Pretzel Party/War

     This is probably the most significant post this blog has or ever will have. With the help of my friend, Lauryn, we would make a successful, albeit sad attempt at making homemade soft pretzels.

     It starts with a recipe. We borrowed one from chef/scientist/comedian Alton Brown. With a dash of ingenuity, lack of proper ingredients, and a bit of kitchen ignorance, we ended up with a plateful of imperfect pretzels. But, who said we were perfect? (Not us, obviously, HA)

Combine the water, sugar and kosher salt in the bowl of a stand mixer and sprinkle the yeast on top.

We didn't have a stand mixer so we just used a mixing bowl. Oh well.

Add the flour and butter and using the dough hook attachment, mix on low speed until well combined. 

The recipe called for melted butter. We accidentally made it scorching, hence, into the fridge it went.

Also, a strong arm (in this case, Lauryn's) and wooden spoon can properly replace the dough hook attachment. At least it worked for us.

Change to medium speed and knead until the dough is smooth and pulls away from the side of the bowl, approximately 4 to 5 minutes. 

Or just stir harder.

Remove the dough from the bowl, clean the bowl and then oil it well with vegetable oil.

I think she had too much fun with this part.

Return the dough to the bowl, cover with plastic wrap and sit in a warm place for approximately 50 to 55 minutes or until the dough has doubled in size.

Yeast in action!

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Line 2 half-sheet pans with parchment paper and lightly brush with the vegetable oil. Set aside.

We didn't use parchment paper, but we're still alive. If you're wondering why we didn't use parchment paper, well, we're poor and lazy. However, if you do decide not to use parchment paper, like we did, use a nonstick baking sheet. It'll make cleanup much easier.

Bring the 10 cups of water and the baking soda to a rolling boil in an 8-quart saucepan or roasting pan.

Keep an eye on it if you don't want it to end up like a fourth grade science project. Do as we say, not as we do.

Also, we used baking powder, not baking soda. The three key components of baking powder are baking soda (sodium bicarbonate), cream of tartar, and some form of starch. Because it's a blend, you have to use 2-3 times the amount of baking powder as baking soda for the levels of the sodium bicarbonate to even out. (We used twice the amount.)

In the meantime, turn the dough out onto a slightly oiled work surface and divide into 8 equal pieces. 

Roll out each piece of dough into a 24-inch rope. 

She's going to be a great trophy wife someday.

This is the fun part.

Make a U-shape with the rope, holding the ends of the rope, cross them over each other and press onto the bottom of the U in order to form the shape of a pretzel. Place onto the parchment-lined half sheet pan.

In other words, once you have a long doughy rope of deliciousness, make it look like the pretzel of your dreams.

Or nightmares. Dream big: aim low.

Place the pretzels into the boiling water, 1 by 1, for 30 seconds. Remove them from the water using a large flat spatula. Return to the half sheet pan, brush the top of each pretzel with the beaten egg yolk and water mixture and sprinkle with the pretzel salt.

Now, they'll tell you that the egg mixture is to make the dough brown while in the oven, as well as give it a bit of a crust or shell. What they don't tell you is, if you don't know what the hell you're doing, it will raise your hopes only to shoot them down in a miserable, shameful spiral of colorless pretzel-ness. If that didn't make sense, it's because our pretzels didn't darken past a shade of light khaki and we are still disheartened.

Bake until dark golden brown in color, approximately 12 to 14 minutes.

LIES, LIES, LIES. (Although the 12 to 14 minutes part is right.)

 Transfer to a cooling rack for at least 5 minutes before serving.

I still think they're damn precious.

Come here, cutie.

Now, the recipe didn't say this, but that's because it's obvious: serve with mustard.

We had six options, but narrowed it down to three: French's yellow mustard, a grey poupon, and a raspberry clover-honey mustard. The first being the classic, the second being the most robust (think horseradish-y, clear-your-sinuses kind of kick,) and the last being a uniquely sweet mustard.

So many chances for happiness.

Well, they'll probably all be gone by the time this is posted. They weren't exactly perfect looking, and we made a mess in the kitchen, but they are definitely worth the hassle.