The Winter Lodge. Сьюзен Виггс

      In loving memory of my grandparents, Anna and Nicholas Klist.

      ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

      The author wishes to thank the Port Orchard Brain Trust: Kate Breslin, Lois Dyer, Rose Marie Harris, P. J.

      Jough-Haan, Susan Plunkett, Sheila Rabe and Krysteen Seelen. Also thanks to the Bainbridge Island Test Kitchen: Anjali Banerjee, Sheila Rabe, Suzanne Selfors and Elsa Watson. As always, thanks to Meg Ruley and Annelise Robey of the Jane Rotrosen Agency, and to Margaret O’Neill Marbury of MIRA Books.

      Special thanks to Joan Vassiliadis, Anna Osinski of Warsaw, Poland, Matt Haney, Bainbridge Island Chief of Police, and to Ellen and Mike Loudon of Bainbridge Bakers on Bainbridge Island, Washington.

      Kolaches for Beginners

      It’s funny how so many bakers are intimidated by yeast. They see it listed as an ingredient in a recipe, and quickly flip the page. There’s no need to fear this version.

      This particular dough is quite forgiving. It’s elastic, resilient and will make you feel like a pro. As my grandmother, Helen Majesky, used to say, “In baking, as in life, you know more than you think you know.”

      Basic Kolaches

      1 tablespoon sugar

      2 packets active dry yeast (which is kind of a pain, since yeast is sold in packages of three)

      1/2 cup warm water

      2 cups milk

      6 tablespoons pure unsalted butter

      2 teaspoons salt

      2 egg yolks, lightly beaten

      1/2 cup sugar

      6-1/4 cups flour

      1-1/2 sticks melted butter

      Put yeast in a measuring cup and sprinkle 1 tablespoon sugar over it. Add warm water. How warm? Most cookbooks say 105°-115°F. Experienced cooks can tell by sprinkling a few drops on the inside of the wrist. Beginners should use a thermometer. Too hot, and it’ll kill the active ingredients.

      Warm the milk in a small saucepan; add butter and stir until melted. Cool to lukewarm and pour into a big mixing bowl. Add salt and sugar, then pour in beaten egg yolks in a thin stream, whisking briskly to keep eggs from curdling. Then whisk in yeast mixture.

      Roll up your sleeves and add flour a cup at a time. When the dough gets too heavy to stir, mix with your hands. You want the dough to be glossy and sticky. Keep adding flour and knead until the dough acquires a sheen. Put dough ball in an oiled mixing bowl, turning it to coat. Cover with a damp tea towel and set in a warm place where the air is very still. In about an hour, the dough should double in size. My grandmother used to push two floured fingertips into the top of the soft mound, and if the dimples made by her fingers remained, she would declare the dough risen. And then, of course, you give it a punch to deflate it. A soft sighing sound, fragrant with yeast, indicates the dough’s surrender.

      Pinch off egg-size portions and work these into balls. Place on oiled baking sheets, several inches apart. Let them rise again for 15 minutes and then use your thumb to make a deep dimple in each ball for the fruit filling. The exact filling to use is a source of endless debate among Polish bakers. My grandmother never entered into such a debate. “Do what tastes good” was her motto. A spoonful of raspberry jam, peach pie filling, fig preserves, prune filling or sweet cheese will do.

      Create a popsika by mixing 1/2 cup melted butter with a cup of sugar, 1/2 cup flour and a teaspoon cinnamon. Sprinkle the popsika over each kolache. Now place the pans in a warm place—like above the fridge—and allow to double in bulk again, about 45 minutes to an hour. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375°F. Bake 20-40 minutes, until golden brown. Pay particular attention to the bottoms, which tend to burn if too close to the heat source.

      Take the kolaches out of the oven, brush with melted butter and remove from pans to cool. This recipe makes about three dozen.

      My grandmother used to tell me not to worry about how long this whole process takes. Baking is an act of love, and who cares how long love takes?

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