It's bread baking day at the Merriman household, and Felicity is happy to have her friend Elizabeth helping out with the tedious chore. Today they're making loaves of Sally Lunn bread, a soft and dense loaf rich with eggs and sugar, reminiscent of French brioche.
The recipe comes from Felicity's Cookbook, which I've owned for years and have used quite often. I made this bread for the very first time this week, and I was very happy with how it turned out. It's soft, flavorful, and doesn't require any kneading. As much I as I enjoyed it, I don't think it will ever be my go-to bread recipe, since it's so exceedingly rare for me to have eggs, milk, butter, and sugar in my kitchen all at the same time!
Unlike Felicity, I never learned to make bread when I was her age. When I grew up and moved out into my own place, I brought my childhood copy of Kirsten's Cookbook, and the recipe for whole wheat round bread was what got me started and helped me learn to make my own bread instead of buying it. I've been doing that ever since. I even taught my mom to make homemade bread, which had always intimidated her.
Felicity's Cookbook mentions that the origin of the name "Sally Lunn" is not known for certain. It might come from the French words "soleil-lune" which means "sun-moon", or "sol et lune" (sun and moon) due to the golden top (sun) and white interior (moon). I checked to see if this is still a mystery 30+ years after Pleasant Company published this book, and apparently it still is. The Sally Lunn Eating House in Bath, England claims that the recipe originated from a French Huguenot refugee named Solange Luyon, whose name was then Anglicized as Sally Lunn, but there's still no solid evidence of this being true either.
In the UK, Sally Lunn bread is usually made as buns, while in the American South it's a loaf made in a round or tube pan. I thought it would be cute to make it in doll-sized mini loaf pans so Felicity and Elizabeth could help.
The recipe is below the cut, with a few of my (experienced bread baker) adaptations.
