Onion Asiago Sourdough: The Loaf My Kids Were Mad I Gave Away

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I gave half the loaf to my uncle.
My kids have not fully forgiven me for this and honestly I understand their position. This loaf was that good. The kind of good where you slice into it and everyone appears in the kitchen from wherever they were in the house, drawn in by the smell alone. Onion and asiago in a sourdough pan loaf sounds simple because it is simple. And sometimes simple is exactly the right answer.
My uncle loved it. My kids loved it. And the half that stayed home didn’t last long enough to see the next morning. That’s the whole review right there.

The asiago strategy.
This is the detail that makes this loaf special and it takes about thirty extra seconds of effort. Chop some of your asiago into small chunks and grate the rest. The grated asiago melts completely into the dough during baking and gives you this deep, salty, cheesy flavour threaded through every single bite. The chopped pieces stay more intact and create these little molten cheese pockets — a gentle pull when you tear a slice that is completely unreasonable in the best possible way. Two textures, one cheese, one very good decision.

The onion.
No chopping, no crying, no standing over a pan for forty five minutes. The onion in this loaf is about as easy as it gets and it works beautifully. It rehydrates during the long bulk fermentation and distributes evenly through the dough giving you that sweet savoury onion flavour in every bite without any of the fuss of fresh onion. This is a weeknight loaf. A throw it together and walk away loaf. The kind of recipe that makes you look like you put in a lot more effort than you actually did.

The Recipe

Onion Asiago Sourdough

9×5 pan loaf — straight starter method

The Dough
300g bread flour
100g whole wheat flour
315g water
80g active starter
20g olive oil
9g salt

The Inclusions (added at lamination)
3 tbsp minced onion
100g asiago — half grated, half chopped into small chunks

The Method
Mix all dough ingredients until no dry flour remains
Rest covered with a damp towel for 45 minutes
4 x stretch & fold every 30 minutes
Cover with damp towel and bulk on the counter for 12 hours or until 50% risen
Laminate — stretch dough flat, scatter minced onion and both asiago textures evenly across the surface, letter fold
Shape into a tight cylinder and place seam side down in a greased 9×5 pan
Cover and cold proof in the fridge for 12 hours
Preheat oven to 425°F
Pull dough straight from the fridge and score
Cover and bake 40 minutes
Uncover and bake a further 10-20 minutes until deep golden
Pull at internal temp 200°F
Cool at least 1.5 hours before slicing

A few things worth knowing.
The 12 hour counter bulk plus 12 hour cold proof gives this loaf serious flavour depth. The long slow fermentation develops the tang and the cold proof firms everything up so it holds its shape beautifully in the pan. Don’t rush either stage — the time is doing the work for you.
Score confidently straight from the fridge — cold dough scores cleanly and the contrast between the cold dough and the hot oven is what gives you that beautiful oven spring.
Cool it properly before slicing. The cheese needs time to set inside the crumb or you’ll lose those pockets on the cut and end up with a gummy middle. An hour and a half minimum. The loaf will still be warm. It will be worth the wait.

The honest review.
This is one of those loaves that doesn’t need much explaining. Onion and asiago in a long fermented sourdough pan loaf — the flavours are familiar and the result is deeply satisfying. My kids ate their half in one sitting and were genuinely annoyed that generosity existed as a concept when there was good bread involved.
Make this on a day when you have time to let it do its thing. It will reward the patience.
Just maybe make two loaves if you plan on sharing. Learn from my mistakes. 🧅🧀🍞

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I Replaced The Water With Coffee and I Have Zero Regrets.
I just wanted to see what would happen. I keep seeing these posts with people replacing the water in their loaves with sauce or beer or other weird things. I wanted to try it too, but I wanted to make something that was actually good.
That’s genuinely the whole origin story of this loaf. No grand plan, no carefully researched technique, no Pinterest inspiration board. Just me standing at my counter looking at my sourdough setup and thinking — what if the water wasn’t water. What if it was coffee.
So I made it coffee.
And then I added toasted walnuts and brown sugar at lamination because I was already committed to the chaos and there was really no reason to stop there. And then the loaf came out and it was fantastic and also it needed something. So I made a coffee glaze and drizzled it over the top and that was the moment this went from a really good experimental loaf to something I will absolutely be making on repeat.
Fair warning before we go any further. This loaf has caffeine. A meaningful amount of caffeine. It is an adults only situation and I say that with full sincerity. Plan your bake day accordingly.

What replacing the water with coffee actually does.
The coffee doesn’t make your sourdough taste like a coffee shop drink. It’s more subtle and more interesting than that. What it does is add this deep, slightly bitter, roasted undertone that runs underneath everything else in the loaf. It makes the whole thing taste more complex. More grown up. Like regular sourdough went on a trip somewhere and came back with a personality.
The fermentation process actually mellows the coffee flavour slightly during bulk which means the final loaf is rich and nuanced rather than aggressively caffeinated tasting. The walnuts and brown sugar at lamination do the rest of the work — the sugar caramelises slightly during baking and the toasted walnuts add this buttery, earthy crunch that is completely at home next to the coffee dough.

If you have ever eaten English coffee walnut cake — the classic British layered sponge with coffee buttercream and walnuts — this loaf is that energy translated into sourdough form. Nostalgic and deeply satisfying and the kind of thing that makes people close their eyes when they take the first bite.

On the glaze.
The loaf was fantastic without it. I want to be honest about that. But it needed something and I knew what that something was before I even finished the thought. Powdered sugar, instant coffee, a splash of milk and vanilla extract. Whisked until smooth and drizzled over the completely cooled loaf in that slow, dramatic way that makes for a very good video.
The glaze sets into this thin, slightly crisp coffee shell on top of the crust that is genuinely one of the better things I have put on a loaf of bread. It concentrates the coffee flavour right at the surface so you get that hit immediately before the more subtle notes in the crumb follow behind. It takes five ingredients and about ninety seconds and it is the difference between a great loaf and an exceptional one.

The Recipe

Coffee Walnut Sourdough

9×5 pan loaf — straight starter method

The Dough
300g bread flour
100g whole wheat flour
315g strongly brewed coffee, cooled to room temperature (replace water entirely)
80g active starter
30g brown sugar
20g neutral oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
9g salt

The Inclusions (added at lamination)
100g toasted walnuts, roughly chopped
30g brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon (optional but recommended)

The Coffee Glaze
80g powdered sugar
2 tbsp strongly brewed espresso or 1 tsp instant coffee dissolved
1 tbsp milk
Pinch of salt

The Method
Brew your coffee strong and let it cool completely to room temperature before it goes anywhere near your starter — hot liquid will kill it
Mix all dough ingredients until no dry flour remains. Rest 45 min
4 x stretch & fold every 30 min
Bulk until domed and jiggly — roughly 8-12 hrs

Lamination — stretch dough flat, scatter toasted walnuts, brown sugar and cinnamon evenly across the surface, fold back in
Shape into tight cylinder, place in greased 9×5 pan
Cold proof overnight in the fridge
Bake at 425°F — 20 min tented with foil, 18–20 min uncovered
Pull at internal temp 200–205°F
Cool completely before glazing
Whisk glaze ingredients until smooth, drizzle over cooled loaf and let set before slicing ☕(Bonus points for extra toasted nuts on top)

A few things worth knowing.
Cool your coffee completely before it goes into the dough. I cannot stress this enough. Hot or even warm liquid added to a dough with active starter will damage the fermentation and you will end up with a flat, sad loaf that tastes like regret. Brew it the night before if you want to be safe. Room temperature only.
Toast your walnuts. Four to five minutes in a dry pan over medium heat until they smell incredible. Raw walnuts inside bread taste flat and you deserve better than flat walnuts inside your very good coffee loaf.
The brown sugar at lamination will make the dough feel slightly tacky and sticky as you fold it back in. That is completely normal and not a problem. Work with confidence and it will come together.
And cool it fully before the glaze goes on. Fully. All the way. A warm loaf will swallow the glaze whole and you will lose that beautiful crisp coffee shell on top and that would be a tragedy. ☕

The honest review.
This is one of the best loaves I have made and I make a lot of loaves. The experiment worked in a way I genuinely did not see coming. One small decision — coffee instead of water — and the whole personality of the loaf changed completely.
Make it on a weekend. Glaze it properly. Eat it with salted butter and a cup of coffee and try not to vibrate out of your chair.
Adults only. You’ve been warned. ☕🥖

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My neighbor asked if I could make her Irish soda bread for St. Patrick’s Day.
And that was it. That was all she had to say. I was already mentally in my kitchen before she finished the sentence because that is just who I am and I have accepted it fully. Someone asks me to bake something and whatever I was doing before simply stops existing. It’s a gift. It’s also a problem. I’m at peace with both.
Irish soda bread has always been one of those recipes I genuinely love making because it’s fast, it’s unfussy, and it tastes like something a grandmother made in a farmhouse kitchen a hundred years ago. Which is basically the highest compliment I can give a recipe. No levain build, no stretch and fold, no cold proof. You mix it, you shape it, you bake it, and an hour later your whole house smells like something is deeply right with the world.
And this version uses sourdough discard which means you’re adding the benefits of some fermentation and making something beautiful at the same time. Multitasking at its finest.

Why cold butter changes everything.
Most Irish soda bread recipes have you melt the butter and mix it into the wet ingredients. That works fine. But cutting cold butter into the dry ingredients — the way you would for biscuits or pie crust — is the move that takes this from good to genuinely great.
Here’s what happens. When you work cold butter into flour in small pieces and then bake it, those little pockets of butter melt in the oven and create these tender, slightly flaky layers in the crumb. The texture becomes more biscuit-like. More traditional. More the kind of thing you eat warm with salted butter and wonder why you don’t make it every single week.
It takes an extra two minutes. It is worth every second of those two minutes.

The discard.
You can use active starter or discard for this recipe — both work. Discard will give you a slightly more pronounced tang which plays beautifully against the honey and raisins. Active starter gives a milder flavour. Either way the sourdough is doing two jobs here — adding flavour complexity and contributing to the rise alongside the baking soda. It’s not a traditional ingredient in Irish soda bread but once you add it you won’t be able to imagine it without.
If you don’t have buttermilk on hand make your own. (Honestly I never buy buttermilk. I always just make mine) Add a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar to a cup of milk, give it a stir, and let it sit for five minutes. It won’t be quite as thick as real buttermilk but it will do the job perfectly and you can’t even tell the difference.

The Recipe

Sourdough Discard Irish Soda Bread

Traditional round boule — serves 10-12

Dry Ingredients
2½ cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar

Wet Ingredients
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 cup milk + 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar, sit 5 min)
½ cup sourdough discard
2 tbsp honey
1 egg

The Cold Butter
4 tbsp cold butter, grated or cut into small cubes

The Add In
¾ cup raisins (soaked in warm water 10 min, drained)

The Method
Preheat oven to 400°F
Soak raisins in warm water while you get everything else together
Whisk all dry ingredients together in a large bowl
Grate the cold butter over the dry ingredients and work them in with your fingertips
In a separate bowl whisk buttermilk, discard, honey and egg together
Pour wet into dry and mix until just combined — shaggy and rough is exactly right, do not overmix
Drain raisins, pat dry, fold in gently
In order to handle it as little as possible, I use a bowl scraper and dump mine out right onto a parchment lined sheet pan, keeping it in a dome shape
Score a deep X across the top with a sharp knife or scissors (I often find the dough is too shaggy to use a knife and kitchen scissors are my best bet)
Bake 45–55 min until deep golden — tent with foil after 30 min if the top is darkening too fast
Internal temp 190–195°F
Cool on a wire rack at least 20 min before slicing

A few things worth knowing.

Do not overmix. I cannot say this enough. Irish soda bread rises from the reaction between the baking soda and the acid in the buttermilk and discard — not from gluten development. The more you work the dough the tougher the crumb gets. Mix until it just comes together, lumps and all, and stop. Shaggy is your friend here.
Soak the raisins. Dry raisins going straight into the dough will steal moisture and leave you with dry, dense pockets. Ten minutes in warm water makes them plump and jammy and they distribute through the crumb in a way that dry raisins simply don’t.

Score the X deep. Not a decorative little scratch — a real, confident, deep score that goes almost all the way through. It’s traditional, it helps the bread bake evenly through the centre, and it looks exactly right on a rustic round boule.
Cool it before you cut it. I know. I know it’s hard. Especially when your kitchen smells the way it smells when this comes out of the oven. Twenty minutes minimum. The crumb needs to set or it’ll be gummy in the middle and you’ll be sad.

The honest review.
My neighbor got her Irish soda bread. I, of course, made a mini one for myself and ate the entire thing over the sink with a tab of melted butter. No regrets. None at all.
Make this for someone you love. Or make it for yourself and eat it warm from the oven standing at the counter with salted butter.
Both are equally valid. 🍀🧈

I was tired.
Not tired in a dramatic way. Just tired of making the same loaf the same way and getting the same result. The carrot cake sourdough has always been a good loaf. Reliable. Crowd pleasing. The kind of thing you bring to Easter dinner and people ask for the recipe.
But I wanted more from her.
So I added a tablespoon of Dutch process cocoa into the flour before mixing and honestly I don’t know why it took me this long. One tablespoon and the whole loaf leveled up.

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The smell alone.
I need to talk about the smell because it hit different this time. Allspice, brown sugar, carrot, vanilla — and underneath all of it this deep warm cocoa note that made my whole kitchen smell like a bakery crossed with a spice market. My kids wandered in one by one like cartoon characters following a scent trail. That smell is what happens when cocoa meets warm spice in a fermented dough and it is completely unreasonable in the best possible way.

The glaze.
Cream cheese, powdered sugar, a splash of milk, vanilla. Whisked until smooth and drizzled over the completely cooled loaf. It sets into this thin barely there sweetness that ties the whole thing together without overwhelming the spice. Do not skip it. I totally skipped it this time and I deeply regret it. Do not cut the loaf before it sets. I know it’s hard. Wait anyway.

The honest review.
This is a dream loaf. I don’t say that about everything. The crumb is soft and loaded with carrot and nut and raisin pockets. The crust has this deep, spiced, slightly chocolatey note that hits you before you’ve even taken a bite. The cream cheese glaze on top makes it feel like an actual dessert that also happens to be sourdough. And the smell. I keep coming back to the smell. Your whole house will thank you.
One tablespoon of cocoa. That’s the whole secret. Sometimes the smallest thing changes everything.

Carrot Cake Sourdough

9×5 pan loaf
The Dough
300g bread flour
100g whole wheat flour

1 tbsp cocoa powder
315g water
80g active starter
30g honey or brown sugar
20g olive oil
9g salt
1 tsp vanilla

The Inclusions (folded in during stretch & fold)
120g finely grated carrot (squeezed)
60g toasted pecans or walnuts
50g raisins (soaked & drained)
1–1.5 tsp allspice

The Cream Cheese Glaze
½ cup cream cheese, softened
½ cup powdered sugar
2–3 tbsp milk or cream
½ tsp vanilla
Whisk until smooth and drizzle over fully cooled loaf. 🥕🍞

The Method
Mix 1 tbsp Dutch process cocoa into flour before adding any liquid
Add water, starter, brown sugar, oil, vanilla and salt. Mix until no dry flour remains. Rest 45 min
4 x stretch & fold every 30 min
Fold in grated carrot, toasted nuts, soaked raisins and allspice during stretch & fold
Bulk until domed and jiggly — roughly 12 hrs
Shape into tight cylinder, place in greased 9×5 pan
Cold proof overnight in the fridge
Score and bake at 425°F — 50ish min covered, 10 min uncovered
Pull at internal temp 200–205°F
Cool completely before glazing
Whisk glaze ingredients until smooth and drizzle over cooled loaf 🥕🍫🍞

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I hid the Oreos.
I genuinely hid them in the corner of my clutter counter behind a couple of brown bananas the basket of spices that are too big to fit in the spice rack. I thought I was being clever. My husband found them within eight hours and saved just enough for me to still make this loaf. I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed. Both. It’s both.
Then my kids discovered the gummy worms while I was working and picked through the bag with the quiet, focused energy of people who absolutely know what they’re doing and are hoping you won’t notice. This is what happens when you don’t buy sugary processed treats very often. They become a full family event. Apparently sourdough ingredients are fair game now.
Anyway. I still made the loaf. And it is completely unhinged and I love it.

Let’s talk about what this actually is.
Dirt pudding sourdough is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate cocoa dough, instant chocolate pudding mix stirred in dry, crushed Oreos and dark chocolate chunks folded in at lamination, frozen gummy worms added last. Cream cheese frosting on top with more crushed Oreos and worms poking out dramatically for the photo. It tastes like a childhood birthday party and a sourdough loaf had a baby and genuinely could not be more chaotic.
The pudding mix was the decision that took this from chocolate sourdough to actually dirt pudding in loaf form. You add it dry — don’t make the pudding first, just tip the powder straight into your flour with the cocoa before you mix. What it does is extraordinary. The cornstarch in the mix tenderises the gluten and gives you this soft, pillowy, almost cake-like crumb that stays moist for days. It deepens the chocolate flavour without you having to add more cocoa. The whole thing tastes genuinely indulgent in a way that plain chocolate sourdough just doesn’t quite hit.

The gummy worm situation.
This is the part that requires actual strategy and I say that completely sincerely. Room temperature gummy worms will dissolve almost entirely during the bake. You will end up with coloured sugar pockets and no worms and you will be sad. Freeze your gummy worms for at least two hours before they go anywhere near your dough. Frozen worms hold their shape, give you actual visible pieces in the crumb, and make the whole thing look as unhinged as it tastes.
For the worms on top — press them in right before baking, not after shaping. They firm up in the oven and hold their position for the photo which is ultimately what all of this is for anyway. Let’s be honest.

Dirt Pudding Sourdough Recipe

9×5 pan loaf — straight starter method

The Dough
300g bread flour
100g whole wheat flour
315g water
80g active starter
30g honey
20g neutral oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
9g salt
25g Dutch process cocoa (mixed into flour before adding water)
34g instant chocolate pudding mix (dry, mixed into flour)

The Inclusions (added at lamination)
80g Oreos, roughly crushed (keep some filling intact)
60g dark chocolate chunks
30g gummy worms, cut in half (freeze for 2+ hours first)

The Topping (before baking)
Crushed Oreos pressed into the top
2–3 gummy worms pressed in dramatically
The Cream Cheese Frosting
½ cup cream cheese, softened (4oz block)
½ cup powdered sugar
2 tbsp milk
1 tsp vanilla
2 tbsp crushed Oreos stirred through

The Method
Mix cocoa and pudding mix into flour before adding any liquid
Add water, starter, honey, oil, vanilla and salt. Mix until no dry flour remains. Rest 45 min
4 x stretch & fold every 30 min
Bulk rise on counter for 24 hours (for cold kitchens)
Laminate frozen worms, crushed Oreos and chocolate chunks straight after bulk
Press Oreos and gummy worms into the top
Bake immediately — no cold proof needed
Bake at 425°F covered for 1 hour, then uncovered for 10 min
Pull at internal temp 200°F
Cool completely before frosting
Spread cream cheese frosting over cooled loaf, top with crushed Oreos and gummy worms 🪱🍫

The process.
Same sweet base dough I use for everything — bread flour, whole wheat, water, active starter, honey, oil, vanilla, salt. Before you mix anything, combine your cocoa powder and dry pudding mix straight into the flour. This is important — you want it fully incorporated before the water goes in so it hydrates evenly and doesn’t streak.
Mix, rest forty five minutes, four sets of stretch and fold every thirty minutes. The dough will feel slightly stickier than usual because of the cornstarch in the pudding mix. That is completely normal. Do not add more flour. Trust the process.

Bulk until domed and jiggly. The cornstarch will slow things down slightly so give it an extra few hours compared to your usual bulk time and go by feel rather than the clock.

At lamination — stretch the dough out flat, scatter your roughly crushed Oreos across the surface. Rough chunks, not fine crumbs. You want actual Oreo pieces showing up in the crumb, not just darkness. Scatter dark chocolate chunks on top. Add your frozen gummy worms last, cut in half so they distribute more evenly. Fold everything back in gently and try not to think too hard about what you’re doing.

Shape into a tight cylinder, into your parchment lined 9×5 pan. Bake at 425°F, twenty minutes covered, eighteen to twenty minutes uncovered. Pull at 200°F internal — not 205°F, the chocolate and Oreos add enough moisture that you don’t need to push it further.

Cool it completely before the frosting goes on or it will slide straight off and you’ll be upset.

The frosting.
Cream cheese, powdered sugar, a splash of milk, vanilla, and crushed Oreos stirred through. Spread it over the cooled loaf, top with more Oreo crumbs and as many gummy worms as your family hasn’t already eaten. The contrast of the dark chocolate loaf against the cream cheese frosting with worms on top is genuinely one of the most chaotic and photogenic things I have ever put on my counter.

A few tips.
Freeze the worms. I cannot say this enough. Hide the Oreos better than I did — maybe a locked car, maybe a safety deposit box, use your judgement. Keep some of the Oreo filling intact when you crush them because the cream melts into the dough and adds a sweetness that is completely unreasonable. Pull at 200°F not 205°F. And do not skip the cream cheese frosting because this loaf deserves to fully commit to the bit.
This is the most chaotic thing I have made and I bake gummy worms into sourdough now apparently.
No notes. 🪱🍫

This one is bright, a little tart, deeply fragrant, and somehow manages to feel both cosy and fresh at the same time. It’s the loaf you make when you want to feel like you have your life together. Which, for the record, I do not. But the loaf does. And that counts for something.

Let’s talk about the orange zest.
This is the step most people skip and it’s the reason most citrus sourdoughs taste flat. Before that zest goes anywhere near your dough, you need to sugar it. Zest your orange directly onto a tablespoon of sugar and rub them together with your fingertips for about a minute until the sugar turns orange and smells incredible. What you’re doing is breaking down the zest and releasing all the essential oils — the good stuff. The flavour stuff. Skip this and you get a hint of orange. Do this and you get the whole thing.
Let it sit for ten minutes while you get on with your dough. It makes a difference.

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The process.
This loaf uses the same sweet base dough I use for most of my enriched sourdoughs — bread flour, whole wheat, water, active starter, a little honey, olive oil, salt, and vanilla. Mix it, rest it, stretch and fold four times over two hours.
Then comes lamination and this is where the magic happens. Stretch your dough out flat on a lightly wet surface until it’s thin enough to almost see through. Scatter the sugared orange zest evenly across the whole surface. Add your cranberries and sunflower seeds on top. Then squeeze half an orange directly over everything — that fresh hit of juice adds a punch of citrus that you simply cannot get from zest alone. Fold the dough back over itself like a letter, then fold again. What you’re left with is these beautiful ribbons of orange and cranberry swirled through the dough that show up stunningly in the crumb when you slice it.
Roll up the dough after laminating like a letter to tighten everything back up and you’re done.
Drop it into a parchment lined or greased 9×5 pan, and cold proof overnight( the cold proof is optional, but adds flavor and ferment).
Bake at 425°F. Cover for the first thirty minutes — the honey in the dough means it catches colour fast. Pull the cover, bake another eight to ten minutes until it’s deep golden and hits 200 to 205°F internally.
Cool it. Fully. I know. It’s hard. Do it anyway.

The glaze.
Powdered sugar, fresh orange juice, a little zest. Whisk until smooth, drizzle over the completely cooled loaf. It sets into this thin, slightly crisp citrus glaze that takes the whole thing from really good sourdough to something you’d genuinely be proud to put on a table in front of people.

Cranberry Orange Sunflower Sourdough Recipe

9×5 pan loaf — straight starter method

The Dough

300g bread flour

100g whole wheat flour

315g water

80g active starter

30g honey

20g neutral oil

1 tsp vanilla

9g salt

The Inclusions (added at lamination)

120g frozen cranberries (don’t thaw)

60g toasted sunflower seeds

Zest of 2 oranges (sugared first)

½ orange squeezed fresh

The Glaze

80g powdered sugar

2 tbsp fresh orange juice

1 tsp orange zest

The Method

Mix all dough ingredients until no dry flour remains. Rest 45 min

4 x stretch & fold every 30 min

Lamination — stretch dough flat, scatter sugared zest, cranberries and sunflower seeds across the surface, squeeze orange juice over everything, fold back in

One more stretch & fold 30 min later to tighten up

Bulk until domed and jiggly — roughly 5–6 hrs

Shape into a tight cylinder and place in a greased 9×5 pan

Cold proof overnight in the fridge

Bake at 425°F — 20 min tented with foil, 18–20 min uncovered

Pull at internal temp 200–205°F

Cool fully before glazing

Whisk glaze ingredients until smooth and drizzle over cooled loaf 🍊🌻

A few tips before you go.
Toast your sunflower seeds first in a dry pan for four to five minutes until golden and fragrant — raw seeds inside bread taste flat and you deserve better than that. Sugar the zest every single time, no exceptions. Squeeze that fresh orange juice over your lamination — it’s the detail that takes this loaf from good to actually memorable. Soak your dried cranberries if that’s the route you’re going. Don’t rush the cool before you glaze or it will slide straight off and pool at the bottom and you’ll be upset. And don’t panic if the crumb looks pink or blush — that’s the cranberries doing their thing and it is exactly right.

This loaf is bright and a little chaotic and somehow pulls itself together beautifully in the end.

Relatable, honestly. 🍊