When I thought of preparing an article on bread, I felt perfectly qualified for the job, not because of exceptional experience in baking bread but because of unrivaled experience in eating it. I had eaten thousands of miles of bread—long white loaves, round black loaves, loaves of every shade and gradation, every shape and form. I was, in fact, panivorous. I would work at leisure, giving myself plenty of time to send for stone-ground hours and to let out my dresses. My article would attempt to get the cook hack to the bread—baking oven, for most women. I decided were afraid to bake bread and defeated by the word “yeast” in a recipe. It seemed to me that if more women would return to simple, homely tasks—such as the baking of the daily bread—fewer would be writhing on psychiatrists couches or lolling in from of television screens. If America's husbands could return home from tension filled days at the office and open their front doors to the aroma of freshly baked bread, more of them would feel the awakening of long-forgotten memories of carefree childhoods and helmed mothers. They would feel welling up in their hearts a great new love for the wives and children who might have been getting on their nerves.
I would urge my readers to lake inspiration from primitive woman, with whom my article would begin. She, at least, proved her mastery of the science of nutrition by combining grass seeds and water into a “dough” which she balked in the sun and fed to her family. But modern woman, the object of my missionary program, had struck bread from her diet for the rest of her life.
To lead the cook back to the oven and to guide her wisely past all the seeming pitfalls of bread-baking, I would first have to take myself back to the oven and produce my own perfect golden loaf of bread. I would not have attempted to write the article if I had never baked bread. But a loaf of bread baked quietly at home without written notes, temperature-takings, and stopwatch timings was very different from what I contemplated doing.
At the beginning of my four months with bread, long before I developed a mild psychosis called panomania, I took what I considered the intelligent approach. I gathered as many books on bread and its history as I could locate and wrote to book finders for the rest. Books came trickling in from England. the Continent, America—every book I wanted except, of course, the one I wanted most, That, they said, was impossible to find anywhere; even the public library sent a pessimistic card saying its copies were so long overdue that they were considered permanently lost. Books on bread are still coining to me from the book finders and probably will for years.
Next, I visited large organizations which were devoting millions of dollars a year to the production of flour or yeast, and still other organizations actually engaged in baking vast quantities of bread. Everyone was kindness itself: They didn't suspect the loss of trade that loomed ahead! All this research took more time than the article required, but what of that? I had modern woman by the hand and I was determined to give her life new meaning and her home a fabulous Old World fragrance.
I now started to read the books I had collected; though misleading, they all agreed on some points. Bread, they said, was the Staff of Life. If also had made history with Marie Antoinette's fatally tactless remark, “Let them eat cake.” I learned, too, that the fine for murdering a baker was three times as high as the fine for killing an ordinary man—in the centuries before a baker in Pudding Lane started the Great Fire of London in 1666. After that my authorities disagreed. Some books contained fascinating graphs on potash and calcium. Temperatures were in centigrade, Celsius, and Reaumur, and measures were in kilos, grams, deciliters, centiliters, c.c.'s, and percentages. No one ever wrote on bread in simple straightforward Fahrenheit, pounds, ounces, cups, and spoons. Some said bread was invented; others claimed it was discovered, I decided then and there that in my article it would be both invented and discovered. Some dated bread-baking from 5000 B.C.. others, from 15000 B.C. One cryptically said 25000 Z.R. (1 spent hours tracking down this abbreviation only to find it meant “time of reckoning.”) Another authority, who bit off far more bread than he could chew, wrote that man was 600, 000 years old and bread roughly 500, 000. An Albanian adage said bread was older than man while an Italian adage said it was wiser than man. In a chapter on bread-stamping and trade-marking, 1 found a strange little story about a well-marked loaf:
Aleris E. Canis, a master baker, prepared his dough according to the latest methods and shaped his loaves on a stone table. He stamped them with his name and a word to describe the kind of bread he had baked. When the loaves were proved, he pushed them into his up-to-date oven, equipped with a compartment for water so that the steam would keep the crusts soft. His entire bakery and his implements were modern, perhaps more modern than many present-day European bakeries. An Englishman took the loaves out of the oven 1,800 years later and found them perfectly preserved, complete with name and description. Vesuvius had erupted and buried Pompeii in the ashes which had destroyed the town, but preserved the bakery and the bread in its oven.
After I read every word, the real work began. The authorities and the milling companies agreed on one point—temperatures. Naturally, I started with a thermometer. I became the woman who knew the exact temperature at the corner of the kitchen counter when the thermostat was set at 72° Fahrenheit. I knew how warm my flour was in the canister, and, having discovered that it was cold, poor thing, I changed my kitchen around so that the flour would always be 72° Fahrenheit. As I intended telling my readers to test water until it was lukewarm, I heated and cooled countless pans of water and tested the water on my wrist. In a small way, I became a heating and air-conditioning engineer. I knew the temperature over the radiator, the difference in temperature between an outside and an inside wall—I even knew my own temperature.
Having established the correct temperatures, I turned to recipes. Some expensive, beautifully bound German books had to be discarded because they urged their readers to run over to the brewery for a cup of brewers' yeast. Some gold-tooled English books advised going to the baker for a cup of bakers' yeast. Still another—rather a primitive one—suggested taking yeast from the air. To make sour dough bread, I had to find a warm place well sealed from my living quarters lest they be permeated by a strong-smelling batch of souring dough. Sour dough could also be obtained through the mail.
After I had discarded half the recipe books, I made a chart of the rest. Ingredients could vary, but my prospective loaf would have to be prepared in an “Even Draughtless Temperature.” And it would have to be “Kneaded.”
By this time. I was baking bread on weekends and writing about it on the train each day en route to the job which a provident fate had arranged for me, since living on bread articles alone would not be easy.
My breads were carefully prepared: Temperatures were adjusted, flour was sifted, dough was kneaded, sponges rose in proper splendor in protected corners of my house. Doughs, covered by immaculate preheated dish towels, rose double their bulk on schedule in well-chosen locations The surface of the dough was oiled and creamed as carefully as a cheek at Elizabeth Arden's. Yeast was dated and watched—hadn't 1 just learned it was alive? A new pet, in fact, that had to he fed and cared for. The utensils, the ingredients, and 1 were warmed to the proper temperature. Alarm clocks were set. notes were made, and recipes were written. The article was completed. Only one step remained to be taken.
During my entire bread-baking period, while I had been eating, testing, baking, living, and writing bread, 1 had encountered only one perfect loaf among the many I had tried—a loaf so finely textured, so beautifully crusted, and of such perfect appearance and taste that I knew my search was ended. Its creator was obviously a cook who had mastered every last detail, who meticulously followed directions, who knew her temperatures and had conquered the knack of kneading, I asked if I could spend a day or two with her to see the bread baked, to confirm all my findings in golden reassuring perfection.
Jean said I needn't come in the morning—the afternoon would be time enough. It would take about half an hour. Our appointment was arranged without any consultation as to whether the day was to be sultry or clear and cold.
I went over to Jean's house at three thirty. Her kitchen was cool, the windows were open—she didn't own a thermometer. She took an ordinary cupboard-temperature bowl and placed in it monstrous heaping spoonfuls of shortening, sugar, and coarse salt. On this mixture she poured boiling water. After measuring warm water from the tap into a battered cup, she emptied two packages of yeast into the cup. We went into the living room to look at some books. Jean thought she had the absolutely-impossible-to-find book on bread upstairs—then she remembered it had been sent to a rummage sale. We returned to the yeast, which had just risen over the lop of the cup. She combined her mixtures, stirred in eggs, added unsifted Hour, and stirred the dough. She added more flour and stirred a little more. She protected the rough, unbuttered dough with an a plastic cover and put it into the refrigerator. She said we should come back for dinner at any time, no sooner than two hours and no later than eight days. The dough would be ready. We returned at dinnertime the same day. The dough had risen up to the tight cover. Jean divided it into three parts with a knife, creamed her hands with vegetable shortening. picked up each piece, and squeezed the air out of it. She worked the pieces in her hands for a few seconds and laid them into cold unbuttered pans which, like the omelette pan and salad bowl. had never been washed. She then found a lovely drafty spot exactly between her bedroom door and the outside door. placed the bread pans on a tray with a dish towel over them, and put them on a suitcase rack. We had cocktails and dinner, and in an hour and a half the bread had risen. Jean put it into a moderate oven, immediately reduced the heat slightly, and looked at it once after fifteen minutes to change the pans around—the back of her oven is hotter than the front. After ten minutes more. the bread came out of the oven and out of the pans. The loaves were laid on a wire rack on their sides to cool. Tasted next morning, it proved to be the perfect loaf: unkneaded, ungreased, unpampered, and unsung. It was only perfect. I discarded my article.
Jean Regan's Bread
In a large mixing bowl, combine 1/3 to ½ cup sugar, 1 heaping tablespoon tough salt or 1 level tablespoon ordinary salt, 1/3 cup shortening, and 2 cups boiling water. Let the mixture cool to lukewarm.
Into a I-cup measure put ¼ cup lukewarm water, 1 teaspoon sugar, and 2 packages dry yeast, and let the yeast bubble until it reaches the top of the cup. Add the yeast to the mixture in the bowl, then add 2 well-beaten eggs and stir. Add 4 cups unsifted white flour and stir the dough until smooth. Add another 4 cups flour and work the dough until the flour is incorporated. Cover the bowl with a light plastic cover and place it in the refrigerator.
After 3 hours take the dough from the refrigerator and cut it into three parts. Rub the hands with vegetable shortening, and work each piece of dough in the hands, squeezing out the air. Shape the pieces of dough and place them, smooth side up, in 3 unbuttered and unwashed tin bread pans. Cover the loaves and let them stand in a warm place (near a radiator or a sunny window) for about 1 ½ hours, or until the centers of the loaves rise above the edges of the pans.
Place the loaves in a moderate oven (350° F.) and immediately reduce the heat to moderately slow (325° F.). Bake the loaves for about 25 minutes, or until they come out of the pans easily. Cover a wire grill with a towel, remove the loaves from the pans, and lay them on their sides on the towel. Cover them and let them cool.
While Bread
Sprinkle I package dry yeast over 1 cup lukewarm water in a large mixing bowl, warmed by rinsing with hot water, and stir the mixture with a wooden spoon until the yeast is dissolved. Place 2 ½ teaspoons salt in a measuring cup and add enough sugar to make ¼ cup. Warm 6 tablespoons butter to room temperature and place the butter and sugar and salt near the stove until they are needed.
Scald 1 cup milk, remove the saucepan from the heat, and stir in the butter until it is melted Add the salt and sugar and stir until they are dissolved. Cool the milk mixture to lukewarm and Stir it into the yeast. Stir in 3 cups sifted white flour, 1 cup at a time, beating the batter well with a wooden spoon until it is smooth. Beat in another 3 cups sifted white flour, one by one, to obtain a rather sticky dough. As it becomes more difficult to stir with the spoon, use a beating motion. Or the dough may be mixed with the cupped hand until all the flour is absorbed.
Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured pastry board, scraping out any dough that sticks to the bowl. (It is not necessary to flour the hands, even though the dough is sticky.) Work the dough with the cupped hands, drawing it toward you from the board and pushing it back. As soon as it can he handled easily, knead it by drawing it toward you and pressing it down and away from you with the heels of the hands. Bread dough may be roughly treated. The dough should be kneaded about 7 to 9 minutes, or until it is glossy and bubbles appear under the surface.
Warm the mixing bowl again by rinsing it, place in it 1 teaspoon soft or melted butter, and add the dough to the bowl, rolling it around a few times to fully coat the surface with the butter. Cover the bowl with a warm towel and let it stand in a warm place while the dough rises. Ideally, the temperature should be 82° F., and the dough free from drafts or changes of temperature. Let the dough stand undisturbed until it doubles in bulk, about 1 to 1 ½ hours. The warmer the place, the more rapidly it will rise, but if the place is too warm and the dough rises too rapidly, the quality of the bread will suffer.
Turn out the dough onto the lightly floured pastry board again and punch it down to push out the air. Punching down means folding in the sides of the dough toward the center and working it back to its original bulk. Cover the dough with the warm towel and let it rest for 15 minutes. Butter thoroughly 2 standard-sized bread pans (9“ by 5” by 3”). Cut the dough in half, work the halves until they are smooth, and form the dough into loaves a little shorter than the pans. Place the loaves in the pans, scam side down.
Cover the loaves with a warm towel and let them rise again until the centers are higher than the edges of the pans, about 1 hour. Place the loaves in the center of the center rack of a hot oven (400° F.) and bake them for 15 minutes. Reduce the heat to moderate (350° F.) and bake the loaves for 35 to 40 minutes longer, or until they shrink a little from the sides of the pans and sound hollow when they are tapped.
Remove the loaves from the oven, paint the tops with 1 tablespoon melted butter, and lay them on their sides across the pans to cool, covering them with the towel. If a harder, crisper crust is desired, cool the loaves without covering them. Although oven-warm bread is wonderful to eat, it is hard to slice. These loaves are actually at their best for slicing and eating on the following day.
Rye Bread
In a large warm mixing bowl stir together I cup scalded milk, 1 tablespoon molasses, and 1 ½ teaspoons salt, and cool the mixture to lukewarm. Dissolve 1 package dry yeast in 1 cup lukewarm water and add it to the milk mixture. Add 1 cup each of rye flour and white flour and beat the dough with a wooden spoon until it is smooth. Add another cup each of rye and white flour and beat the dough again. Add 2 cups rye flour, 1 ½ tablespoons melted butter, and 1 tablespoon caraway seeds, knead the dough well until it is smooth, and put it in a buttered bowl. Cover the bowl and let the dough rise in a warm place until it doubles in bulk, about 1 hour. Knead the dough again and divide it in half. Form the halves into 2 rounded loaves and place them on a baking sheet sprinkled with corn meal. Cover the loaves with a warm towel and let them rise again until they are light, about 1 hour, brush them with egg white, and bake them in a hot oven (400° F.) for about 40 minutes.
Whole Wheat Bread
In a large warm mixing bowl combine 1 ¾ cups scalded milk, ¼ cup each of soft butter and honey or molasses, and 1 tablespoon salt, and let the mixture cool to lukewarm. Dissolve 1 package dry yeast in ¼ cup lukewarm water and add it to the milk mixture. Add 3 cups whole-wheat Hour and stir the mixture well with a wooden spoon. Add 3 more cups whole-wheat flour, working it in ½ cup at a rime, Turn out the dough onto a floured board and allow it to rest for 10 minutes.
Knead the dough for 10 minutes. Place if in a buttered bowl, cover it with a warm towel, and let it rise until it doubles in bulk, about 1 ¼ hours. Punch down the dough and let it rise again for 1 hour. Divide it in half, cover it again with a warm towel, and let it rest for 10 minutes. Shape the dough into 2 loaves, place them in 2 buttered bread pans. 9” by 5” by 3”. cover them with a warm towel, and let them rise again until the centers are higher than the edges of the pans. Bake the loaves in a hot oven (400” F.) for 35 minutes, or until the loaves shrink from the sides of the pans. Lay the loaves on their sides across the pans to cool, covering them with a warm towel.
Sour Dough Starter I (Without Yeast)
In a glass jar or an enamel or earthenware container mix 2 cups each of white flour and warm water, preferably water in which potatoes have been cooked. Let the mixture stand in the sun or in a warm place from 2 to 4 days, until the mixture is sour and bubbly. The more sour the smell, the better.
Sour Dough Starter II (With Yeast)
In a glass jar or an enamel or earthenware container dissolve 1 package dry yeast in ¼ cup lukewarm water. Add 2 cups warm water, preferably water in which potatoes have been cooked, 2 cups white flour, and 1 tablespoon each of salt and sugar, cover the mixture lightly with a warm towel, and let it stand until it is sour and bubbly, about 2 to 4 days.
Always replenish the starter so that after each bread-baking at least 2 cups starter remain in the original unwashed receptacle for the next baking.
Sour Dough Bread
Into a warm mixing bowl measure I cup sour dough starrer (the yeast starter is more reliable). Scald ½ cup milk, stir in 1 ½ tablespoons each of sugar and melted butter, and let the mixture cool. Add the milk mixture to the starter. Sift 3 ½ cups white Hour over the starter and mix all together. When the flour and liquid are blended, turn the dough onto a lightly floured board and knead it for 2 minutes. Place the dough in a buttered bowl, cover it and let it rise in a warm place until it doubles in bulk, about 1 ½ hours.
I Punch down the dough, cover it with a warm towel, and let it rise a second time, about ½ hour. Punch down the dough again and shape it into a ball, working on the floured board, and let it rest tor 10 minutes. Pat the ball into a loaf shape and turn I it into a buttered bread pan. Cover the loaf lightly with a warm towel and let it rise again until it doubles in bulk. Bake the loaf in a hot oven (400° F.) for 45 minutes, or until it is brown. Lay the loaf on its side across the pan to cool, Covering it with a warm towel.
Swedish Ijmpa Bread
In a large warm mixing bowl dissolve 2 packages dry yeast in 1 1 /2 cups lukewarm water. Add ¼ cup each of molasses and sugar. 1 tablespoon salt. and the finely grated rind of 2 oranges. Mix in 2 tablespoons soft butter and 2 1/2 cups sifted rye flour, and when the flour is thoroughly blended add 2 ½ cups sifted white flour, turn out the dough onto a floured board, and knead it until it is smooth. Remove the dough to a buttered bowl, cover it with a warm towel, and let it rise until it doubles in bulk, about 2 hours.
Punch down the dough and let it rise again until it doubles in bulk, about 1 hour. Punch it down again, divide it in half, and, with floured hands, form it into 2 round loaves. Place the loaves on a buttered baking sheet, cover them with a warm damp towel, and let them rise again until they double in bulk, about 1 hour. Bake the loaves in a moderately hot oven (375° F.) for 35 minutes. Brush the tops with melted butter and let them cool.
Raisin Batter Bread
In a large warm mixing bowl combine 2/3 cup hoc water, 1/3 cup sugar, ¼ cup soft butter, and 2 teaspoons salt, and let the mixture cool to lukewarm. Dissolve 2 packages dry yeast in ½ cup warm water and add it to the mixture in the bowl. Add 1 beaten egg, 3 cups sifted white flour, and 1 cup raisins dusted with ¼ cup white flour, and stir the dough until it is well blended, at least 3 minutes. Cover the dough with a warm towel and let it rise in a warm place until it doubles in bulk, about I hour. Stir down the dough and beat it for 1 minute, turn it into a buttered 1 ½-quart casserole, and bake the bread in a hot oven (400° F.) for 3/4 hour. The dough for this bread is loose enough to be stirred father than kneaded.
French Bread
In a warm mixing bow. dissolve 1 package yeast in 1 ¼ cups lukewarm water. Add 1 ½ teaspoons salt, 3 tablespoons soft butter, and 1 cups sifted white flour. and stir with a wooden Spoon, Add 2 more cups sifted white flour and turn out the dough onto a lightly floured board. Knead the dough until it is Smooth, about 6 to 8 minutes. Place the dough in a buttered bowl and turn it until the whole Surface is coated. Covet the dough with a warm damp towel and let it rise in a warm place until it doubles in bulk, about 1 ½ to 2 hours.
Punch down the dough, cover it with a warm damp towel, and let it rise again for 45 minutes. Punch down the dough, cover it again, and let it rest for 15 minutes. Shape the dough into a rectangle 15 inches long, roll it up the narrow way, and seal the edges well. Roll it gently to elongate it into an even, narrow roll, as long as your baking sheet will allow—at least 17 inches.
Butter a baking sheet, sprinkle it with corn meal, and arrange the loaf on it. Brush the top with cold water. Cut ¼inch-deep diagonal slashes along the top. 3 inches apart, and let the dough Stand, uncovered, for 1 ½ hours. Brush flutop again with cold water and bake the bread in a moderately hot oven (375” F.) for 20 minutes. Brush with 2 tablespoons water stirred into 1 egg white and bake the bread for 25 minutes longer.
Pumpernickel
In a warm mixing bowl dissolve 3 packages dry yeast in 1 ½ cups lukewarm water, and add ½ cup molasses, 3 tablespoons caraway seeds, and 1 tablespoon salt. Stir the mixture well. Add 2 tablespoons soft batter and 3 cups rye flour, and mix well with a wooden spoon. Add 5 cups sifted white (lour and turn out the dough onto a lightly floured board. Knead the dough until it is smooth, about ft to 10 minutes. Place the dough in a buttered bowl and turn the dough until it is thoroughly coated. Cover the dough with a warm damp towel and let it rise in a warm place until it doubles in bulk, about 2 hours.
Punch down the dough and work it into 2 balls. Place the balls of dough on a baking sheet sprinkled with corn meal, cover with a warm damp towel, and let them rise for 45 minutes. Brush the tops of the loaves with water and bake them in a very hot oven (450° F.) for 10 minutes, reduce the heat to moderate (350° F.), and bake them for 30 minutes longer.