Mama Bossy's Easter Braided Loaf

Is there anything in the world more satisfying and comforting than baking bread? It's so basic. Of course I enjoy the sense of accomplishment I feel after cooking something with 50 steps or baking something incredibly fussy, but I love everything about making bread. For me, it's especially the moment when you're kneading the dough with your hands, and it's a little crumbly or shaggy, and then all of a sudden it isn't: it's stretchy and shiny and smooth. You've transformed it with your hands. And then the anticipation, the slight panic that maybe this time it won't rise, the relief when it inevitably doubles in size like it's supposed to. And the smell! The aroma of baking bread wafting through the apartment feels like home to me.

At the Bossy homestead it's mostly Papa Bossy who does the cooking these days, but in my childhood Mama Bossy was a baker extraordinaire. It was she who taught me how to make a braided loaf for Easter. I have such strong memories of baking this bread together. She taught me how to knead the dough, how to grease the bowl for the dough and cover it with a wet towel to help it rise, how to tap on the loaf to listen for the hollow sound that means it's done. I still make it just how she taught me.


Mama Bossy's Braided Loaf
Makes 1 big loaf or 2 small loaves

Ingredients:
1 packet dry yeast (MB used cake yeast, but I can never find it)
1/4 cup warm water
2/3 cup milk (we used whole milk when I was little—I use skim now and it works just fine)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, melted, plus extra for greasing the bowl and pan
4 eggs
4 1/2 cups flour, plus extra for flouring the board
sliced almonds

Directions:
Scald (bring almost to a boil) the milk on the stove. Take it off the heat and allow it to cool.

Dissolve the yeast in the warm water. Put the sugar, salt, and melted butter in a big bowl and pour the cooled milk over it. Add the yeast mixture, 2 eggs, and 2 egg yolks. Save at least 1 egg white for later—I always forget and end up on a grocery run to get more eggs. Add 2 1/2 cups of flour and beat thoroughly. I have successfully made this with a KitchenAid mixer, a hand mixer, and a wooden spoon, so you don't need any special tools. And 2 more cups of flour.

Turn out the dough onto a floured board and knead it until it comes together nicely. Form it into a large ball.

Grease a large bowl and put the dough in it, turning it over so it has butter on all sides. Cover the bowl with a wet dishtowel. Place in a warm place until it has doubled in size. You might as well walk away for a couple hours—it takes a while.

Grease a cookie sheet. Divide the dough into 6 parts (4 big, 2 small) for 1 loaf or 12 parts (8 big, 4 small) for 2 loaves. Roll out each part into a rope. Braid the 4 big pieces, and twist the 2 small pieces and lay them on top of the braid.

Mix an egg white with a little water to thin it and brush the top of the bread. This is what will give it a beautiful golden crust. Sprinkle sliced almonds on top. I like to press them in a little so they don't all fall off when they're baked. Let it rise again while you preheat the oven.

Bake the bread in a 350° oven for 45-50 minutes (a little less if you make 2 smaller loaves). Tap it—it will make a hollow sound when it's done. It's better to underbake it than to overbake it, so don't obsess too much about what sound it's making.

Saying goodbye (again)

I try to stay upbeat when CameraMan and I are saying goodbye, even though my instinct is to grab onto him and hug him with all my might so that he has only 2 options: stay here or take me with him. I ration out my "I'm going to miss yous" and my "Why don't you just stay heres" and my "Don't leaves" and instead focus on the "I've had such a great time with yous" and "This was the best weekends" and "Thanks for a fun times." This goodbye (the one that happened 30 minutes ago) should have been easier. I'm going home 1 week from today, and we'll be together for a solid 2 months. Still, I'm feeling weepy. At work. Good thing I have a no exceptions allowed "no crying at work" policy.

So, to focus on the positive: This was the best weekend. Perfect weather, delicious food, and romance. We brunched on the UWS with My Gay Husband. We petted iPads at the Apple Store. We saw Red on Broadway, which was amazing, and restrained ourselves from strangling the audience members around us (note to self: no more Sunday matinees EVER). We kissed on the Brooklyn Bridge. We had the best meal I've had in a very long time. We got upgraded to a hotel room with a luxurious king-sized bed and a gorgeous view over Broadway. We slept in, thanks to soundproof windows and blackout shades. We ate muffins in bed. We got hungry and grumpy and survived. We met a friend of CM's for lunch. We dodged hustlers in the Diamond District. We strolled through Central Park.

And then we said goodbye. But only for a week. So there's absolutely no reason to cry. None at all.

Who's crying? Not me.

Happy Easter weekend!

What do you all have planned for the weekend, lovely readers? Easter egg hunts? Special brunches? Massive consumption of chocolate? I'm so looking forward to the weekend, because CameraMan is coming to visit! Tonight I have a performance of Hamlet (#6, can you believe it?), tomorrow I have rehearsal, and then CM arrives tomorrow night! I think we're going to have pizza delivered and laze around gazing at each other. I might make a braided loaf, an Easter tradition I inherited from Mama Bossy.

Sunday we have a great day planned. I can't tell you all the details, because I'm surprising CM with some of them. I've been sharing about one detail a day the past few days, so that he'll be really excited to visit me. Brunch with My Gay Husband, tickets to see Red on Broadway, assorted outdoor activities, dinner, and a night in a swanky NYC hotel. It's our last hurrah before I head back to Houston and we get down to the very serious business of MOVING. To VIENNA.

A few links to tide you over until Monday:

CameraMan is such a rockstar. Everyone's talking about it.


My friend Melissa is massively talented, and she just launched her new website. Check it out. Be sure to listen to the duet with her partner Brian-you'll hear Scarlett the Amazing Baby joining in near the end.


Mama Bossy sent this me this hilarious video. How can you help smiling at that?


The Apple iPad (or iMaxi, as I like to refer to it) is coming out tomorrow, and I guess there's a lot of buzz about it. I don't get it. Is it just me?


But I did LOVE this week's episode of Modern Family about the iPad. That show is genius. You should be watching it.


And, in honor of Easter, a ridiculous picture of a bunny. And a kitten. Papa Bossy sent me an email with SEVENTEEN of these. I have chosen the best one.

Spring is in the air

Spring sprang for real today here in New York. I wore yellow to celebrate. And for once, I didn't have to spend the entire day in a windowless rehearsal room, only to emerge into the chilly air after the sun has gone down. No, today we got out of rehearsal early. 3 HOURS early. I brought my sandwich outside and ate it on the Plaza in the sunshine. And then I took a long walk through Central Park (along with every other person in the entire city), and sat on a park bench to read my Kindle. Just as evening fell and a chill settled into the air, I met The Fashionista for moules frites and Stellas on the Upper West Side in one of those restaurants that opens its entire front wall when the weather's nice. Simply put, it was a great day—even the obscene amount of time it took me to travel from 86th Street to my apartment couldn't get me down.

Two years ago today I went to the courthouse in downtown Houston to finalize my divorce. Then I wrote about it here. It's amazing for me to re-read that post and see that, even when it was all so fresh and painful, I already had a glimmer of hope. I already knew that I was going to be okay. And I was right. I am okay. I'm more than okay. I haven't cried today. In fact, I hardly ever cry anymore about my divorce, what might have been or what should have been. Which isn't to say that I don't regret it. I think I always will, on some level. But I have, for the most part, accepted that this is part of the story of my life. It's not the story I thought I would be telling, not by a long shot, but every good story needs conflict, right?

Today my story goes like this: I thought it would be a hard day for me, like it was last year. I expected to brood, or weep, or both. But then the sun came out, and instead of this being a day all about the end of my marriage, today became a day all about the beginning of Spring.

Back to the grind

My days of lazing in bed until noon, puttering around the apartment, reading for hours, watching movies, and generally being a SLUG are over for the moment. This morning I had to set an alarm, get up, shower, and actually go to work. I know, I know: it's a terribly rough life I'm leading.

We're back in Ophelia rehearsals, of course. This one has 4 days of rehearsal before her first performance, which seems like an incredible luxury of time after the last one. We started off with a musical work-through of her scenes and then a quick and dirty staging of everything she does in Act I. Her first couple rehearsals are mostly going to be about blocking: where she goes, when, and why. The rest of the cast (who have all been doing this for weeks) won't join her until later in the week, so for now it's up to me and the other AD to walk all the parts, with assorted music staff singing (sometimes 3 or 4 in unison).

This is a part of my job I just cannot do gracefully. It's awkward—do I mouth the words or not, how much "acting" should I attempt, is eye contact a help or a hindrance? I never know. You would think, after so many years of performing, that I would be a total pro at this, but I'm a mess. Also, after weeks of watching the staging from the audience's perspective, it's shockingly easy to get turned around when you're actually up there doing it yourself. I find myself mixing up stage left and right, concepts I'm pretty sure I nailed at age 7. Go figure.

Thankfully, I've had a good bit of practice on all the Ophelia scenes by now. My Hamlet/Ophelia love duet will bring tears to your eyes, and my Queen Gertrude is truly hair-raising.

It's too bad the role I'd really like to play isn't even in the opera. And no, I'm not referring to Fortinbras. I'm talking about Ophelia's sassy gay friend, of course:



P.S. This is the best your hair has ever looked.

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