If I didn’t know better I’d say my sister, our youngest, thinks highly of my baking chops. When she heard that I had been cranking up the old oven, she requested a recipe — for Spanish bread, of all things. If you don’t know what Spanish bread is, it’s a very popular bakery item in the Philippines, a soft roll laced with sweet margarine (let’s face it, the average Pinoy bakery doesn’t use butter).
We used to own a bakery so I know about these things (short of actual baking, that is). The work area was located right behind my bedroom at our old residence. Spoiled for choice, I never gave bread more than a cursory thought, or even consumed much of it. It wasn’t until I went to Manila for college that it dawned on me just how much of a comfort food bread was. I mean, pandesal (or Spanish bread) looked and tasted pretty much the same wherever you got it. It was the taste of home.
But that’s not Spanish bread! you're thinking. Of course it isn’t, dum-dum. I would recognize Spanish bread if it were a hundred yards away wearing a tutu, that’s how intimate we are. Not that I’m crazy about the stuff. Here they are:
I won’t play modest. The rolls were delicious (but then I used butter). Ma liked it. So did friends. My father, ever the contrarian, preferred the bread in the photo up top (the very top of this post), which I don’t know the name of. On a whim, I had halved the dough for the Spanish bread, kneaded some anise basil in with the other half, and braided it into the shape of a challah. What it tasted like was old-fashioned (if crusty) ensaimada with nary a hint of the basil. It was disappointing in that regard, but Pa pronounced it perfect for dipping in hot chocolate. There is no accounting for taste.
The recipe for Spanish bread can be found here.
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