Chapter II: Part 2

Hippocrates, styled the father of medicine, who flourished more than two thousand years ago, and who depended far more on a correct diet and general regimen, both for the prevention and removal of disease, than he did on medicine, particularly commended the unbolted wheat meal bread, “for its salutary effects upon the bowels.” It was a fact well understood by the ancients, that this bread was much more conducive to the general health and vigor of their bodies, and every way better adapted to nourish and sustain them than that made of the fine flour. And accordingly, their wrestlers and others who were trained for great bodily power, “ate only the coarse wheaten bread, to preserve them in their strength of limbs.” The Spartans were famous for this kind of bread; and we learn from Pliny that the Romans, as a nation, at that period of their history when they were the most remarkable for bodily vigor and personal prowess and achievement, knew no other bread for three hundred years. The warlike and powerful nations which overran the Roman Empire, and finally spread over the greater part of Europe, used no other kind of bread than that which was made of the whole substance of the grain; and from the fall of the Roman Empire to the present day, a large proportion of the inhabitants of all Europe and the greater part of Asia, have rarely used any other kind of bread.

“If you set any value on health, and have a mind to preserve nature,”—said Thomas Tryon, student in physic, in his “Way to Health, Long Life and Happiness,” published in London, in the latter part of the fifteenth century,—“you must not separate the finest from the coarsest flour; because that which is fine is naturally of an obstructive and stopping quality; but, on the contrary, the other, which is coarse, is of a cleansing and opening nature, therefore the bread is best which is made of both together. It is more wholesome, easier of digestion, and more strengthening than bread made of the finest flour. It must be confessed, that the nutrimentive quality is contained in the fine flour; yet, in the branny part is contained the opening and digestive quality; and there is as great a necessity for the one as the other, for the support of health: that which is accounted the worst is as good and beneficial to nature as the best; for when the finest flour is separated from the coarsest and branny parts, neither the one nor the other has the true operations of the wheat meal. The eating of fine bread, therefore, is inimical to health, and contrary both to nature and reason; and was at first invented to gratify _wanton_ and _luxurious_ persons, who are ignorant both of themselves, and the true virtue and efficacy of natural things.”

“Baron Steuben has often told me,” says Judge Peters, “that the peculiar healthfulness of the Prussian soldiers, was in a great measure to be attributed to their ammunition bread, made of grain, triturated or ground, but not bolted; which was accounted the most wholesome and nutritious part of their rations.”[C]

“The Dutch sailors, in the days of their naval glory, were supplied with the same kind of bread.”

“During the war between England and France, near the close of the last century,” says Mr. Samuel Prior, a respectable merchant of Salem, New Jersey—“the crops of grain, and particularly wheat, were very small in England, and the supplies from Dantzic, the Netherlands and Sweden being cut off by the French army, and also the usual supplies from America failing, there was a very great scarcity of wheat in England. The British army was then very extensive, and it was exceedingly difficult to procure provisions for it, both at home and abroad—on land and sea. Such was the demand for the foreign army, and such the deficiency of crops at home and supplies from abroad, that serious fears were entertained that the army would suffer, and that the continental enterprise of the British government would be defeated in consequence of the scarcity of provisions; and every prudential measure by which such a disastrous event could be prevented, was carefully considered and proposed. William Pitt was then prime minister of state, and at his instance, government recommended to the people generally throughout Great Britain, to substitute potatoes and rice as far as possible, for bread, in order to save the wheat for the foreign army. This recommendation was promptly complied with by many of the people. But still the scarcity was alarmingly great. In this emergency, parliament passed a law (to take effect for two years) that the army at home should be supplied with bread made of unbolted wheat meal, solely for the purpose of making the wheat go as far as possible, and thus saving as much as they could from the home consumption, for the better supply of the army on the continent.

“Eighty thousand men were quartered in barracks in the counties of Essex and Suffolk. A great many were also quartered throughout the towns, at taverns, in squads of thirty or forty in a place. Throughout the whole of Great Britain, the soldiers were supplied with this coarse bread. It was deposited in the store-rooms with the other provisions of the army; and on the day that it was baked, and at nine o’clock the next morning, was distributed to the soldiers—who were at first exceedingly displeased with the bread, and refused to eat it, often casting it from them with great rage, and violent execrations. But after two or three weeks they began to be much pleased with it, and preferred it to the fine flour bread.

“My father,” continues Mr. P., “whom I have often heard talk these things over, was a miller and a baker, and resided in the county of Essex, on the border joining Suffolk, and near the barracks containing the eighty thousand soldiers. He contracted with government, to supply the eastern district of the county of Essex, with the kind of bread I have mentioned: and he used always to send me with it to the depositories on the day it was baked: and though I was then a youth, I can still very distinctly remember the angry looks and remarks of the soldiers, when they were first supplied with it. Indeed they often threw their loaves at me as I passed along, and accompanied them with a volley of curses. The result of this experiment was, that not only the wheat was made to go much farther, but the health of the soldiers improved so much and so manifestly, in the course of a few months, that it became a matter of common remark among themselves, and of observation and surprise among the officers and physicians of the army. These gentlemen at length came out with confidence and zeal on the subject, and publicly declared that the soldiers were never before so healthy and robust; and that disease of every kind had almost entirely disappeared from the army. The public papers, were for months filled with recommendations of this bread, and the civic physicians almost universally throughout Great Britain, pronounced it far the most healthy bread that could be eaten, and as such, recommended it to all the people, who very extensively followed the advice:—and the coarse wheaten bread was very generally introduced into families—female boarding schools, and indeed all public institutions. The nobility also generally used it; and in fact, in many towns, it was a rare thing to meet with a piece of fine flour bread. The physicians generally asserted that this wheaten bread was the very best thing that could be taken into the human stomach, to promote digestion and peristaltic action; and that it, more than anything else, would assist the stomach in digesting other things which were less easily digested, and therefore they recommend that a portion of it should be eaten at every meal with other food.

“Still, after this extensive experiment had been made with such happy results, and after so general and full a testimony had been given in favor of the coarse wheaten bread, when large supplies of superfine flour came in from America, and the crops at home were abundant, and the act of parliament in relation to the army became extinct, most of the people who had before been accustomed to the use of fine flour bread, now by degrees returned again to their old habits of eating fine bread. Many of the nobility, however, continued to use the coarse bread for a number of years afterwards. General Hanoward, Squire Western, Squire Hanbury and others living near my father’s, continued to use the bread for a long time, and some of them still used it when I left home and came to America, in 1816.”

The testimony of sea captains and old whalemen is equally in favor of wheaten bread. “I have always found,” said a very intelligent sea captain of more than thirty years’ experience, “that the coarser my ship bread, the healthier my crew is.”

A writer in Rees’ Cyclopædia, (article Bread) says—“The inhabitants of Westphalia, who are a hardy and robust people, and capable of enduring the greatest fatigues, are a living testimony to the salutary effects of this sort of bread; and it is remarkable that they are very seldom attacked by acute fevers, and those other diseases which are from bad humors.”

In short, as I have already stated, the bread of a large portion of the laboring class, or peasantry, throughout Europe, Asia and Africa, and the islands of the ocean, whether leavened or unleavened—whether more or less artificially prepared, is made of the whole substance of the grain from which it is manufactured: and no one who is sufficiently enlightened in physiological science to qualify him to judge correctly in this matter, can doubt that bread made in the best manner from unbolted wheat meal, is far better adapted to the anatomical structure and physiological powers of the alimentary organs of man, than bread made of superfine wheat flour; and consequently, the former is far more conducive to the health and vigor and general well-being of man than the latter.

If, therefore, mankind will have raised bread which in every respect most perfectly conforms to the laws of constitution and relation established in their nature, and is most highly conducive to the welfare of their bodies and souls, then must it be well made, well baked, light and sweet bread, which contains all the natural properties of the wheat. And if they will have this bread of the very best, and most wholesome kind, they must, as I have already stated, see that the soil from which their wheat is raised, is of a proper character, and is properly tilled,—that the wheat is plump—full-grown—ripe, and free from rust and other diseases; and then, before it is ground, they must see that it is thoroughly cleansed, not only from chaff, cockles, tares, and such like substances, but also from all smut, and every kind of impurity that may be attached to the skin of the kernel. And let every one be assured that this is a matter which really deserves all the attention and care that I suggest.

If human existence is worth possessing, it is worth preserving; and they who have enjoyed it as some have done, and as all the human family are naturally endowed with the capabilities to enjoy it, certainly will not doubt whether it is worth possessing; nor, if they will properly consider the matter, can they doubt that its preservation is worthy of their most serious and diligent care.

And when they perceive how intimately and closely the character of their bread is connected with the dearest interests of man, they will not be inclined to feel that any reasonable amount of care and labor is too much to be given to secure precisely the right kind of bread.

I repeat, then, that they who would have the very best bread should certainly wash their wheat, and cleanse it thoroughly from all impurities, before they take it to the mill; and when it is properly dried, it should be ground by sharp stones which will cut rather than mash it: and particular care should be taken that it is not ground too fine. Coarsely ground wheat meal, even when the bran is retained, makes decidedly sweeter and more wholesome bread than very finely ground meal. When the meal is ground, it should immediately be spread out to cool before it is put into sacks or casks:—for if it is packed or enclosed in a heated state, it will be far more likely to become sour and musty. And I say again, where families are in circumstances to do wholly as they choose in the matter, it is best to have but little ground at a time; as the freshly ground meal is always the liveliest and sweetest, and makes the most delicious bread.

When the meal is thus prepared and brought home, whether in a barrel or sack, the next thing to be attended to, is, that it be placed and kept in a perfectly clean, and sweet, and well ventilated meal room. It should on no consideration be put into a closet, or pantry, or store-room, which is seldom aired, and more rarely cleansed; and into which all manner of rubbish is thrown; or even where other kinds of provisions are kept. If the meal be put into a pantry or store-room which is confined and dirty, and into which old boots and shoes, and old clothes and pieces of carpet, and other things of this kind, are thrown—or where portions of vegetable or animal substance, whether cooked or uncooked, are habitually or even occasionally put and permitted to remain, it must be expected, as a matter of course, of necessity, that the quality of the meal will be considerably deteriorated by the impurities with which the air of the place will be loaded, and which will be continually generated there.

People generally have but a sorry idea of what constitutes true cleanliness; but they may be assured that they cannot be too deeply impressed with the importance of keeping their meal room as clean and sweet and well aired as possible.

FERMENTATION.

Chemical composition of flour. Yeast—modes of preparing it. Substitutes
for it. Fermentation, and its products. Vinous, acetous and
putrefactive fermentation.

Having procured good wheat, cleansed it thoroughly, and got it properly ground, and placed in the meal room, the next step is to take a portion of the meal and manufacture it into good bread. But in order that this may be done in the most certain and perfect manner, it is important that the properties of the meal and the principles concerned in bread-making should be well understood.

According to the statement of Prof. Thomson, of Edinburgh, one pound of good wheat meal contains ten ounces of farina or starch, three ounces of bran, six drams of gluten and two drams of sugar;—and it is because wheat contains such proportions of these substances that it makes the very best loaf bread. The farina or starch is the principal nourishing property;—the saccharine matter or sugar is also highly nutrient; but in the process of making loaf bread, it serves mainly, by its vinous fermentation, to produce the gas or air by which the dough is raised and the bread made light. The gluten is likewise a very nutrient property, but in loaf bread, it principally serves, by its cohesiveness, like gum elastic, or India rubber, to prevent the gas or air formed by the fermentation of the sugar, from escaping or passing off;—and the gas being thus retained, inflates or puffs up the dough, and makes it porous and light. The bran, with its mucilaginous and other properties, not only adds to the nutritiousness of the bread, but eminently serves to increase its digestibility, and to invigorate the digestive organs, and preserve the general integrity of their functions.

The wheat which is raised in Virginia and the southern states generally, contains a larger proportion of gluten than that which is raised in the western part of the state of New York. Hence bakers are able to make a larger loaf of bread out of a pound of southern flour than they can out of a pound of western flour; and consequently some of them have endeavored to make their customers believe that the southern flour is the most profitable. It certainly _is_ the most profitable for the baker; but it is not the most profitable for the consumer.

The next thing indispensably necessary to the making of good bread, is good lively sweet yeast, or leaven, to produce what is called the panary, or more properly, the vinous fermentation of the saccharine matter, or sugar.

Some bread-makers will do best with one kind of yeast or leaven, and some with another. I have generally found that people do best with those materials to which they have been most accustomed; but I am sorry to find so general a dependence on breweries for yeast. To say nothing of the impure and poisonous substances which brewers employ in the manufacture of beer, and which always affect the quality of their yeast, I am confident that domestic yeast can be made of a far superior quality. However light and good in other respects that bread may be which is made with brewers yeast, I have rarely if ever seen any in which I could not at once detect the disagreeable properties of the yeast.

There are various ways of making domestic yeast. One of the simplest, and perhaps the best, is the following, which was communicated to me by one of the best bread-makers I ever saw:

“Put into one gallon of water a double handful of hops;—boil them fifteen or twenty minutes, then strain off the water while it is scalding hot;—stir in wheat flour or meal till it becomes a thick batter, so that it will hardly pour;—let it stand till it becomes about blood warm, then add a pint of good lively yeast, and stir it well; and then let it stand in a place where it will be kept at a temperature of about 70° F. till it becomes perfectly light, whether more or less time is required; and then it is fit for use;—or if it is desired to keep a portion of it, let it stand several hours and become cool; and then put it into a clean jug and cork it tight, and place it in the cellar where it will keep cool; and it may be preserved good, ten or twelve days, and even longer.”

Another way by which yeast when thus made may be preserved much longer, and perhaps more conveniently, is, to take it when it has become perfectly light, and stir in good Indian meal until it becomes a hard dough: then take this dough and make it into small thin cakes, and dry them perfectly, without baking or cooking them at all. These cakes, if kept perfectly dry, will be good for several weeks and even months.

When yeast is needed, take some of these cakes (more or less according to the quantity of bread desired) and break them fine and dissolve them in warm water, and then stir in some wheat flour till a batter is formed, which should be kept at a temperature of about 60° F. till the yeast becomes light and lively, and fitted for making bread.

Others, in making this yeast, originally put into the water with the hops, a double handful of good clean wheat bran, and boil them up together and strain off the water as above described: others again, boil up a quantity of wheat bran without the hops, and make their yeast in all other respects as above described.

The milk yeast is greatly preferred by many; and when it is well managed, it certainly makes very handsome bread. The way of making it is simple. Take a quart of milk fresh from the cow, (more or less according to the quantity of bread desired,)—a little salt is generally added, and some add about half a pint of water blood warm, but this is not essential;—then stir wheat flour or meal into the milk till it forms a moderately thick batter; and then cover it over, and place it where it will remain at a temperature of from 60° to 70° F. till it becomes perfectly light. It should then be used immediately: and let it be remembered that dough made with this yeast will sour sooner than that made with other yeast; and also that the bread after it is baked will become extremely dry and _crumbly_ much sooner than bread made with other yeast. Yet this bread, when a day old, is exceedingly light and beautiful: albeit some dislike the animal smell and taste which it derives from the milk.

In all these preparations of yeast and dough, it should ever be recollected that “the process of fermentation cannot go on when the temperature is below 30° F., that it proceeds quite slowly at 50°, moderately at 60°, rapidly at 70°, and very rapidly at 80°.”

If, therefore, it is desired to have the yeast or dough stand several hours before it is used or baked, it should be kept at a temperature of about 50°. But in the ordinary way of making bread, a temperature varying from 60° to 70°, or about summer heat, is perhaps as near right as it can well be made.

Prof. Thomson gives the following directions for making yeast in large quantities:—“Add ten pounds of flour to two gallons of boiling water;—stir it well into a paste, let this mixture stand for seven hours, and then add about a quart of good yeast. In about six or eight hours, this mixture, if kept in a warm place, will have fermented and produced as much yeast as will make 120 quartern loaves” (of 4 lbs. each.)

A much smaller quantity can be made by observing due proportions of the ingredients.

To raise bread in a very short time without yeast, Prof. Thomson gives the following recipe:

“Dissolve in water 2 ounces, 5 drams and 45 grains of common crystallized carbonate of soda, and mix the solution well with your dough, and then add 7 ounces, 2 drams and 22 grains of muriatic acid of the specific gravity of 1,121, and knead it as rapidly as possible with your dough;—it will rise immediately—fully as much, if not more than dough mixed with yeast—and when baked, will be a very light and excellent bread.” Smaller quantities would be required for small batches of bread.

A tea-spoonful or more (according to the quantity of dough or batter) of super-carbonate of soda dissolved in water, and flour stirred in till it becomes a batter, and then an equal quantity of tartaric acid dissolved and stirred in thoroughly, will in a few minutes make very light batter for griddle or pancakes; or if it be mixed into a thick dough, it will make light bread.

Good lively yeast, however, makes better bread than these alkalies and acids: howbeit these are very convenient in emergencies, when bread or cakes must be prepared in a very short time; or when the yeast has proved inefficient.

We see then that wheat meal consists of certain proportions of starch, gluten, sugar, bran, &c.; and that in making loaf bread, we add yeast or leaven, in order to produce that kind of fermentation peculiar to saccharine matter or sugar, which is called vinous, and by which the gas or air is formed that raises the dough. But the sugar is an incorporate part of every particle of the meal, and is therefore equally diffused throughout the whole mass; and hence if we would make the very best loaf bread, the fermentive principle or yeast must also be equally diffused throughout the whole mass, so that a suitable portion of yeast will be brought to act at the same time on every particle of saccharine matter in the mass.

But let us endeavor to understand this process of fermentation. To speak in the language of chemistry, sugar is composed of certain proportions of carbon, oxygen and hydrogen. The yeast, acting on the sugar, overcomes those affinities by which these substances are held in the constitutional arrangement of sugar, and the process of decay or decomposition of the sugar takes place, which is called vinous fermentation. By this process of decay, two other forms of matter are produced, of an essentially different nature from each other and from the sugar. One of them is called carbonic acid gas or air, being formed by a chemical combination of certain proportions of carbon and oxygen. The other is known by the name of alcohol, and consists of a chemical combination of certain proportions of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen. Carbonic acid gas is also produced by animal respiration or breathing, by the combustion of wood, coal, &c. &c. and in other ways of nature and of art: but neither in nature nor in art is there any known way by which alcohol can be produced, except by that process of the decay or destruction of sugar called vinous fermentation.

The carbonic acid gas, produced in the manner I have stated, is the air which inflates or puffs up and swells out the bread, when there is sufficient gluten or other cohesive matter in the dough to prevent its escape.

If the dough be permitted to stand too long in a warm place, the fermentation, having destroyed most or all of the sugar, will begin to act on the starch and mucilage, and destroy their nature, and produce vinegar; and therefore this stage of it is called the acetous fermentation: and if it still be permitted to go on, it will next commence its work of destruction on the gluten; and this is called the putrefactive fermentation, because it in many respects resembles the putrefaction of animal matter.

The vinous fermentation, therefore, by which the dough is raised and made light, may be carried to all necessary extent, and still be limited in its action to the saccharine matter or sugar—leaving the starch and gluten, and other properties of the meal, uninjured; and this is the point at which the fermentation should be arrested by the heat that bakes the dough. If it be permitted to go beyond the sugar, and act on the mucilage and starch, and produce acidity, the excellence of the bread is in some degree irreparably destroyed. The acid may be neutralized by pearlash or soda, so that the bread shall not be sour; but still, something of the natural flavor of the bread is gone, and it is not possible by any earthly means to restore it; and this injury will always be in proportion to the extent to which the process of the acetous fermentation is permitted to go in destroying the nature of the starch, and the bread will be proportionably destitute of that natural sweetness and delicious richness essential to good bread. Yet it is almost universally true, both in public and domestic bread-making, that the acetous fermentation is allowed to take place; and saleratus, or soda, or some other chemical agent is employed to neutralize the acid. By this means we may have bread free from acidity, it is true, but it is also destitute of the best and most delicious properties of good bread; and generally, by the time it is twenty-four hours old—and this is particularly true of bakers’ bread—it is as dry and tasteless and unsavory as if it were made of plaster of Paris.

Many bread-makers mix their saleratus or soda with their yeast, or introduce it when they mix their dough, so that if the acetous fermentation does take place, the acid is neutralized by the alkali, and therefore, not being perceived, it is supposed never to have existed, and the bread is called sweet and good; especially if a small quantity of molasses be employed in making the dough. Others far more wisely withhold their alkali till the dough is raised enough to mould into the loaf, and then if it is found to be in any degree acid, a solution of saleratus or soda is worked into it, so as just to neutralize the acid, and no more. This is infinitely better that no have sour bread, which, after all, is almost everywhere met with; yet the very best bread that can be made in this way is only second best. Happy are they who can make good light and sweet bread, without the use of molasses—without suffering the least degree of acetous fermentation to take place, and without employing saleratus, soda, or any other kind of alkali.

The third or putrefactive stage of fermentation rarely takes place in domestic bread-making; but it is by no means uncommon in public bakeries. Indeed it is thought necessary in the manufacture of certain kinds of crackers, in order to make them split open, and render them brittle, and cause them readily to become soft when dipped into water. But dyspepsia crackers, and all other kinds of bread made in this way are, to say the least of them, miserable stuff. For besides the fact that all the best qualities of the flour or meal have been destroyed by fermentation, the great quantity of alkali employed in neutralizing the acid, is necessarily injurious to the digestive organs.

PREPARATION OF BREAD.

Mixing. Much kneading necessary. Rising, or fermentation. Use of
alkalies, saleratus and soda. Baking. Ovens. Alcohol in bread.
Preservation of bread.

Now, then, the business of the bread-maker is, to take the wheat meal, prepared in the manner I have stated, and with all the properties I have described, and convert it into good, light, sweet, well-baked bread, with the least possible change in those properties; so that the bread, when done, will present to the senses of smell and taste, all the delicious flavor and delicate sweetness which pure organs perceive in the meal of good new wheat, just taken from the ear and ground, or chewed without grinding; and it should be so baked that it will, as a general statement, require and secure a full exercise of the teeth in mastication.

In order to do this, as we have seen, it is necessary, in the first place, that the wheat should be of the best kind, and well cleansed, and the meal properly prepared. In the next place, it is necessary that the yeast should be fresh, lively and sweet; and in the third place, it is necessary that the dough should be properly mixed, raised and baked.

Take then such a quantity of meal, in a perfectly clean and sweet bread trough, as is necessary for the quantity of bread desired, and having made a hollow in the centre, turn in as much yeast as a judgment matured by sound experience shall deem requisite; then add such a quantity of water, milk and water, or clear milk, as is necessary to form the meal into a dough of proper consistency. Some prefer bread mixed with water alone; others prefer that which is mixed with milk and water; and others think that bread mixed with good milk is much richer and better; while others dislike the animal odor and taste of bread mixed with milk. Perhaps the very best and most wholesome bread is that which is mixed with pure soft water, when such bread is made perfect. But whether water, milk and water, or milk alone is employed, it should be used at a temperature of about blood heat.

Here let it be understood, that the starch of the meal is of such a nature that, by a delicate process peculiar to itself, it becomes changed into sugar or saccharine matter; and when the fluid used in mixing the dough is of a proper temperature, and the dough is properly mixed and kneaded, this process, to some small extent, takes place, and a small portion of the starch is actually converted into sugar, and thereby increases the sweetness of the bread. Let it also be recollected here, that the saccharine matter on which the yeast is to act, is equally diffused throughout the whole mass of the meal; and therefore if the yeast be not properly diffused throughout the whole mass, but is unequally distributed, so that an undue quantity of it remains in one part, while other parts receive little or none, then the fermentation will go on very rapidly in some parts of the mass, and soon run into the acetous state, while in other parts it will proceed very slowly or not at all; and consequently large cavities will be formed in some parts of the dough, while other parts of it will remain as compact and heavy as when first mixed, and sometimes even more so. I need not say that such dough cannot be made into good bread; yet it is probably true, that more than nine tenths of the bread consumed in this country is more or less of this character. Nor, after what I have said, should it seem necessary for me to remark, that good bread cannot be made by merely stirring the meal, and yeast, and water or milk together into a thin dough or sponge, and suffering it to ferment with little or no working or kneading. Bread made in this manner, if it is not full of cavities large enough for a mouse to burrow in, surrounded by parts as solid as lead, is almost invariably full of cells of the size of large peas and grapes; and the substance of the bread has a shining, glutinous appearance; and if the bread is not sour, it is because pearlash or some other kind of alkali has been used to destroy the acid.

The very appearance of such bread is forbidding, and shows, at a glance, that it has not been properly mixed—that the yeast has acted unequally on different portions of the meal, and that the fermentation has not been of the right kind.

But if the yeast be so diffused throughout the whole mass, as that a suitable portion of it will act on each and every particle of the saccharine matter at the same time, and if the dough be of such a consistency and temperature as not to admit of too rapid a fermentation, then each minute portion of saccharine matter throughout the whole mass will, in the process of fermentation, produce its little volume of air, which will form its little cell, about the size of a pin’s head, and smaller; and this will take place so nearly at the same time, in every part of the dough, that the whole will be raised and made as light as a sponge, before the acetous fermentation takes place in any part. And then if it be properly moulded and baked, it will make the most beautiful and delicious bread—perfectly light and sweet, without the use of any alkali, and with all the gluten and nearly all the starch of the meal remaining unchanged by fermentation.

Proper materials, proper care, a due amount of labor, a suitable length of time, and proper temperature, are all, therefore, necessary to the making of good bread.

With your meal, and yeast, and water or milk brought together before you, then, proceed in the light of the instruction you have now received, to mix your dough; and remember that the more thoroughly you knead it, the more equally you diffuse the yeast throughout the whole mass, and bring it to act on every particle of the saccharine matter at the same time, and the whiter, lighter, and more delicious you make your bread.

Who that can look back thirty or forty years to those blessed days of New England’s prosperity and happiness, when our good mothers used to make the family bread, but can well remember how long and how patiently those excellent matrons stood over their bread troughs, kneading and moulding their dough? and who with such recollections cannot also well remember the delicious bread that these mothers used invariably to set before them? There was a natural sweetness and richness in it which made it always desirable; and which we cannot now vividly recollect, without feeling a strong desire to partake again of such bread as our mothers made for us in the days of our childhood.

Let it be borne in mind, then, that without a very thorough kneading of the dough, there can be no just ground of confidence that the bread will be good. “It should be kneaded,” says one of much experience in this matter, “till it becomes flaky.” Indeed I am confident that our loaf bread would be greatly improved in all its qualities, if the dough were for a considerable time subjected to the operations of the machine which the bakers call the break, used in making crackers and sea-bread.

The wheat meal, and especially if it is ground coarsely, swells considerably in the dough, and therefore the dough should not, at first, be made quite so stiff, as that made of superfine flour; and when it is raised, if it is found too soft to mould well, let a little more meal be added.

When the dough has been properly mixed and thoroughly kneaded, cover it over with a clean napkin or towel, and a light woollen blanket kept for the purpose, and place the bread trough where the temperature will be kept at about 60° F., or about summer heat, and there let it remain till the dough becomes light. But as it is impossible to regulate the quantity and quality of your yeast, the moisture and temperature of your dough, and several other conditions and circumstances, so as to secure at all times precisely the same results in the same time, it is therefore necessary that careful attention should be given that the proper moment should be seized to work over and mould the dough into the loaf, and get it into the oven, just at the time when it is as light as it can be made by the vinous fermentation, and before the acetous fermentation commences.

If, however, by any means there should unfortunately be a little acidity in the dough, take a small quantity of saleratus, or, what is better, carbonate of soda, and dissolve it in some warm water, and carefully work in just enough to neutralize the acid. The best bread-makers are so exceedingly careful on this point, that they dip their fingers into the solution of saleratus or soda, and thrust them into the dough in every part, as they work it over, so as to be sure that they get in just enough to neutralize the acid, and not a particle more.

I must here repeat, that they who would have the very best of bread, must always consider it a cause of regret, that there should be any necessity to use alkali; because the acetous fermentation cannot in any degree take place, without commensurately and irremediably impairing the quality of the bread. And here it should be remarked, that dough made of wheat meal will take on the acetous fermentation, or become sour, sooner than that made of fine flour. This is probably owing principally to the mucilage contained in the bran, which runs into the acetous fermentation sooner than starch.

While the dough is rising, preparations should be made for baking it. Some bake their bread in a brick oven, some in a stove, some in a reflector, and some in a baking kettle. In all these ways very good bread may be baked; but the baking kettle is decidedly the most objectionable. Probably there is no better and more certain way of baking bread well than in the use of the brick oven. Good bread-makers, accustomed to brick ovens, can always manage them with a very great degree of certainty; and as a general fact, bread is sweeter, baked in this way, than in any other. Yet, when it is well baked in tin reflectors, it is certainly very fine; and so it is also when well baked in iron stoves. But the baking of bread requires almost as much care and judgment as any part of the process of bread-making. If the oven is too hot, the bread will burn on the outside before it is done in the centre; if it is too cold, the bread will be heavy, raw and sour. If the heat is much greater from below than from above, the bottom of the loaf will burn before the top is done: or if the heat is much greater from above than from below, the top of the loaf will burn before the bottom is done.

All these points therefore must be carefully attended to; and no small excuse ought to be considered a satisfactory apology for sour, heavy, raw or burnt bread; for it is hardly possible to conceive of an absolute necessity for such results; and the cases are extremely rare in which they are not the offspring of downright and culpable carelessness.

The best bread-makers I have ever known, watch over their bread troughs while their dough is rising, and over their ovens while it is baking, with about as much care and attention as a mother watches over the cradle of her sick child.

Dough made of wheat meal requires a hotter oven than that made of fine flour; and it needs to remain in the oven longer. Indeed, it is a general fault of bread of every description, made in this country, that it is not sufficiently baked. Multitudes eat their bread hot and smoking from the oven in a half-cooked state; and very few seem to think there is any impropriety in doing so. But they who would have their bread good, not only a few hours after it comes from the oven, but as long as it can be kept, must see that it is thoroughly baked.

I have said that the process of vinous fermentation converts a portion of the saccharine matter of the meal into carbonic acid gas or air, by which means the dough is raised and made light; and that the same process converts a portion of the saccharine matter into alcohol. The alcohol thus generated is mostly if not entirely driven off by the heat of the oven when the dough is baking;—and in modern times, ovens have been so constructed in England, as to serve the double purpose of ovens and stills; so that while the bread is baking, the alcohol is distilled off and condensed, and saved for the various uses of arts and manufacture.

The question has, however, been frequently started, whether a portion of the alcohol thus generated, is not contained in the bread when it comes from the oven.

This question cannot be answered with entire certainty; but there are some facts in relation to it of considerable importance.

It is perfectly certain that if two portions of wheat meal or flour be taken from the same barrel or sack, and one portion be made into unleavened bread, and the other portion be made into the very best fermented or raised bread, and both be eaten as soon as they are baked, the fermented bread will digest with more difficulty, and oppress and disturb the stomach more than the unleavened bread will. Indeed it is well known and very generally understood, that few of the articles which compose the food of man in civic life, are so trying to the human stomach, and so powerful causes of dyspepsia, as fresh-baked raised bread.

It is now well known also that alcohol wholly resists the action of the solvent fluid of the stomach, and is entirely indigestible; and always retards the digestion of those substances which contain it. How far all this may be true of carbonic acid gas, is not yet ascertained; but it is difficult to account for the difference between leavened and unleavened bread, as above stated, without supposing that the alcohol or carbonic acid gas, or both of them, are in some degree concerned in rendering the leavened bread, when newly baked, peculiarly oppressive and injurious to the stomach.

This, be it remembered, is purely a conjecture of my own; and I am not entirely certain that it is correct; but I see no other way of meeting the difficulty.

Be it as it may, however, it is very certain that when the bread has been drawn from the oven, and permitted to stand in a proper place twenty-four hours, either by evaporation or some other means, it becomes perfectly matured, and so changed in character, that it is, if properly made, one of the most wholesome articles entering into the diet of man; and at that age, there is not the slightest reason to believe that a particle of alcohol remains in the bread.

When therefore the bread is thoroughly baked, let it be taken from the oven and placed on a perfectly clean and sweet shelf, in a perfectly clean and well ventilated pantry. Do not, as you value the character of your bread, put it into a pantry where you set away dishes of cold meat, cold potatoes, and other vegetables, and keep your butter, cheese and various other table provisions—in a pantry which perhaps is seldom thoroughly cleansed with hot water and soap, and where the pure air of heaven seldom if ever has a free circulation. The quality of your bread should be of too much importance to allow of such reprehensible carelessness, not to say sluttishness. And if you will have your bread such as every one ought to desire to have it, you must pay the strictest attention to the cleanliness and sweetness of the place where you keep it.

If in baking, the outer crust should become a little too dry and crispy, you can easily remedy this by throwing a clean bread or table cloth over it for a short time when it first comes from the oven; but if this is not necessary, let the bread stand on an airy shelf, till it becomes perfectly cool, and when it is twenty-four hours old, it is fit for use; and if it is in all respects properly made, and properly kept, it will continue to be sweet and delicious bread for two or even three weeks, except perhaps in very hot and sultry weather.

When we have acquired the art of making such bread as I have described, in the very best manner, then have we carried the art of cooking to the very height of perfection; for it is not only true, that there is no other artificially prepared article in human diet of so much importance as bread, but it is also true that there is no other preparation in the whole round of cooking, which requires so much care, and attention, and experience, and skill, and wisdom.

WHO SHOULD MAKE BREAD.

Making bread by rule. Bakers. Domestics. Sour bread. An anecdote. Mrs.
Van Winkle. Bad bread need not be made. How cake is made. Bread-making
a drudgery. Excellent example of a mother. Eating bad bread.
Importance of having good bread.

Who then shall make our bread? For after all that science in its utmost accuracy can do, in ascertaining principles and in laying down rules, there is little certainty that any one, who undertakes to make bread merely by rule, will be anything like uniformly successful. We may make a batch of bread according to certain rules, and it may prove excellent; and then we may make another batch according to the same rules, which may be very poor. For if we follow our rules ever so closely, there may be some slight differences in the quality or condition of the meal or the yeast, or something else, which will materially alter the character of the bread, if we do not exercise a proper care and judgment, and vary our operations according as the particular circumstances of the case may require.

Correct rules are certainly very valuable; but they can only serve as general way-marks, in the art of bread-making. Uniform success can only be secured by the exercise of that mature judgment which is always able to dictate those extemporaneous measures which every exigency and circumstance may require; and such a judgment can only result from a care and attention and experience which are the offspring of that moral sensibility which duly appreciates the importance of the quality of bread, in relation to the happiness and welfare of those that consume it.

But are we to look for such a sensibility in public bakers? Can we expect that they will feel so lively and so strong an interest for our enjoyment and for our physical and intellectual and moral well-being, that they will exercise all that care and attention and patience, and watch with that untiring vigilance and solicitude in all the progress of their operations, which are indispensably necessary in order to secure us the best of bread?

Or can we reasonably expect to find these qualifications in domestics—in those who serve us for hire? Many a female domestic, it is true, can make much better bread than her mistress can. Many a female domestic has an honest and sincere desire to do her duty faithfully; but can she be actuated by those sensibilities and affections which alone can secure that careful attention, that soundness of judgment, that accuracy of operation, without which the best of bread cannot uniformly, if ever, be produced?

No;—it is the wife, the mother only—she who loves her husband and her children as woman ought to love, and who rightly perceives the relations between the dietetic habits and physical and moral condition of her loved ones, and justly appreciates the importance of good bread to their physical and moral welfare—she alone it is, who will be ever inspired by that cordial and unremitting affection and solicitude which will excite the vigilance, secure the attention, and prompt the action requisite to success, and essential to the attainment of that maturity of judgment and skilfulness of operation, which are the indispensable attributes of a perfect bread-maker. And could wives and mothers fully comprehend the importance of good bread in relation to all the bodily and intellectual and moral interests of their husbands and children, and in relation to the domestic and social and civil welfare of mankind, and to their religious prosperity, both for time and eternity, they would estimate the art and duty of bread-making far, very far more highly than they now do. They would then realize that, as no one can feel so deep and delicate an interest for their husbands’ and children’s happiness as they do, so no one can be so proper a person to prepare for them that portion of their aliment, which requires a degree of care and attention that can only spring from the lively affections and solicitude of a wife and mother.

But it is a common thing to hear women say—“We cannot always have good bread, if we take ever so much pains;—it will sometimes be heavy, and sometimes be sour, and sometimes badly baked, in spite of all our care.”

It may be true that such things will sometimes happen, even with the best of care;—but I believe that there is almost infinitely more poor bread than there is any good excuse for. The truth is, the quality of bread is a matter of too little consideration; and therefore too little care is given to the making of it. Moreover, the sense of taste is so easily vitiated, that we can very easily become reconciled to the most offensive gustatory qualities, and even learn to love them; and it is a very common thing to find families so accustomed to sour bread, that they have no perception of its acid quality.

“It is very strange,” said a lady to me one day at her dinner table, “that some folks always have sour bread, and never know it.” She then went on to name a number of families in the circle of her acquaintance, who, she said, invariably had sour bread upon their tables when she visited them—“and they never,” continued she, “seem to have the least consciousness that their bread is not perfectly sweet and good.”

Yet this very lady, at the very moment she was thus addressing me, had sour bread upon her own table; and although I had for many months been very frequently at her table, I had never found any but sour bread upon it. Still she was wholly unconscious of the fact.