Baking is so obedient. So reliably consistent —you add a tablespoon of yeast to your dough, and it rises. Slowly and imperceptibly at first, sure, but then you turn around and it’s doubled into a pillowy soft mound. Magic! So close at hand!
(Unless, of course, your yeast is no good or your water is too hot or you add too much flour or something unexpected goes awry and your dough doesn’t rise. And then you have to fight the urge to crumble to the floor of the kitchen and quietly moan things like “is nothing sacred?” and “god I need some warm carbs” and “I’d like to divorce 2020 and have a torrid affair with 2018”.)
But hopefully it doesn’t come to that!
Growing up, we never ever had store-bought bread. Bread, in our household, was strictly homemade. On any given day, you’d find a half-sliced loaf of white sandwich bread in a plastic bag on the countertop, loosely secured with a twist tie. The freezer always held a few more loaves.
We rotated mostly between classic sandwich bread and raisin bread, lightly spiced with cinnamon. Every now and again we’d have potato bread (a very squishy and tender version of white sandwich bread) or anadama bread (made with whole wheat, cornmeal, and molasses).
We had pizza for dinner and homemade calzones from the leftover pizza dough that we’d pack for school lunches. At Christmas, we had tightly swirled cinnamon rolls baked in round cake pans.
We had popovers and olive oil-soaked focaccia and sometimes, oblong and irregular-shaped ciabatta loaves, riddled with pockets of air.
The only exception to the homemade bread rule (that I can remember) was a cookout.
We had cookouts every so often in the summertime. They were a special occasion—one we looked forward to gleefully. They required a decent amount of planning, since the fire pit was all the way down by the end of the first pond. We’d have to pack up our big wooden cart with all the essentials, then help my dad wheel it down the steep hill and around the edge of the pond.
The menu at a cookout was not fancy, and it remained fixed. We’d have potato chips (a novelty we were rarely allowed) and salad and burgers. There was no discussion over fancy meat blends or specialty condiments: the patties were made from basic ground chuck. You could add a slice of tomato or a piece of lettuce. We had Hunt’s ketchup and Heinz relish—no mustard for any of us except for my dad and my oldest sister.
And the buns: Martin’s potato rolls. Nothing artisan. Nothing deluxe.
(I would often squirt ketchup liberally onto a bun, squish it down into a compact ball, and eat that as a meal. It’s nice to be an 8-year-old and blissfully unaware of nutritional demands, isn’t it?)
Some things remain the same with cookouts nowadays: the potato chips and the ketchup and the ground chuck.
But instead of Martin’s, my mom makes the burger buns (and the graham crackers for the s’mores). She uses a King Arthur recipe with over 1,000 five-star reviews, so you know it’s good!
The buns are easy to make—you can shape them and bake them right on a baking sheet, or you can bake them in a bun pan if you want a more precise and uniform shape.
I planned to make them last weekend before remembering yet again that one of us in this household is VEGAN and this recipe requires both eggs and butter.
Not to worry! I subbed chickpea liquid (aquafaba) for the egg and use olive oil instead of butter. They turned out beautifully, but I’ve given both options below if you prefer to make them non-vegan (i.e. normal).
Additionally, I’ve had savvy baking friends tell me they have either left out the egg altogether with no issues, or subbed 1/4 cup of sweet potato for the egg, which apparently also gives the buns a nice color.
If you like, sprinkle the buns with sesame seeds or poppy seeds or another seed blend before baking.
(Vegan) Burger Buns
Makes 8 burger-sized buns
3/4 to 1 cup (170 to 227g) lukewarm water (use more when it’s dry out, less when it’s humid)
2 tablespoons (28g) olive oil (or unsalted butter, softened), plus more for brushing
3 tablespoons aquafaba (the liquid from a can of chickpeas)
3 1/2 cups (418g) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup (50g) sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon instant or active dry yeast
Mix all of the ingredients together either by hand or in a stand mixer.
Knead the dough until it’s smooth and very soft—it will be a bit sticky, and that’s okay. You want to knead it until it doesn’t look lumpy.
Transfer the dough to a large, lightly greased bowl and cover it loosely. Let it rise for about 1 1/2 hours in a warm spot—it should look puffy and nearly doubled but not quite.
Once risen, divide the dough into 8 equal piece (don’t worry too much if they’re not perfectly uniform in size, but you do want to aim for similar sizes which will ensure they bake evenly).
Roll each piece into a round, smooth ball and place it on a lightly greased baking sheet (I usually line a sheet with parchment and lightly grease the parchment). Leave plenty of space for the balls to expand—I usually put four buns on each sheet.
Cover the buns loosely with greased plastic wrap and let the dough rise for almost an hour, or until puffy and noticeably larger in size.
When the rise is almost complete, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
Remove the plastic wrap and brush the tops of the buns lightly with olive oil or melted butter. (If you’re using seeds, sprinkle those on top now.)
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until a light golden brown. Remove from the oven and brush again with olive oil or melted butter while still warm, then let cool on a wire rack.