Kitchen Project #167: St. Clement's Easter Bread
A journey into the world of enriched Easter dough
Hello,
Welcome to today’s edition of Kitchen Projects. Thank you so much for being here.
Today, we are going on a search for an Easter bread. We’ll be taking inspiration from the classic breads from around the world - hot cross buns, of course, are included! - and investigating what makes a tradition a tradition. In the end, I’m very happy to share this beautiful St Clements Easter Bread, as well as my very special St Clement’s Tart with you, perfect for any incoming get-togethers.
On KP+, I’ve another festive bread for you. Gorgeous green Twisty wild garlic loops - soft milk bread twisted with bright green wild garlic butter. I’ve also shared the recipe for a green wild garlic loaf which really puts the Spring in Spring. Click here for the recipes
What’s KP+? Well, it’s the level-up version of this newsletter. By joining KP+, you will support the writing and research that goes into the newsletter (including the commissioning - and fair payment - of all the writers), join a growing community, access extra content (inc. the entire archive) and more. Subscribing is easy and only costs £6 per month or £50 for the whole year. Why not give it a go? Come and join the gang!
Love,
Nicola
Hot Cross Bacon Buns are back!
Le Swine, purveyors of Britain’s best bacon butty, are back with our collaborative Hot Cross Bacon Bun kit this year! The bun is made with my recipe (available here on KP+ only - it really is the best), and each kit contains everything you need to make the dreamiest breakfast:
You’ll get 2 x HUGE hot cross buns, Le Swine’s signature bacon butter, a special date & fennel ketchup and 4x slices of the most fabulous middle bacon. It’s such a treat when everything arrives at your door ready to go. Click here to order in time for Easter! The cut-off for delivery is Monday at midnight. I’ve also shared a discount code over on KP+, so check out the details there now.
Oh… and this year, James from Le Swine is also running an amazing competition where one box will have a ‘holey’ hot cross bun, and if you get it, you get a bunch of goodies! Details here.
An Easter Bread Hunt
I am a staunch hot cross bun lover, but even I have to admit there’s a whole world of easter breads out there that I’ve been ignoring. I have, of course, no intention of divorcing my beloved HXB, but perhaps it is time to expand my horizons - I need to see the proverbial wood for the trees. Even a brief peek into other countries is an embarrassment of riches: cuzzupe in Calabria, colomba di pasqua in Italy, kozunak in Bulgaria, pască in Romania and tsoureki in Greece to name just a few. Each is their own bejewelled delight - some braided, some adorned with eggs, others moulded like crowns.
So, how did these breads come to pass? I’ve been curious about how traditions become… well, traditions. How many years does one have to repeat the same dish, action or celebration for it to be woven into culture? When does a seed take root and become part of our calendar? I wonder, too, whether it is even possible to realise you are creating a tradition at all.
This week, I decided to challenge myself to develop an Easter bread inspired by the resplendent loaves around the world. As Confucius once said, "To define the future, one must study the past." So, shall we dive in?
On KP+ today
Over on KP+, you’ll be greeted by a very springy bread, indeed: Wild Garlic (aka ramps) loops. They have an air of village fete around them and feel gorgeously Easterish. I’ll also show you how to make a kermit green dough, too. If you don’t have wild garlic then I’ve shared versions that you can use with herbs and garlic cloves for a more classic garlic butter bread.
It’s also worth mentioning that you can find my classic Hot Cross Bun recipe on KP+ I’m so proud to say that I remake my recipe every year (fourth year running!) and I still think it’s the best I’ve ever had. See for yourself! Click here for the recipe.
A very short and inconclusive history of Easter Breads
Millions of people around the world celebrate Easter. Considered the most important festival on the Christian calendar, it brings rich culinary traditions. Even if you don’t observe it, it is (at least here in the UK) unavoidable; School holidays are built around it, and Easter eggs (in all their foil wrapped secularity!) are both irresistible and everywhere - an impossible combo. The modern Easter table is adorned with multicoloured paraphernalia, from Easter nest cakes to Lindt rabbits. But, back in the day, the Easter table looked very different.
Before the pastels, moulded chocolate and plastic chicks, Easter was a deeply religious time. It marks the end of Lent, a 40-day period of fasting and show of restraint that needed to be rewarded with something fitting. Across Europe, this culminated in a variety of Easter and celebration breads. Each has its own shape, spice, and symbolism, from the cross-marked hot cross buns of England to the saffron-scented, intricately woven egg-studded coccoi of Sardinia to the mastic and mahlepi-infused braided tsoureki of Greece. These were created to be as delicious as they were meaningful, meant to be shared and to be an edible pat on the back for the pious weeks before. After all, what better metaphor for resurrection is there than bread rising to life?
Even in times of scarcity, religious festivals bring an abundant food mindset (I can’t imagine the 18th century UK being particularly plentiful for most of the country and yet the rhyme of ‘one a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns’ was first written into culture in the 1773 ‘Poor Robin’s Almanac’) and reason to use all the - for lack of a better description - ‘fancy stuff’. As hard as it is to believe now, spices and dried fruits were a big deal back then - nutmeg would set you back the equivalent of hundreds of pounds, and dried fruits, let alone candied ones!, were rare. Only the most precious ingredients were used.
The shapes matter too - across the world, Easter breads come in all shapes and sizes, but each with specific symbolism. Braided loaves, like Greek tsoureki or Bulgarian kozunak, may have three strands to represent the Holy Trinity. Circular or crown-shaped breads symbolise eternity - the fresh cheese-filled Romanian pască has a braided edge and sometimes a cross through the centre - while the more intricate shaped breads, like Sardinian coccoi, are intricately shaped into very literal representations of spring, fertility and rebirth, from nests to baskets to dolls to babies.
So what are traditions?
British Historian Eric Hobsbawm, in his 1983 co-authored book The Invention of Tradition, proposes many traditions we consider "ancient" are actually quite modern, often invented or formalised in the 19th and 20th centuries to serve political or cultural purposes. The book focuses more on cultural traditions, for example, the British Royal Family (formalised in the Victorian times) and the Highland tradition of Scotland (Tartans distinguished by clans were a relatively modern invention spurred on by royal visits and the romanticisation of highland culture). The book doesn’t deal specifically with food. Still, it might be reasonable to extrapolate the overall message: Culinary traditions are just as shaped by social and commercial forces as they are by heritage.
Many festive foods that feel "timeless" may have been popularised relatively recently, often to signal rituals, or encourage national pride. Or, just to make a bunch of cash. For instance, the dove-shaped Colomba di Pasqua, an Easter rendition of Pannetone, was devised by Angelo Motto in 1930s Milan, yet it’s now considered an essential part of the Italian Easter table.
All of this to say is that we can start a tradition anytime. As long as it is delicious enough, just like the blossom trees, lambs and baby bunnies, it is sure to return year on year. Shall we give it a go?
The dough
Though much of Easter’s fancies are defined by the shape and look, the dough is crucial. It has to be delicious, strewn with celebratory bits and bobs, and stand-out without any of the fancy finishes. Without a doubt, it has to be an enriched dough and, since it's Easter, it may as well be Brioche. Brioche is a rich bread predominantly hydrated with eggs (see, fancy!) and bolstered with large quantities of butter. How much? Well, talking in bakers’ percentages, which is the proportion of an ingredient compared to the flour, a true brioche should be well above 30% in fat, usually in the 45% to 80% range, though recipes may go all the way to 100%.
The amount of fat greatly impacts the dough - fat inhibits gluten development, so the more you add, the weaker the dough becomes. This is why enriched breads like pannetone, which are full of fat and sugar but still tower tall, are feats of dough engineering.
One of my favourite ‘tricks’ for brioche or any enriched bread is to use a portion of oil alongside the butter. Butter brings that extraordinary flavour and richness, but oil adds... squish. While butter firms up as it cools - melting into the web of gluten and starch during the bake - oil retains pliability, helping keep the crumb extra soft.
So, for this loaf, I decided on about 50% fat to flour, using equal parts butter and olive oil. You could certainly use vegetable oil if you prefer, but I’ve come to love the grassiness and aroma of the olive oil.
The Mix-ins
It wouldn’t be Easter without piling a bunch of gorgeous mix-ins into the dough before baking. Many European breads include dried fruits like raisins or currants, while candied peel is also typical. Nuts, like almonds or walnuts, are sometimes invited to the party (on the Colomba di Pasqua, they are strewn on top), while spices are key to some breads - HXB rely on the heavy spicing. Citrus zest is a regular occurrence, too. Romanian pască bucks the trend with its sweet cheese filling. Let’s take a look at today’s recipe:
Citrus Zest: Spring may be the start of summer, but it is a sad goodbye to citrus. Of course, modern life means we’re never without our beloved lemons, oranges and limes, but I thought Easter might be the perfect time to honour these fruits and give them a proper send-off. A good grating of citrus zests adds much-needed fragrance to the dough.
Vanilla: A traditional Easter bread is supposed to be a show of all things fancy, right? Then I daren’t NOT include vanilla - real vanilla. (You can use an extract, don’t worry.)
Candied Peel: In Nature’s Candy, Camilla Wynne tells us that ‘Candied Fruit’s storied past behind with necessity’; In attempt to lengthen the lifespan of perishable fruit (without refrigeration! My nightmare), people in ancient times found that sugar - which keeps water occupied with its hygroscopic (water loving) nature - keeps bacteria at bay. Sugar was a luxury, so candied fruit became a treat for only the most wealthy (according to Wynne, it was known as “‘Epices de chambres’ or bedroom spices, as they were eaten by Royals in their chambers”. I’ve always thought the candied peel was the best part of the hot cross bun, so I’m thrilled to include it. You can follow my guide for making your own here.
Marzipan: I’ve recently become quite obsessed with Marzipan. Baked into doughs, it melts and enriches the bread with little sweet almondy pockets - the ones deepest in the bread remain chewy, while exposed bits become crispy. A wonderful surprise with each bite
Raisins: My first few attempts at this bread didn’t include raisins, but at the end of all the tests, I did rather miss them - it just didn’t feel like a proper Easter bread without them. If raisins aren’t your thing, just split the weight between more marzipan and candied peel instead.
The Shape
As the other Easter breads tell us, the covers of these edible books do actually matter. I am not an observant Christian, so I’m less inclined to go deeply symbolic (for example, the red eggs of tsoureki representing the blood of Christ and rebirth, or the crucifix crosses) out of respect. Of all the Easter breads, I am particularly enamoured with Bulgarian kozunak. My friend (who taught me how to make banitsa - recipe here) brought me a loaf last year, chocolate chip studded and braided, and I fell completely in love - soft, cottony, sweet and the perfect loaf, really.
On researching kozunak for this piece, I came across the beautiful “officers button” (офицерско копч in Bulgarian), a round braided shape, thanks to “Kulinaro Joana”, a treasure trove of a food website. Despite my years working in bakeries and around breads, I’ve not made many intricately shaped loaves, so I can tell you, this shape (though it looks beautiful and complex) is very achievable.
What’s in a name? / A variation
Though I was delighted with this loaf, I wondered if there was something even more special I could make with this dough. Sometimes, this funny thing happens in recipe development where the name comes before the recipe. Planted somewhere deeply in my psyche came the ‘St Clements Tart’, a festive bread to welcome in Spring and say ‘see you next time’ to the peak wintery citrus. In case you aren’t familiar, St. Clements refers to the traditional British rhyme:
“Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clements”, the opening line of a 17th century nursery rhyme where churches chime and talk to one another (On revisiting this song, it is actually very strange - it all starts very nice, with the aforementioned St Clements bringing up citrus, for it only to fall apart very quickly into an argument about debts and eventually public executions. Yikes). The fact that it sounds mildly religious seems to work for Easter, too!
Testing the St Clement’s Tart
Inspired by the Romanian pască, I envisioned a circular brioche tart with a braided edge, filled with a ‘St Clements’ orange and lemon curd. Perhaps it should have a marzipan-stuffed crust? Or, maybe mascarpone custard swirled with the curd? I tried a few versions:
Unlike the pască, which forms the dough with separate pieces, I tried a braiding technique which keeps the dough in one piece. It looks impressive and is very easy to achieve:
Of the tests, by far the most delicious was the version swirled with mascarpone and lemon curd. But I was missing the freshness. A few fresh slices and segments of orange were the ticket. However, now the swirl was covered and seemed pointless, though the curds were missing the necessary creaminess to balance the bread and juicy fruit. I went back to the drawing board and developed a simple custard that used egg, mascarpone, cream, and lemon juice for a creamy, subtly tangy base. Perfect.
You can either decorate the tart whole, or for neater slicing you can cut and then place a few segments on top like this… so satisfying:
So here I present you with my St Clement’s Tart. The bread alone is beautiful, but the tart certainly is befitting of an Easter dessert centrepiece. Both are loveable (though I do need to come up with a name - perhaps we call it the St Clements Easter Bread for now?), suitably festive and completely delicious.
Whether it becomes a tradition in my household, it is too early to say. I’ll certainly make this special bread and tart with my unwitting niece and nephew, telling them it is of great cultural value and importance to our family. I’ll let you know if it sticks.
St. Clement’s Easter Bread
This bread takes inspiration from easter loaves around the world, from Italian colomba di pasqua to Bulgarian kozunak. Entwined with marzipan, mixed peel and raisins, it is an aromatic delight that is befitting a Spring table.
Makes one large loaf
Ingredients
75g warm milk (about 40°C)
170g eggs (about 3)
Zest of 1 orange
Zest of 1 lemon
1 x vanilla pod, seeds scraped
325g bread flour
40g caster sugar
6g salt
6g yeast
100g butter, soft
60g olive oil
60g marzipan, cut into 0.5 -1cm cubes
60g mixed candied peel (my method here)
60g raisins (I use yellow), soaked in boiling water for at least 10 minutes and drained
Plus: Egg wash
Optional: Pearl sugar for topping
Method
To make the brioche dough, add the warm milk, eggs, zest and scraped vanilla to the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the dry ingredients next, placing the yeast on one side of the bowl and the salt on the other.
Using the dough hook, mix on medium speed for about 6–8 minutes or until medium gluten development is reached. This means the dough holds together when stretched but still feels slightly fragile. You can mix further, but this is the minimum needed before adding the fat.
With the mixer running, add the soft butter a teaspoon at a time, followed by the olive oil. Continue mixing at medium–high speed for another 10–12 minutes until the dough is very smooth and fully developed. You should be able to stretch a piece of it into a thin, almost translucent sheet.
If it hasn’t reached this stage yet, let the dough rest for 5 minutes, then continue mixing in 5-minute intervals until it’s ready.
Once fully developed, lower the mixer speed and add the soaked raisins, mixed peel, and marzipan. Mix for 1 minute, just until incorporated.
Remove the dough from the bowl and shape it into a smooth round using your hands or a bench scraper. Use the work surface to create surface tension and form a tight, even ball.
Place the dough into a lightly greased bowl, cover it, and let it rise for about 1 hour. It should noticeably puff and almost double in size—timing will vary depending on your environment. You can also proof the dough overnight in the fridge, which makes it easier to work with and shape.
Divide the dough into eight pieces, roughly 115g each, and roll each into a sausage about 40cm long.
Braid the loaf together like this, except use double strands rather than just one for extra visual appeal (see the GIF below).
Place onto a parchment-lined baking tray. You could also just form this into a loaf and bake it in a tin if that’s more your thing. Proof until very puffy - this will take about 45 minutes to 1 hour, or longer if you’re shaping the dough from cold. Once proofed, brush with egg wash and sprinkle with pearl sugar if using.
Preheat the oven to 200°C fan. Place loaf into the oven and reduce to 170c fan. Bake the loaf for 35-40 minutes, or until golden and the internal temperature reaches 88°C. If it starts browning too quickly, loosely cover it with foil halfway through. An overbaked loaf will still be delicious, but won’t be as soft and tender in the middle, so keep an eye on it.
Transfer to a wire rack and leave to cool. Enjoy warm or at room temperature. Store in an airtight container for up to three days.
St Clements Easter Tart
Inspired by the Romanian pască, this beautiful tart bids farewell to winter citrus as we head into Spring.
Makes 1 10-inch tart, serves 8-10
400g Brioche dough from above (just under ½ of the above. You can also make a smaller batch of brioche if you’re just making this tart), cold from the fridge
Lemony Mascarpone filling
125g mascarpone
125g double cream
1 egg, about 55g
40g lemon juice (from about one lemon, optional to grate zest in, too)
50g sugar
To finish
Egg Wash
Pearled sugar
2-3 oranges to decorate - can be blood oranges or plain, or any small orange like clementine works well, too
Method
First, work the dough into an approximate disc shape, then roll it on a floured work surface. Roll the dough into a circle approx 11-12 inches wide. Slide the disc onto a sheet of baking paper and re-roll it into a circle if it has warped. If any of the mix-ins are getting in your way, just relocate them and continue.
Using a bench scraper or knife, cut 2inch long slits around the edge of the dough, about ½ inch wide.
Braid the border as below - pull each ‘arm’ of dough horizontally across the next and tuck under the ‘arm’ that is two spaces along to create a rope like braid. It’s much simpler if you just watch this GIF:
Slide onto a baking tray and leave to proof until puffy, about 45 minutes - 1 hour. It may take longer. As you have rolled it thin, it won’t double in size, but it will look noticeably puffy, like its had an allergic reaction.
For the custard, put the mascarpone in a bowl and work with a spatula until smooth, then stir in the double cream, egg until smooth - you mightt have to beat it a bit. Then finally add the lemon juice. If using, add the zest. Note that this makes it a less smooth custard.
Press down the centre of the proofed tart, moving any dough to the edges to help maintain the crater shape, then egg wash the edges and sprinkle with pearl sugar if using. Pour the custard into the middle of the bread and use a spoon to even it out making sure it goes right to the edges. Use your hands to gently cup the sides of the tart to make sure they are well reinforced!
Preheat the oven to 170C fan. Bake for 18-20 minutes or until golden on the edges and the custard barely wobbles when shaken - it might bubble a bit.
Leave to cool completely before cutting or decorating.
To decorate, cut the tops and bottoms off the oranges, remove the peels with a sharp knife and slice into thin portions. You can also cut a few segments to decorate.
Place on kitchen paper to absorb excess liquid then decorate the tart in a festive manner - I wouldn’t do too many layers as the custard is fragile and citrus is surprisingly heavy! Alternatively - and this is easier to serve - slice the tart first and then add the segments or citrus on afterward. Enjoy. Keep any leftovers in the fridge and bring to room temp before eating.
Hello Nicola,
Greetings from Romania!
It is so lovely to see something inspired by Romanian Pască, I can’t wait to try it.
Wishing you a happy and blessed Easter 🐣
This is so similar to Greek Tsoureki! I will have to compare my recipe with yours but the stringiness texture is exactly what makes it Tsoureki. Is your 6g yeast measurement for instant dry yeast?