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.
Difficult however as most women think it is, to have good bread always,
yet there are some women who invariably have excellent bread. I have
known such women. The wife of Thomans Van Winkle, Esq. of the beautiful
valley of Booneton, New Jersey—peace to her ashes!—was deservedly
celebrated throughout the whole circle of her acquaintance for her
excellent bread. Few ever ate at her hospitable board once that did not
desire to enjoy the privilege again. I know not how often it has been my
good fortune to sit at her table; but the times have not been few; and
though long past, and she who presided there has slept for years in her
grave, yet the remembrance of those times and of those hospitalities,
awakens in my bosom a deep and fervent sentiment of gratitude while I
write.
Never at the table of Mrs. Van Winkle did I eat poor bread;—and of my
numerous acquaintances who had sat at her table, I never heard one say
he had eaten poor bread there. Her bread was invariably good. Nay, it
was of such a quality that it was impossible for any one to eat of it,
and not be conscious that he was partaking of bread of extraordinary
excellence.
Mrs. Van Winkle, said I to her one day, while I was feasting on her
delicious bread, tell me truly, is there either a miracle or mystery in
this matter of bread-making, by which you are enabled to have such
excellent bread upon your table at all times, while I rarely ever find
bread equally good at any other table, and at ninety-nine tables in a
hundred, I almost invariably find poor bread? Is it necessarily so? Is
it not possible for people by any means to have good bread uniformly?
“There is no necessity for having poor bread at any time, if those who
make it will give proper care and attention to their business,” replied
Mrs. Van Winkle, confidently. “The truth is,” continued she, “most
people attach very little importance to the quality of their bread; and
therefore they give little care to the preparation of it. If every woman
would see that her flour is sweet and good, that her yeast is fresh and
lively, that her bread trough is kept perfectly clean and sweet, that
her dough is properly mixed and thoroughly kneaded, and kept at a proper
temperature, and at the proper time moulded into the loaf, and put into
the oven, which has been properly heated, and there properly baked, then
good bread would be as common as poor bread now is. But while there is
such perfect carelessness and negligence about the matter, it is not
surprising that bread should be generally poor.”
Mrs. Van Winkle was undoubtedly correct. If anything like the care were
given to bread-making that its real importance demands, a loaf of poor
bread would rarely be met with. Indeed, if the same degree of care were
given to bread-making, that is devoted to the making of cakes and
pastry, we should far more generally be blessed with good bread.
Who does not know, that as soon as girls are old enough to go into
company and to give parties, they begin to notice with great interest
the qualities of the different kinds of cake and pastry which they meet
with; and whenever they find anything very nice, they are exceedingly
curious to learn precisely how it was made. And lest memory should be
treacherous, they will carefully write down the exact rules for mixing
and cooking it;—“so many pounds of flour, so many pounds of butter, so
many pounds of sugar, so many eggs, and spice to your taste—the eggs to
be beaten so and so, the whole mixed so and so, and baked so many
minutes,” &c. &c. And thus with great care and industry they collect and
write down, in a book which they keep for the purpose, all the recipes
they can get hold of, for making every kind of cake and pastry used in
society. And when they are preparing for company, they rarely if ever
order Dinah or any other domestic to make their nice cake. They do not
regard it as a menial office, but as a highly genteel employment; and
their great desire to have their cake and pastry as good as it can be
made, prompts them to undertake the manufacture of it themselves. And
during this operation, the scales, the measures, the clock or watch, all
are brought into requisition; the Recipe Book is placed upon the table
before them, and carefully consulted; and everything is done with the
utmost precision, and exactitude, and vigilance. And if the young lady
feels any misgiving as to her own judgment, or taste, or experience, she
earnestly inquires of Ma, or some one else who she thinks is capable of
giving her advice in so important a matter.
If in the midst of this employment some one knocks or rings at the door,
and a young gentleman is announced, she is not at all embarrassed, but
perhaps hastens to the parlor with her delicate hands covered with
dough, and with an air of complacency and self-satisfaction, says—“Good
morning, Frank—how do you do? I am just engaged in making some cake—I
hope you will excuse me for a few moments.”
All this shows that she regards the quality of her cake as of very great
importance, and considers it not only perfectly respectable but highly
_genteel_, for a young lady to be employed in making cake. But in regard
to bread and bread-making, everything is very different; there is none
of this early curiosity to learn how to make good bread. Young ladies do
not on every occasion when they find excellent bread, carefully and
minutely inquire how it was made, baked, &c., and write down the
recipe;—but when a batch of bread is to be made for the family, they
either leave it for Mother or some domestic to make, or go about it
themselves as some irksome and disreputable piece of drudgery; and
consequently they turn the task off their hands with as much despatch
and as little trouble as possible. If all things happen to be as they
should be, it is well; if not, they must answer for the present. If the
yeast happens to be lively and sweet, very lucky. If otherwise, still it
must be used. If the dough rises well and is got into the oven before it
becomes sour, very fortunate; if not, why, “nobody can avoid
mistakes—and bread will sometimes be poor in spite of the greatest
care;”—and if a batch of miserable bread is the result of such an
operation, then all that remains to be done is to eat it up as soon as
possible, and hope for better the next time.
If Frank or Charles or Edward should call while the young lady is
engaged in making bread, she is perhaps quite disconcerted, and would
not for the world have him know what she is doing;—she sends word to
him, either that she is out, or that she is particularly engaged, and
begs he will excuse her;—or if by any means she happens unexpectedly to
be caught at her employment, she is greatly embarrassed, and makes the
best apology she can for being engaged in such menial services.
As a matter of course, while such are the views and feelings entertained
on this subject, and while such is the manner in which this duty is
performed, it will ever be a mere accident if good bread is made; and a
mere accident if such girls ever become good bread-makers when they are
wives and mothers.
But if parents, and especially mothers, could view this matter in its
true light, how differently would they educate their children. They
would then feel that, grateful as it is to a mother’s heart to see her
daughters highly refined and elegantly accomplished, and able to “make
the instrument discourse most eloquent music,” and to transfer living
nature, with all its truth and beauty and sublimity, to the canvass,
still the art of bread-making, when considered in all its relations and
intimate connections with human health, and prosperity, and virtue, and
happiness, and with reference to the natural responsibilities and duties
of woman, is actually one of the highest and noblest accomplishments
that can adorn the female character. And then, too, would they consider
it of exceedingly great importance, that their daughters should possess
this accomplishment, even though they may never be in circumstances
which will require the exercise of it.
Some eight or nine years since, I spent several months in the delightful
village of Belvidere, on the banks of the Delaware, in Pennsylvania.
While there, I enjoyed for a number of weeks the kind hospitality of S―
S―, Esq., a lawyer, and a gentleman of great moral excellence. Mrs. S.
was born and brought up, I believe, in Philadelphia. Her father was a
man of wealth, and she was the only daughter, and—almost as a matter of
course—was indulged in all that she desired. But there were so many of
the elements of a good wife and mother in her natural composition, that
as soon as she entered into those interesting and important relations,
she began to devote herself to the duties of them with a sincerity and
conscientiousness which could not fail of success. Surrounded as she
was, with wealth, and every comfort and convenience of life, and all of
its luxuries that she desired, still she was industrious in her habits,
and vigilantly attentive to all the concerns of her household. She
usually kept three female domestics, who, by her kind maternal
deportment towards them, were warmly attached to her. She had no
difficulty in procuring nor in keeping help, because she always treated
them in such a manner that they loved to stay with her; and she took
much pains to qualify them for the proper discharge of their duties.
They evidently loved her, and were sincerely desirous of performing all
their services in such a manner as would be pleasing to her. Yet with
all these advantages to justify her leaving such a duty to her
domestics, Mrs. S. invariably made the family bread with her own hands.
Regularly as the baking day came, she went into her kitchen and took her
stand beside the bread trough, and mixed and kneaded the dough, and put
it in its proper place for rising, and, in due time, moulded it into the
loaf and baked it.
Do you always make your bread, madam? I inquired one day, as she
returned from the performance of that task. “Invariably,” she replied:
“that is a duty I trust no other person to do for me.”
But cannot your domestics make good bread? I asked. “I have excellent
domestics,” answered Mrs. S., “and they can, perhaps, make as good bread
as I can; for they have been with me several years, and I have taken
pains to learn them how to do my work; and they are exceedingly faithful
and affectionate, and are always willing to do all they can to please
me; but they cannot feel for my husband and my children as I do, and
therefore they cannot feel that interest which I do, in always having
such bread as my husband and my children will love and enjoy. Besides,
if it were certain their care and vigilance and success in bread-making
would be always equal to mine, yet it is wholly uncertain how long they
will remain with me. Various circumstances may take place, which may
cause them to leave me, and bring me into dependence upon those who know
not how to make good bread; and therefore I choose to keep my own hand
in. But, apart from all other considerations, there is a pleasure
resulting from the performance of this duty, which richly rewards me for
all the labor of it. When my bread is made and brought upon the table,
and I see my husband and children eat it and enjoy it, and hear them
speak of its excellence, it affords me much satisfaction, and I am glad
to know that I have contributed so much to their health and happiness;
for, while my bread is so good that they prefer it to anything else upon
the table, there is little danger of their indulging, to any injurious
extent, in those articles of food which are less favorable to their
health.”
I need not say that this lady invariably had excellent bread upon her
table. But instances of this kind are, I regret to say, extremely rare,
even in christian communities; and therefore when such cases are known,
they ought to be held up as most noble examples of female virtue, and
receive such high commendations as their intrinsic merit deserves, and
such as will be calculated to beget in the minds of others an exalted
sense of the dignity and importance of such duties, and prompt every
wife and mother to the intelligent and affectionate performance of them.
For it should ever be remembered that, though our children, while they
depend on us for protection, are also properly the subjects of our
government, yet as soon as they are capable of appreciating our
authority and our influence, they are, like ourselves, moral agents, and
ought, in all respects, to be governed and nurtured as such; and
therefore it is not enough that we can give them such bread as we think
best for them, and _compel_ them to eat it; but the grand point at which
the mother should always aim, in this matter, is, to place before her
children such bread as is the very best for them, and at the same time,
to make it the most agreeable to them, and thereby make their duty and
their enjoyment perfectly coincide.
Let no one therefore say she cannot always have good bread, until she
can truly affirm that she has fairly made the experiment; that she has,
in view of all its relations and bearings, accurately estimated the
importance of the quality of her bread in regard to the welfare of her
household, and, with a proper sense of her responsibilities as a wife
and mother, has _at all times_ felt that interest and exercised that
care and attention which so important a duty demands, and without which
it must ever be a mere accident whether her bread is good or bad.
They that will have good bread, not only for a single time, but
uniformly, must make the quality of their bread of sufficient
importance, in their estimation and feelings, to secure the requisite
attention to the means by which alone such an end can be made certain.
They must not suffer themselves, through carelessness, to get entirely
out of bread unexpectedly, and thus be obliged, without due preparation,
to make up a batch of such materials as they may happen to have at hand,
and bake it in haste, and hurry it to the table. But they must exercise
providence and foresight: they must know, beforehand, when their supply
of bread will probably be out, and when they will need to make another
batch; and they must see beforehand that measures are taken to secure a
proper supply of all the requisite materials—see that they are furnished
with good meal or flour; and they must be sure to have the best of yeast
or leaven, when they need it—and when the time comes for them to make
their bread, if by any means the yeast should not be good, let them
throw it away and make good, before they proceed to make their bread;
for it is infinitely better that the family should even do without bread
one day, and eat roasted potatoes, than that they should eat poor bread
three or four days; and if, from any cause, the bread should be poor, it
is incomparably better to throw it away, than to set it upon the table,
to disgust the whole family with bread, and drive them to make most of
their meal on something else.
If a lady can ever find a good excuse for having poor bread, she
certainly can find none, except perhaps extreme poverty, for setting her
poor bread on the table the second time. Yet, too generally, women seem
to think that, as a matter of course, if they, by carelessness or any
other means, have been so unlucky as to make a batch of poor bread,
their family and friends must share their misfortune, and help them eat
it up; and, by this means, many a child has had its health seriously
impaired, and its constitution injured, and perhaps its moral character
ruined—by being driven, in early life, into pernicious dietetic habits.
It was observed many years ago, by one of the most eminent and extensive
practitioners in New England, that, during a practice of medicine for
thirty years, he had always remarked that, in those families where the
children were most afflicted with worms, he invariably found poor bread;
and that, as a general fact, the converse of this was true; that is, in
those families where they uniformly had heavy, sour, ill-baked bread, he
generally found that the children were afflicted with worms.
A careful and extensive observation for a few years, would convince
every intelligent mind that there is a far more intimate relation
between the quality of the bread and the moral character of a family,
than is generally supposed.
“Keep that man at least ten paces from you, who eats no bread with his
dinner,” said Lavater, in his “Aphorisms on Man.” This notion appears to
be purely whimsical at first glance; but Lavater was a shrewd observer,
and seldom erred in the moral inferences which he drew from the
voluntary habits of mankind; and depend upon it, a serious contemplation
of this apparent whim, discloses a deeper philosophy than is at first
perceived upon the surface.
Whatever may be the cause which turns our children and ourselves away
from the dish of bread, and establishes an habitual disregard for it,
the effect, though not perhaps in every individual instance, yet, as a
general fact, is certainly, in some degree, unfavorable to the physical,
and intellectual, and moral, and religious, and social, and civil and
political interests of man.
Of all the artificially prepared articles of food which come upon our
table, therefore, bread should be that one which, as a general fact, is
uniformly preferred by our children and our household,—that one, the
absence of which they would notice soonest, and feel the most,—that one
which—however they may enjoy for a time the little varieties set before
them—they would be most unwilling to dispense with—and which, if they
were driven to the necessity, they would prefer to any other dish, as a
single article of subsistence.
To effect this state of things, it is obvious that the quality of the
bread must be uniformly excellent; and to secure this, I say again,
there must be a judgment, an experience, a skill, a care, a vigilance,
which can only spring from the sincere affections of a devoted wife and
mother, who accurately perceives and duly appreciates the importance of
these things, and, in the lively exercise of a pure and delicate moral
sense, feels deeply her responsibilities, and is prompted to the
performance of her duties.
Would to God that this were all true of every wife and mother in our
country—in the world!—that the true relations, and interests, and
responsibilities of life were understood and felt by every human being,
and all the duties of life properly and faithfully performed!
VARIETIES OF BREAD.
Rye bread. Indian meal bread. Use of sour milk, or butter-milk. Acids.
Family grinding.
I have thus far spoken almost entirely of wheaten bread, because I
consider that the most wholesome kind of bread for ordinary use—for
“daily bread.” When bread is made of superfine flour, the same general
rules should be observed.