Importance of good bread--Diet proper for mankind--Proofs that a mixed diet is the best--Advantages of taking a portion of animal food--Flour--Bread--Making yeast--Hints on the economy of bread making, &c.

THE art of making good bread I consider the most important one in cookery, and shall therefore give it the first place in the "Good Housekeeper." Not that I believe bread to contain the "quintessence of beef, mutton, veal, venison," or that an exclusive vegetable diet is best for mankind.

There has been of late years, much said and written respecting the benefits of adhering to a strict vegetable diet, and many excellent people are sadly perplexed about their duty in this matter; and whether they ought to give up animal food entirely. As I profess to make my book a manual for those who wish to preserve their health, as well as prepare their food in the most judicious manner, I will here give a brief sketch of the reasons which induce me to recommend a mixed diet, bread, meat, vegetables and fruits, as the best, the only right regimen for the healthy.

It is an established truth in physiology, that man is omnivorous*--that is, constituted to eat almost every kind of food which, separately nourishes other animals. His teeth and stomach are formed to digest and masticate flesh, fish and all farinaceous and vegetable substances--he can eat and digest these even in a raw state, but it is necessary to perfect them for his nourishment in the most healthy manner, that they be prepared by cooking--that is, softened by the use of fire and water.

Some determined advocates of the vegetable system maintain, that the teeth and stomach of the monkey corresponds, in structure very closely with that of man, yet it lives on fruits--therefore, if man followed nature he would live on fruits and vegetables. But though the anatomical likeness between man and monkeys is striking, yet it is not complete; the difference may be and doubtless is precisely that which makes a difference of diet necessary to nourish and develop their dissimilar natures. Those who should live as the monkeys do would most closely resemble them.

Such is the evidence of nature to the suitableness of a mixed diet for the human race. The appointments of the Creator correspond with the structure of man. At the first, indeed, he was limited; "Behold I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat," was the language of God to Adam.

There is no intimation that any other diet was in use for nearly seventeen hundred years. But this vegetable food did not nourish and develop the human faculties. The physical propensities must have had an almost overwhelming dominion, and if the intellectual powers were developed, they must have been made subservient to the basest animal passions, for the whole earth was filled with violence and men were utterly corrupt and wicked. The moral sentiments seem scarcely to have been felt or cultivated at all. And does not the same character, that is, the predominance of the physical over the intellectual and moral, mark even now in a considerable degree, every nation where, either from climate, custom or condition, the mass of the people are compelled to subsist chiefly on vegetable food?

When, after the destruction of the old world, Noah and his family came forth from the ark, and God assured him that, while the earth continued, the race should not be again plunged in such utter ruin, what new agent of human improvement and civilization was brought to the aid of mankind? We are told of none excepting a change in their diet;--the permission or command rather, to Noah to use animal food. "Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you; even as the green herb have I given you all things. But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat."

Such was the Creator's arrangement, when he had determined that the character and condition of his rational creatures should go on improving, till the whole earth should be peopled and all be filled with the knowledge of the Lord.

The first requisite for good bread is that the flour or meal be good. Wheat is always better for being washed; if it be at all injured by smut, it is not fit for food unless it be thoroughly washed. In the country this is easily done.

Put the grain in a clean tub, a bushel at a time; fill the tub with water, and stir the whole up from the bottom, briskly, with your hand, or a stick. Pour off the water and fill it with clean till the water ceases to be colored or dirty. Two or three waters usually are sufficient. Finish the washing quickly as possible, so as not to soak the grain; then spread it thinly on a large, strong sheet, (it is best to keep a coarse unbleached sheet solely for this purpose, if you wash your grain,) laid on clean boards in the sun, or where the sun and air can be freely admitted. Stir the grain with your hand every two or three hours,--it will dry in a day, if the weather be fair.

Fresh ground flour makes the best and sweetest bread. If you live in the vicinity of a mill, never have more than one or two bushels ground into flour at a time.

A bushel of good, clear wheat will make fiftysix pounds of flour, besides the bran and middlings.

If you purchase flour by the barrel or sack, be careful to ascertain that it is good and pure. In Europe flour is often adulterated, that is, mixed with other substances, to swell its bulk and weight. Whiting, ground stones and bones, and plaster of Paris, are the ingredients chiefly used. To be sure, none of these things are absolutely poisonous, but they are injurious, and no one wants them in bread. In our country we think such deceptions are seldom attempted, still it may be well to know how to detect the least bad matter in flour.

A large family will, probably, use a bushel of flour weekly; but we will take the proper quantity for a family of four or five persons.

Take twentyone quarts of flour, put it into a kneading trough or earthen pan which is well glazed, and large enough to hold double the quantity of flour. Make a deep, round hole in the centre of the flour, and pour into it half a pint of brewer's yeast, or the thick sediment from home-brewed beer--the last if good, is to be preferred. In either case the yeast must be mixed with a pint of milk-warm water, and well stirred before it is poured in. Then with a spoon stir into this liquid, gradually, so much of the surrounding flour as will make it like thin batter; sprinkle this over with dry flour, till it is covered entirely. Then cover the trough or pan with a warm cloth, and set it by the fire in winter, and where the sun is shining in summer. This process is called "setting the sponge." The object is to give strength and character to the ferment by communicating the quality of leaven to a small portion of the flour; which will then be easily extended to the whole. Setting sponge is a measure of wise precaution--for if the yeast does not rise and ferment in the middle of the flour it shows that the yeast is not good; the batter can then be removed, without wasting much of the flour, and another sponge set with better yeast.

Let the sponge stand till the batter has swelled and risen so as to form cracks in the covering of flour; then scatter over it two table spoonfuls of fine salt, and begin to form the mass into dough by pouring in, by degrees, as much warm water as is necessary to mix with the flour. Twenty-one quarts of flour will require about four quarts of water. It will be well to prepare rather more; soft water is much the best; it should in summer be warm as new milk; during winter, it ought to be somewhat warmer, as flour is a cold, heavy substance.

Add the water by degrees to the flour, mix them with your hand, till the whole mass is incorporated; it must then be worked most thoroughly, moulded over and over and kneaded with your clenched hands, till it becomes so perfectly smooth and light as well as stiff, that not a particle will adhere to your hands. Remember that you cannot have good bread, light and white, unless you give the dough a thorough kneading.--Then make the dough into a lump in the middle of the trough or pan, and dust it over with flour to prevent its adhering to the vessel. Cover it with a warm cloth, and in the winter the vessel should be placed near the fire. It now undergoes a further fermentation, which is shown by its swelling and rising; this, if the ferment was well formed, will be at its height in an hour--somewhat less in very warm weather. It ought to be taken at its height, before it begins to fall.*

Divide the dough into seven equal portions; mould on your paste-board, and form them into loaves; put these on well floured tin or earthen plates, and place immediately in the oven.

The oven, if a good one and you have good dry wood, will heat sufficiently in an hour. It is best to kindle the fire in it with dry pine, hemlock furze or some quick burning material; then fill it up with faggots or hard wood split fine and dried, sufficient to heat it--let the wood burn down and stir the coals evenly over the bottom of the oven, let them lie till they are like embers; the bricks at the arch and sides will be clear from any color of smoke when the oven is sufficiently hot. Clean and sweep the oven,--throw in a little flour on the bottom,--if it burns black at once, do not put in the bread, but let it stand a few moments and cool.

It is a good rule to put the fire in the oven when the dough is made up--the batter will rise and the former heat in about the same time.

When the loaves are in the oven, it must be closed and kept tight, except you open it for a moment to see how the bread appears. If the oven is properly heated, loaves of the size named, will be done in an hour and a half or two hours. They will weigh four pounds per loaf, or about that--thus giving you twentyeight pounds of bread from twentyone quarts (or pounds) of flour. The weight gained is from the water.

It is the best economy to calculate (or ascertain by experiment) the number of loaves of a certain weight or size, necessary for a week's consumption in your family, and bake accordingly. In the winter season bread may be kept good for a fortnight; still I think it the best rule to bake once every week. Bread should not be eaten at all till it has been baked, at least, one day. When the loaves are done, take them from the oven, and place them on a clean shelf, in a clean, cool pantry. If the crust happen to be scorched, or the bread is too much baked, the loaves, when they are taken out of the oven, may be wrapped in a clean, coarse towel, which has been slightly damped. It is well to keep a light cloth thrown over all the loaves. When a loaf has been cut, it should be kept in a tight box from the air, if you wish to prevent its drying.

*There are three processes in fermentation--the vinous, which makes the dough light and white--the acetous, which turns it sour and rather brown--and the putrefactive, which utterly spoils it.--The only good bread is made by baking the dough when the vinuous fermentation is exactly at its height. As soon as the acetous commences, the dough is injured. It it may be in a measure restored by mixing diluted pearlash or salæratus, and working it thoroughly with every portion of the dough--then baking it quickly.