“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.