"We will divide this dough into two parts, one
of which we will place in this earthen bowl,
which has been warmed and well greased, you
perceive, and, covering closely, set aside to make
into French twist after it has again risen. The
remaining half we will subdivide into four parts,
making each into a round mass ; then by rolling it
back and forth under the hand, bring it into a form
resembling these bread-pans, which are four or five
inches wide, eight or ten long, and six deep ; and
made, you observe, of sheet-iron, not tin. But
for the weight, I would prefer to have them of
cast-iron.
"Having v/armed and greased the pans, put the
loaves in, and set them on the table close together,
covering them first with a towel, then with sev-
eral folds of woollen blanket or other cloth, reach-
22 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING.
ing to the table on all sides, thus excluding the
air from the pans. Bread covered in this way
rises evenly, and never has a dried, stifi' surface
before it is leaked.
" This bread will need to stand in the pans to
rise about an hour, perhaps longer, the exact time
required depending upon the quantity of flour
added at the last kneading, the temperature of the
bread when put in the pans, the state of the
atmosphere of the room, the size of the loaves,
and other circumstances. To decide when bread
is just light enough is a very nice point, and not
less important than difficult ; for, if you put it to
bake a moment too soon, you fail to realize all
the good which your labor has entitled you to ;
while, if you permit it to pass the point of perfect
lightness, you lose the bcbt results of your toil.
"Here, Alice, read what Miss Beecher says
upon the subject of bread, in the 'American
Woman's Home.'"
" The true housewife makes her bread the sov-
ereign of her kitchen — its behests must be at-
tended to in all critical points and moments, no
matter what else be postponed. She who attends
to her bread only when she has done this, and
arranged that, and performed the other, very
often finds that the forces of nature will not
wait for her. The snowy mass perfectly mixed.
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 23
kneaded with care and strength, rises in its beau-
tiful perfection till the moment comes for fixing
the air-cells by baking. A few moments now,
and the acetous fermentation will begin, and the
whole result be spoiled. ^lany bread-makers
pass in utter carelessness over this sacred and
mysterious boundary. Their oven has cake in
it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to
some other of the so-called higher branches of
cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into
the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready
to attend to it, they lind that it has been going its
own way ; it is so sour that the pungent smell is
plainly perceptible. Now, the saleratus-bottle is
hauled down and a quantity of the dissolved alkali
is mixed with the paste, — an expedient sometimes
making itself too manifest by greenish streaks and
small acrid spots in the bread. As the result, we
have a beautiful article spoiled, — bread without
sweetness, if not absolutely sour.
Page 7
Presented as published in 1880. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
AI-modernized reading of the original text
"We will divide this dough into two parts, one of which we will place in this earthen bowl, which has been warmed and well greased, you perceive, and, covering closely, set aside to make into French twist after it has again risen. The remaining half we will subdivide into four parts, making each into a round mass ; then by rolling it back and forth under the hand, bring it into a form resembling these bread-pans, which are four or five inches wide, eight or ten long, and six deep ; and made, you observe, of sheet-iron, not tin. But for the weight, I would prefer to have them of cast-iron.
"Having warmed and greased the pans, put the loaves in, and set them on the table close together, covering them first with a towel, then with several folds of woollen blanket or other cloth, rereaching to the table on all sides, thus excluding the air from the pans. Bread covered in this way rises evenly, and never has a dried, stiff surface before it is baked..
" This bread will need to stand in the pans to rise about an hour, perhaps longer, the exact time required depending upon the quantity of flour added at the last kneading, the temperature of the bread when put in the pans, the state of the atmosphere of the room, the size of the loaves, and other circumstances. To decide when bread is just light enough is a very nice point, and not less important than difficult ; for, if you put it to bake a moment too soon, you fail to realize all the good which your labor has entitled you to ; while, if you permit it to pass the point of perfect lightness, you lose the best results of your toil.
"Here, Alice, read what Miss Beecher says upon the subject of bread, in the 'American Woman's Home.'"
" The true housewife makes her bread the sovereign of her kitchen — its behests must be attended to in all critical points and moments, no matter what else be postponed. She who attends to her bread only when she has done this, and arranged that, and performed the other, very often finds that the forces of nature will not wait for her. The snowy mass perfectly mixed.
kneaded with care and strength, rises in its beautiful perfection till the moment comes for fixing the air-cells by baking. A few moments now, and the acetous fermentation will begin, and the whole result be spoiled. Many bread-makers pass in utter carelessness over this sacred and mysterious boundary. Their oven has cake in it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to some other of the so-called higher branches of cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready to attend to it, they lind that it has been going its own way ; it is so sour that the pungent smell is plainly perceptible. Now, the saleratus-bottle is hauled down and a quantity of the dissolved alkali is mixed with the paste, — an expedient sometimes making itself too manifest by greenish streaks and small acrid spots in the bread. As the result, we have a beautiful article spoiled, — bread without sweetness, if not absolutely sour.