Massa Sovada
When I was growing up, my hometown of New Bedford was a mixture of people descended from the early English colonists, French Canadians (Québécois), Portuguese (primarily Azorean), Polish, Cape Verdean, and a smattering of Greek and Irish immigrants. My own ancestry covers the English, Irish, and French Canadian parts of the spectrum, and my wife brings Portuguese and Polish to the table, so my kids are pretty reflective of the local version of the melting pot. In my family, while there were some food traditions, only my French Canadian ancestors were recent enough to really influence what I cooked and ate as a youngun' (meaning tourtière, gorton/cretons, boudin, crêpes, and other treats.)
I did have the good fortune to grow up surrounded by Portuguese and Polish neighbors, though, and got to experience their foods as well. In particular, Mrs. Souza next door would often bake massa sovada, or sweet bread, and every Easter we were gifted with a large loaf, usually with hard-boiled eggs, shell and all, baked into it (a traditional Easter modification to the recipe.) It's actually available in other parts of the country, although you might know it as "Hawaiian Bread", since the Portuguese also had a strong presence in the Hawaiian islands and brought it there as well.
Sweet bread is still easy to find in the area, as there are still a lot of bakeries that specialize in Portuguese goods, but it's something I've always wanted to be able to make at home. Not having my own family recipe for it, and not having my very own (or even my wife's) vovó to consult on the matter, I've been working on it slowly, one Easter batch at a time, for many years, having started with people's family recipes submitted to local school and church cookbooks. This year, I think I've finally got it. (Admittedly, this would have gone faster had I made more than one batch a year.) At the very least, it's to a point where I feel comfortable sharing.
The bread is sweet, but not too sweet, with a moist crumb. It's always reminded me a bit of brioche, although perhaps a hair less rich. When it's as fresh as this was, just sliced with maybe a little butter is perfect, but it's great grilled in butter and transformed into French toast (a popular item on the menus of local breakfast joints.) I usually opt against including hard-boiled eggs in the loaf, since the heat from the oven tends to make them significantly overcooked. The recipe below tastes to me just like what I remember Mrs. Souza's sweet bread tasting like, and it passes muster with my all-Portuguese father-in-law, who took a big chunk home for himself.
Photography-wise, I wanted to go with darker lighting than I've been using of late, so this is my Nikon D7000 w/Nikkor 50mm ƒ/1.8 prime, 1/250s @ ƒ/6.7, ISO100. One SB-700 shot through a white umbrella camera right, 85mm zoom, 1/8 power; second SB-700 also shot through a white umbrella camera left, 85mm zoom, 1/20 power, for just a little fill. Color finishing in Adobe Camera RAW and Nik Viveza, although this is pretty close to straight out of camera.
If you want to get some idea of the evolution both of this recipe, and of my food photography, have a look at my shot of my Easter loaf from 6 years ago.
Ingredients
2 lb. all-purpose flour
10 oz. milk
8 oz. unsalted butter, softened
1 c. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1 pkg active dry yeast
1/4 c. lukewarm water (~100°F)
4 large eggs
1/2 tsp. ground mace
grated zest of 1 lemon (or 1/2 tsp. lemon extract)
grated zest of 1 orange (or 1/2 tsp. orange extract)
Directions
Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water and set aside to hydrate.
Scald the milk. Add 4 oz. of the butter, the sugar, and the salt, and stir until the butter has melted. Add the zest (or extract.)
Put the flour in the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the milk and water mixtures. Stir with the dough hook until a single mass forms, then increase the speed and "knead" for 5 minutes. Note that the dough will be very sticky and not pull away from the sides of the bowl cleanly; this is a pretty wet dough, intentionally. Add the remaining softened butter 1 tbl. at a time, letting each addition incorporate before adding the next one. Turn out onto a floured surface, shape into a ball, and put in a large well-oiled bowl. Cover with a bit of cling wrap and a towel, and allow to rise until doubled, 3-4 hours. When doubled, punch down, reshape, and let rise until doubled again (roughly 2 hours).
Oil two 8" cake pans (I use 3" high pans). Divide the dough into two equal-sized pieces, shape gently into balls, and place in the cake pans. Cover again, and let rise until the cake pans are filled. I do this overnight in a cool spot.
When the dough has risen to fill the pans, preheat your oven to 400°F. Brush the tops of the dough with a little melted butter, and place them in the oven, scattering some ice cubes on the bottom of the oven to add some steam. Bake at 400°F for 10 minutes, then tent each loaf lightly with foil, reduce the heat to 350°F, and continue baking 35-40 minutes until the loaves sound slightly hollow when rapped.
Cool 10 minutes in the pan, then remove from the pans and cool to room temperature on wire racks.
Massa Sovada
When I was growing up, my hometown of New Bedford was a mixture of people descended from the early English colonists, French Canadians (Québécois), Portuguese (primarily Azorean), Polish, Cape Verdean, and a smattering of Greek and Irish immigrants. My own ancestry covers the English, Irish, and French Canadian parts of the spectrum, and my wife brings Portuguese and Polish to the table, so my kids are pretty reflective of the local version of the melting pot. In my family, while there were some food traditions, only my French Canadian ancestors were recent enough to really influence what I cooked and ate as a youngun' (meaning tourtière, gorton/cretons, boudin, crêpes, and other treats.)
I did have the good fortune to grow up surrounded by Portuguese and Polish neighbors, though, and got to experience their foods as well. In particular, Mrs. Souza next door would often bake massa sovada, or sweet bread, and every Easter we were gifted with a large loaf, usually with hard-boiled eggs, shell and all, baked into it (a traditional Easter modification to the recipe.) It's actually available in other parts of the country, although you might know it as "Hawaiian Bread", since the Portuguese also had a strong presence in the Hawaiian islands and brought it there as well.
Sweet bread is still easy to find in the area, as there are still a lot of bakeries that specialize in Portuguese goods, but it's something I've always wanted to be able to make at home. Not having my own family recipe for it, and not having my very own (or even my wife's) vovó to consult on the matter, I've been working on it slowly, one Easter batch at a time, for many years, having started with people's family recipes submitted to local school and church cookbooks. This year, I think I've finally got it. (Admittedly, this would have gone faster had I made more than one batch a year.) At the very least, it's to a point where I feel comfortable sharing.
The bread is sweet, but not too sweet, with a moist crumb. It's always reminded me a bit of brioche, although perhaps a hair less rich. When it's as fresh as this was, just sliced with maybe a little butter is perfect, but it's great grilled in butter and transformed into French toast (a popular item on the menus of local breakfast joints.) I usually opt against including hard-boiled eggs in the loaf, since the heat from the oven tends to make them significantly overcooked. The recipe below tastes to me just like what I remember Mrs. Souza's sweet bread tasting like, and it passes muster with my all-Portuguese father-in-law, who took a big chunk home for himself.
Photography-wise, I wanted to go with darker lighting than I've been using of late, so this is my Nikon D7000 w/Nikkor 50mm ƒ/1.8 prime, 1/250s @ ƒ/6.7, ISO100. One SB-700 shot through a white umbrella camera right, 85mm zoom, 1/8 power; second SB-700 also shot through a white umbrella camera left, 85mm zoom, 1/20 power, for just a little fill. Color finishing in Adobe Camera RAW and Nik Viveza, although this is pretty close to straight out of camera.
If you want to get some idea of the evolution both of this recipe, and of my food photography, have a look at my shot of my Easter loaf from 6 years ago.
Ingredients
2 lb. all-purpose flour
10 oz. milk
8 oz. unsalted butter, softened
1 c. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1 pkg active dry yeast
1/4 c. lukewarm water (~100°F)
4 large eggs
1/2 tsp. ground mace
grated zest of 1 lemon (or 1/2 tsp. lemon extract)
grated zest of 1 orange (or 1/2 tsp. orange extract)
Directions
Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water and set aside to hydrate.
Scald the milk. Add 4 oz. of the butter, the sugar, and the salt, and stir until the butter has melted. Add the zest (or extract.)
Put the flour in the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the milk and water mixtures. Stir with the dough hook until a single mass forms, then increase the speed and "knead" for 5 minutes. Note that the dough will be very sticky and not pull away from the sides of the bowl cleanly; this is a pretty wet dough, intentionally. Add the remaining softened butter 1 tbl. at a time, letting each addition incorporate before adding the next one. Turn out onto a floured surface, shape into a ball, and put in a large well-oiled bowl. Cover with a bit of cling wrap and a towel, and allow to rise until doubled, 3-4 hours. When doubled, punch down, reshape, and let rise until doubled again (roughly 2 hours).
Oil two 8" cake pans (I use 3" high pans). Divide the dough into two equal-sized pieces, shape gently into balls, and place in the cake pans. Cover again, and let rise until the cake pans are filled. I do this overnight in a cool spot.
When the dough has risen to fill the pans, preheat your oven to 400°F. Brush the tops of the dough with a little melted butter, and place them in the oven, scattering some ice cubes on the bottom of the oven to add some steam. Bake at 400°F for 10 minutes, then tent each loaf lightly with foil, reduce the heat to 350°F, and continue baking 35-40 minutes until the loaves sound slightly hollow when rapped.
Cool 10 minutes in the pan, then remove from the pans and cool to room temperature on wire racks.