I do dislike being asked for my bread recipe. In these days of central air telling someone “Well it depends on the weather” doesn’t go over real well.
I remember the summer at my grandparent’s farm when I learned about bread. Grannie believed in open windows, her old wood stove and letting the food teach you. She wrapped me in an apron big enough to cover half her kitchen, planted me on a stool and laid out the ingredients for bread.
She had a kitchen cupboard with built in flour bin and sifter I got to crank. The flour settled gently into a mound below it. She pulled a jar of yeast out of the fridge and grabbed a generous pinch to toss into some water in a coffee cup then smiled at me. “The recipe for bread is called Woofy. Now the water must be sweet and pure, the flour sifted and yeast activated but the oil can be oil, shortening, lard, or butter. It’s only for keeping things slippery so it does not matter much (although car oil won’t work well). The thing to remember is that flour absorbs water from the air so bread needs different amounts depending on the humidity. Don’t worry about that for now, bread is forgiving and will let us know when we have enough for it to work with. Just remember bread grows quicker in hot spells and drinks less in moist weather.”
Once the yeast started foaming like a shaken up root beer she poured it into a big pottery bowl. She grabbed a handful of flour, tossed it in, and I started stirring with the wooden spoon as she kept adding flour until it pulled away from the sides of the bowl. She poured some oil into our hands to play knuckle sandwich with the dough until it lost its stickiness and became a soft ball that sprang back when it was poked. A wet cloth on top and it was set aside to rise.
“Bread needs to rise till it doubles, might be an hour, might be two. Just let it sit there till it doubles.” An hour and a half later we poked it down, waited again for the second rise, then formed loaves and popped them into the oven. Hot heel and butter for supper, what a treat. Woofy bread. Water, oil, optional, flour, and yeast. The optional? Measurements of course. Tastes great, but does not fit on a recipe card easily.
Tsuchur 