Pretzels and A Fond Farewell

If the word "pretzel makes you think of the adjectives "dry," "crunchy," or "healthy," you have never been wooed by the homemade pretzel and rarebit at Dressel's Pub here in St. Louis.  Once you are subject to the charms of this butter* beauty, this fresh from the oven pillow of dough which is then dunked in a beer and cheese sauce, you will never (never, and I mean never) think of pretzels as something you buy in large plastic barrels from the grocery store.  The trouble is, when you go to Dressel's for a pretzel you're going to ask for a pint of beer, and while you're at it an entree or dessert since you visit the establishment less often than you like (but more often than you should).  A real-life, grown-up, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie scenario that results in quickly spending too much money in the name of the pretzel.  So what is a girl, The Mouse in this case I guess, supposed to do? Try to replicate the heavenly experience at home, of course. 
 

Steve researched and was in charge of the rarebit, which was a rousing success and proved itself on the first try.  The pretzels were good, not great. But encouraging enough to try it again for some friends, perhaps partially because I loved shaping the dough so much.  The second attempt yielded slight improvement, but I really have to say the third time was the charm.

The secret? Kneading the dough in the KitchenAid. For months, the KitchenAid laid dormant in the cupboard as I insisted on doing almost everything in the kitchen by hand, even though it took extra time. After a convincing argument from a bread book I had out from the library, I decided to give the KitchenAid a try...and I don't think I will ever knead bread by hand ever again. The dough came out beautifully and was better incorporated than I ever thought possible in a homemade bread. As a result, the pretzels came out perfect: a crispy, golden exterior, and a light, fluffy, almost cloud-like interior.  Between the risings and the restings and boiling the shaped dough prior to baking, making pretzels takes a long time.  In my book though, it's totally worth it, because we now have a freezer full of pretzels for later consumption. Um, yum.

Let's pause for a moment of silence and bid farewell to our good technique of hand kneading bread dough.  It was good to us, but in the end, was too fickle a mistress for us to settle down and marry.    

*I just realized that I use "buttery" very frequently when describing the positive attributes of foods I enjoy. I am unsure what this says about me or the health of my heart.