They haven’t led me astray yet!

They’ve also helpfully explained to me how to test for lukewarmity: “your little finger should feel quite comfy dipped in the mixture.”

I like that they specify the little finger. Does it make a massive difference, Mary and Paul? I used my index finger, and made sure to wash it in between testings! (See last time for a story about that.)

I also had another struggle with my dough hook because the low speed wasn’t gathering the flour on the sides. Also, fun fact, I just typed out “lough speed” and had to delete it quickly so no one would know, except I just told you, so that’s not great for my editing reputation either. I just kind of liked how it looked and I enjoyed the logical jump from “dough” to “lough.”

What’s that? No one else is amused by this? Right. Shutting up now.

Here’s the enthralling photo of the dough being mixed:

Then I had to knead in the raisins to make the raisin dough. An important part of raisin dough, apparently, even though I would normally shun raisins because I often feel as though they’re masquerading as a chocolate chip only to massive disappoint anyone who tries to partake.

I also truly think that if I had more time, I would win in the battle vs. machine. The dough hook just doesn’t want to incorporate those raisins. A couple of times I had to stop the machine to mix in the raisins myself.

Second fun fact: I keep typing “raisings” instead of “raisins.”

Time to wait.

*one hour later*

So full disclosure: a full hour didn’t pass. It was more like 50 minutes, because there’s just no time! But it does kind of look like it doubled in size, doesn’t it?

Apparently letting the dough rest under clingfilm on the counter helps with rolling out the dough. I’m choosing to believe Mary and Paul because that’s kind of the whole point of this endeavour.

Also, note to self, buy more cinnamon because you have less than an eighth of a teaspoon after this recipe. Also also you may want to buy more “muscavado sugar” or as you call it “basic brown sugar” because that’s almost all gone too.

It would probably be better for me to write this down on a piece of paper rather than in a blog post that I’ll not be reading again any time soon.

Oh well!

I’m having a similar issue that I had last time whilst rolling out dough in that the dough is so elastic that it bounces back. I roll it out and then it rolls itself back in, which is just rude, really.

So in order to keep it in place long enough for me to brush some milk on it and add the filling, I’m letting the rolling pin double as a dough weight (similar to a paper weight).

Side note: why do people need paper weights? How windy are people’s offices?

I was about to start rolling “like a Swedish roll” when I thought I should snap a photo:

Aren’t you glad I did? Isn’t this photo the best? I need to paint my fingernails again. I’m thinking purple.

Dang this post is riveting when written in a rush.

So here’s the thing, Mary and Paul. I am okay at math. I used to be excellent but I think it’s like anything, if you don’t practice, you forget. Case in point: riding a bike. If you don’t practice, you move to Germany and realize you forgot how to ride a bike.

So when you say I need to cut 14 pieces, I get a little angry because how am I supposed to quickly cut 14 pieces out of this:

I cut it in half and out loud counted as I kept cutting it in half, and then I got to “16” and realized I forgot I was supposed to be cutting 14.

So we’re doing 16, Mary and Pauly.

Actually technically it’s 32 because you wanted me to cut them in half again:

And then you wanted me to layer it with the dough side down on the bottom layer:

And then you said to layer the rest of the pieces in a “higgledy-piggledy jumble” which is now my new favourite term.


I’m going to try to work that into random conversations at least once a day. I think this is a valid New Year’s resolution to make, even though we’re almost in February.

Wait, what? We’re almost in February!? How in the higgledy-piggledy is that possible?

Almost as higgledy-piggledy possible as using a plastic bag to let the dough rise again. I wasn’t sure of this last time because it felt weird using a garbage bag, albeit a clean garbage bag, on my baking, but alas I am choiceless so I shall do it again.

*not 60 minutes later*

I had to do not again because, as I mentioned earlier, there’s just no time!

It looks doubled enough, though, doesn’t it? I don’t know. I can’t remember because I forgot to take a pre-higgledy-piggledy-rise photo. Here we go, though. Let’s hope for the best!

*kind of 35 minutes later*

In order to check if this is done, Mary and Paul are telling me to pull it out by the strip of baking paper and tap the bottom to see if it sounds hollow.

First of all, this looks higgledy-piggledy gorgeous:

Second of all, I couldn’t even pull the baking paper out because the bread was squishing together so I have a feeling it’s not done yet.

*about 6 minutes later*

Okay for real, I can’t lift this out to check if it’s hollow. That seems like a bad sign. What if I overbake it? Better to overbake than underbake, you say? Yeah I guess so.

*2 minutes of tense waiting later*

Okay so I managed to lift it out of the tin without burning myself on the 350 degree sides, and then I tapped it and I think it sounds hollow but it was also really hot tapping the bottom of the bread and what if it’s not hollow and I serve my coworkers raw loaf dough?

Two more minutes.

*2 probably unnecessary minutes later*

I don’t know. I mean it looks pretty good:

And it’s higgledy-piggledy appearance is admirable from the side view as well:

But what if it’s raw? What if the thud that sounds like a hollow thud isn’t a hollow thud?

*1 super unnecessary minute later*

Okay, fine. I’m calling it.

I’m really cutting it close. Five minutes left before I have to leave.

I guess I have zero excuses now.

*2 hours and a bit later*

So I came home from my class and took an end slice, the butt. I usually hate the butt of the bread. It’s everyone’s least favourite part. But not this bread. Because this bread is literally made up of cinnamon rolls.

Plus it’s perfectly baked, if I do say so myself.

It’s a good thing I’m bringing this thing to work because I am way too tempted to just sit here and eat the entire thing in one sitting.

Enjoy, coworkers! I didn’t put germs into this one!

One Comment Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s