Three things come to mind when I think of Germans. Punctual. No nonsense. Bread snobs. I have the pleasure of being married to one who is none of the first, some of the second and all of the last. Oh, how I would dismiss his lamentations of this country's destruction of the hallowed loaf, my ophthalmic tendons straining under the tension of several robust and persistent eye rolls. Then I went to Germany for the first time and experienced their breads. After tasting everything from rustic loafs with rich-flavored crusts that crunch in the mouth without the assistance of a toaster to my favorite rosinenbrötchen, a slightly sweet triumph of a bun bursting with a nearly mathematical balance of raisins-- I was forced to admit: Germans know their way around a boule.
So, when I was in need of an edible scaffold with which to build up butter and jam and decided to make English muffins, I was nervous about my husband's critique. See the "no-nonsense" reference above. The trick? Using buttermilk for a hint of tang and whisper of sweetness. The result? He declared that they were the best English muffins he had ever tasted. Huzzah! Stick THAT in your rye and smoke it!
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