On the subject of the Down East breakfast, Maine poet and professor Robert P. T. Coffin wrote in 1949 that “weather,
mother of good poetry, is also mother of good breakfasts.” The bitter cold necessitated the bulletproof morning meals that helped farmers and fishermen sustain themselves through the day so that they never “blew away.” It was a six- or seven-part spread, overwhelmed by chunks of salt pork and sandwiched by red-hot, scalding tea—“the whisky of the north”—that put “whiskers on the soles of your feet.” A proper breakfast must, he repeated, “stay put and generate heat. It must have rich, fattened, and
oiled doughnuts to it, heavy pies, and pancakes, to keep the stomach
busy, to keep the blood away from a man’s brain, where it can only do
mischief, to keep his blood in his arms and thighs where a good
woodchopper’s or smelt-fisherman’s blood belongs...The Maine breakfast
is a hefty meal for hefty he-men.”*
Pronoun troubles aside, Coffin was right: big, rib-sticking breakfasts are a staple up here. Even at dawn, everything tastes better with links of maple sausage on the side, and a hunk of toast with butter-fried eggs is never far behind. We don't wrap our breakfasts in seven flapjacks, eat sinewy, jellied hog’s-head cheese, or chase the meal with five quarters of sweet pie, as Coffin contends that strong Maine farmers do, but we do cook up great big pans of hash browns, drink steins of bitter black coffee, and fry handfuls of “fattened” doughnuts rather often. The weather is responsible? Then so be it. Whether you're Down East or not, don’t miss out on either this jam or these doughnuts. The jam, now one of my favorites ever made or eaten—what genius first put ginger with rhubarb anyway!?—is a cheery complement to these ludicrously buttery but barely sweetened brioche doughnuts. I shook them in cinnamon and sugar to add an extra element of warmth, but plain old-fashioned or a dusting of cardamom wouldn’t be at all out of place. We ended up having them with sausage, granola, and yogurt, so not quite Coffin’s lumberjack and lobsterman prescription, but certainly a mighty-fine and rightly affirming way to start the day.   And a quick note to thank everyone for the kind feedback on last week’s baby goat midwife post! I've sneaked in a few photos of them enjoying their own Down East breakfast below. Brioche Doughnuts
Adapted from Karen DeMasco, The Craft of Baking
This
is the most buttery doughnut dough I've ever used, and it has a super
excellent flavor. To make the frying process as smooth as can be, have
your cooking station set up before you fry: timer, paper towels,
cinnamon-sugar bowl, and serving tray.
2 1/2 cups high-gluten bread flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon Kosher salt (I used Diamond; use less if using Morton)
2 1/4 teaspoons (1/4 ounce or 1 packet) active dry yeast
6 large eggs
3 sticks (12 ounces) unsalted butter, chilled and cut into one-inch pieces
Peanut oil for frying
1/2 cup granulated sugar + 1 teaspoon cinnamon + pinch salt for tossing, optional
1. Sift flour, sugar, and salt into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment. Mix a few times to blend.
2.
Set a saucepan of water to boil on the stove. In a heat-proof bowl,
whisk the six eggs with the yeast, and place over the boiling water,
whisking continuously for about a minute, or until the eggs are just
warm to the touch. Add the egg-yeast mixture to the flour bowl, and mix
on medium for about four minutes, until the mixture starts to resemble
more of a dough.
3.
With the mixer still running, add the pieces of butter quickly, but one
at a time, then allow machine to run until no visible pieces of butter
remain. (This took our old-ish mixer about eight minutes.) Turn dough
out onto a lightly floured counter, and knead for about five minutes,
until dough is tighter. A word of caution that the dough will be very
sticky and loose. Try to resist the temptation to add more flour.
4.
Place dough in a clean, well-oiled bowl, cover with plastic or a damp
dishtowel and allow to rise for two hours. Fold the dough over itself,
cover again, and allow to rise in the fridge at least six hours or
overnight.
5.
The next morning, toss dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and
roll into a rectangle about three-fourths of an inch thick. Using a
three-inch round and one-inch center, cut doughnuts out of the dough;
cut holes out of remaining dough, and do not reroll scraps. Place cut
doughnuts on cookie sheet or cutting board lined with parchment, cover,
and allow to puff up over the next 30 minutes.
6.
In a wide, shallow pan, heat peanut oil to 350 degrees F; do your best
to maintain this oil temperature throughout. Cook one test doughnut
about 1.5 minutes per side, then drain on paper towels. Cut it open to
ensure the center is cooked, and adjust your fry time accordingly; it
works well to fry three at a time. Doughnut holes take about a minute to
cook through; it worked fine to fry five or six at a time. Blot the
doughnuts and toss in the cinnamon-sugar mixture while they're still
warm. Serve with a few spoonfuls of rhubarb-ginger jam. Doughnuts are
best the morning they’re made!
Rhubarb + Ginger Jam
Makes about a pint
Good on toast, great in yogurt, mighty-fine served alongside a doughnut. What's not to love?!
1 pound rhubarb stalks (pink if you got ‘em)
1 to 1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
2-inch knob of ginger, peeled and grated (about two heaping tablespoons)
Zest and juice of half a lemon
1.
Trim the rhubarb and chop it into one-inch pieces. In a medium bowl,
toss rhubarb with the lesser amount of sugar, grated ginger, and lemon
juice and zest. Let sit for at least two hours, stirring two or three
times, until rhubarb has let off its juices; you can also cover and let
the rhubarb do its thing in the fridge overnight. Ultimately, the
mixture should get really juicy.
2.
Pour the rhubarb mixture and juices into a medium saucepan. Bring to
boil to and stir to dissolve the sugar, then allow to rapid-boil for
about 15 minutes; the stalks will completely break down and the mixture
will thicken up quite a bit. Keep an eye on it though so as not to burn.
Taste, and if you prefer a slightly sweeter jam, add the remaining
quarter-cup sugar and stir to dissolve. Remove jam from heat and allow
to cool—it will thicken as it does—or fill sterilized jars and process
accordingly. We just filled one big ol’ jar and are keeping it in the
fridge instead of storing.
*Robert P. Coffin, "Down East Breakfast," in Endless Feasts, ed. Ruth Reichl (New York: Condé Nast Publications Inc., 2002), 123–129. |
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