A Baked Bundle of Joy
Welcome to the “Twelve Cakes of Christmas,” written by Michelle Rizzolo of Big Sur Bakery with original illustrations from Wendy MacNaughton.
I’ve been baking professionally since I was a teenager. I’ve mixed and rolled out countless cakes, pastries, and candies; sculpted melted chocolate into art; pulled sugar into ornate coiled ribbons; stacked wedding cakes taller than I am; scooped a mountain’s worth of cookie dough; shaped loaves of bread by the millions; grown my own sourdough starter, and vanquished a beast of a wood-fired oven. And although not a year has passed without my making stollen, I have remained bewitched by Germany’s answer to fruitcake.
In fact, no baking memory stands out in such vivid detail as the one in which, already exhausted from clocking hours of overtime, I assisted in making 120 stollen to be left in hotel guest rooms on Christmas Eve. Fresh from culinary school, I had taken a job as the lowest-ranking cook at the Beverly Hills Four Seasons. Though I wasn’t entirely sure what stollen was, I wanted the opportunity to work side by side with the resident pastry chef Donald Wressel and understand what inspired the excited look in his eyes as he described the loaves’ complex preparation.
Soon, I would learn stollen is a cake and bread hybrid whose production is at every step laborious and difficult. I would smell raisins that had been soaking in rum since November. I would discover Chef Wressel had collected vanilla beans to perfume his sugar using a process that takes months. There would be butter to clarify, almond paste to roll, and fruit to candy. My curious young mind fixated on each intricacy of this massive project.
During the holidays, only those with seniority were given time off, and I was missing my family terribly. Huge parties at home centered on my grandparents’ traditional Sicilian cardoon soup, rum cake, and Italian cookies. My grandmother insisted that everyone celebrate together, and as she got older she made her daughters promise to keep that tradition alive. On the morning I was supposed to start the stollen, my mother called with news that Grandma Rizzolo had passed away. Heartbroken, I thought of calling in sick, but it was too late; I’d already committed. I ventured silently into the bakeshop where Donald put me straight to work gathering ingredients, and I became immersed.
It commences with the candying of citrus—kumquats, orange rind, and Buddha’s hand, preferably. The zest simmers slowly in a sugar syrup that must be completely absorbed into the rind, turning it translucent. Executed correctly, this candied citrus will last indefinitely. Then there is the rest of the fruit: currants, golden raisins, and dried cherries must be soaked in rum for months before they’re sufficiently drunk and plump.
Mixing begins with the vanilla-perfumed butter and freshly ground nutmeg, cinnamon, and allspice. Once these ingredients are creamed together with the tiniest amount of sugar and a couple of egg yolks, and some flour is added, a shortbread-like base is created. Next, a bit of yeast and a pre-fermented dough are thrown in, along with extracts of vanilla and almond. During a second mixing, the machine’s paddle is exchanged for a dough hook to work the crumbly mass at a very high speed. This leaves you with a very smooth, shiny, and stretchy dough that can hold together without being torn by the pounds of rummed raisins and candied fruit soon to be folded in.
Once it attains this optimal appearance and texture, the dough is rolled out thin and the raisins and citrus are worked in through more rolling, followed by folding. The bundle is then left to ferment. But there’s no rest for the chef during this time. Butter for dipping the breads must be clarified by simmering and skimming until all its milk solids are removed, which ensures the butter will not turn rancid. Marzipan must be rolled into dowels the length of the bread. After fermentation, the dough is shaped into an oval, rolled thin in the center—where it’s stuffed with one of those dowel-shaped pieces of almond paste—and folded and creased to create its unique three-ribbed form; the shape is supposed to represent Baby Jesus swaddled in a blanket. The bread is then proofed, baked, and upon being removed from the oven, immediately bathed in the clarified butter, tossed in sugar, and covered in a thick layer of powdered sugar.
The sugar, candied fruit, inebriated raisins, and clarified butter preserve the bread’s interior by acting as a natural seal. The loaf will only improve with age as its flavors intermingle and build on each other.
A calm came over me that first day of making stollen, those hours spent cutting, shaping, and rolling, side by side with my mentor in monk-like silence. The repetitive actions and comforting fragrances pulled me out of my grief and gave me a sense of purpose; they quietly confirmed that every step done correctly would lead to a beautiful bread to be gift-wrapped and delivered to our unsuspecting guests. As we finished cleaning the bakeshop, I told my boss about my grandmother’s passing. He chided me for coming to work, but I assured him that focusing on this project was the only conceivable way I could have mourned. I still remember every moment.
I’ve missed family Christmas practically every year since. Some say my passion for improving my recipe borders on obsession; I continue to add new candied fruits, grind all my own spices, and relentlessly re-tweak the process. I extend my already overbooked days, always believing that these loaves deserve it. Every holiday season, stollen is my gift to my friends and the patrons of Big Sur Bakery.
While I wonder if my grandmother would be disappointed, it’s in this fanatical holiday baking ritual that I offer a slightly strange homage to a tiny Sicilian woman who wouldn’t know a stollen from a stromboli.
Dresden Stollen
(From The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook: A Year in the Life of a Restaurant, William Morrow An Imprint of Harper Collins Publishers, 2009)
For the sponge:
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons lukewarm milk
1 tablespoon instant yeast
1 cup bread flour
For the stollen:
1 1/4 cup unsalted butter plus extra for coating the bowl
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon ground clove
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
2 teaspoon ground cinnamom
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 vanilla bean
2 egg yolks
2 teaspoons almond extract
1/2 cup raw unbalanced almonds
1 1/4 cups candied fruits or candied zest (preferably homemade)
2 cups currants, golden raisins or raisins (soaked in 3 cups of dark rum overnight or longer)
3 cups bread flour
24 one-inch cubes quince paste
For the almond paste center:
10 ounces almond paste
For finishing:
1 cup melted butter
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
Start with the sponge. In the electric mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment combine the milk, 1 cup of flour and yeast until a dough is formed, about 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer to a buttered bowl big enough for the sponge to double in size. Cover with plastic film, place in a warm part of the kitchen and let it rise until it doubles in size, 30 to 60 minutes.
Meanwhile, cream the butter, spices, sugar and salt until light and fluffy. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise with a pairing knife, scrape out the pulp with the back of the pairing knife, and put the pulp to the butter mixture. Add the yolks and almond extract and mix to combine.
Drain the currants and reserve the rum. Drain the candied fruit from the candied syrup. Scatter the almonds on a cookie sheet and toast until very light brown, about 10 minutes. Cool completely and rough chop. Toss together the currants, candied fruit and toasted almonds and reserve until ready to use.
In the electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the sponge and the remaining flour with the butter mixture. Mix on medium until the dough is shiny and pulls away from the sides of the bowl, this could take anywhere from 15 to 20 minutes.
Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface. Press it to flatten and then roll into a 1/2-inch thick rectangle. Add 2/3 of the currant-nut mixture and fold the dough over it. Add more of the currant mixture and roll into a ball, keeping a smooth skin of dough over the top that contains the currant-nut mixture inside the dough. Place the dough in a buttered bowl large enough to let it double in size and cover it with plastic film. Let it rise until double in a warm part of the kitchen, about 1to 1 1/2 hours.
Transfer the dough to a floured surface and cut into 4 pieces. Shape each piece into a football, keeping the smooth skin on top and tucking in the fruit underneath. Let the breads rest for 7 minutes covered with plastic film. Working with a piece of dough at a time, flip it over on your work surface. Punch it to get rid of any air bubbles and tuck the dough over and in to form a tight football shape. Repeat with the other 3 pieces of dough. Let them rest on the table covered with a plastic bag for 15 minutes.
While they’re resting, cut the almond paste into four pieces and roll them into 4 logs, about 6 inches long.
Preheat the oven to 375°F. Adjust the oven rack to the middle position.
Take your first loaf and flip it on a floured surface. Roll the center of the loaf until it’s 1/2-inch thick with a rolling pin to create a cradle about 4 inches wide while keeping the edges thick. Place the log in the center and fold the top half over. Press with the side of your hand to create a crease between the log and the 2 thick pieces of dough. Put the shaped loaves on 2 sheet pans lined with parchment paper, apart from each other so they can rise until doubled in size. Place the trays in plastic garbage bags and place in a warm part of the kitchen for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until the dough is spongy to the touch.
Bake the stollen for 35 to 45 minutes until deep golden brown. Remove from the oven and let cool for 15 minutes. Once the bread is cool enough to handle it, brush it generously with the reserved rum and melted butter. Sprinkle with the sugar and dust heavily with powdered sugar. Eat right away or stored wrap in plastic film.
