Now Picture That: I Love the Raisin

My sister-in-law is the very best sharer of fabulous recipes. She researches and tries and tweaks and then passes along the delicious to me. How lucky am I? Lucky. I'm often uncertain of how that lady gets all that she gets done with four little people under tow.

The last one she shared with me was a cinnamon raisin bread of only goodness and it is freaking delicious. Just follow that recipe to a tee and you'll want to eat the entire loaf. I don't have a bread machine so I did the normal bread making thing which is to knead the dough for about 8 minutes and then let it rise for about 45 minutes and then rolled it out and rolled it up and put in the pan to rise again to sufficient baking height. Bread dough is not scientific, it's more of a feeling so one can't give precise kneading and rising directions.

Then, I baked the loaf at 325 degrees for 20 minutes with a tinfoil tent over it to keep it from getting crispy on the outsides and then took the tent off to bake for about another 30-35 minutes.

Last night, Sister Pister and I had the kind of chat sisters have about nothing as I was on my way to and from the bank. She was all, "I'm just pulling a loaf of that raisin bread recipe from Sil out of the oven and I'm totally eating that, and only that, for supper." Then I was all yelling into the phone because I tend to yell, "I know!"

And I must say, this dough is oh so pretty. Like pretty pretty. The entire process is really rather beautiful. Nerd herd card punched for saying that sentiment aloud to real people instead of keeping it as an inside thought.

I made this particular loaf on Saturday afternoon because it's totally a weekend thing. It belongs with Saturday, Sunday, and a side of sun streaming through the windows.

That sun is a deceiving little bugger these days, flirting with spring but not actually delivering. I soaked up its warmth while kneading the bread on the counter, while knowing if I stepped outside I'd be slapped with freezing. At any rate, the sun warmed my back and caused me to move my rising place from the normal spot in front of the fire to right on the kitchen floor. Flirting with spring around here.

Every single time I manage bread dough actually rising, I do a little jig. It's jig-worthy.

Here's a secret about this bread, it's so simple. I'm often reminded how a simple process paired with only a few ingredients work together to be the tastiest.

Here's another secret, an even better one. After you get the mixing and kneading done, your hands will smell like coconut oil for the rest of the day. In my book, that's a very good thing.