Family Bread

Do you have a signature dish in your family? A single dish that encapsulates what your family is and stands for? A dish that tells you, more than anything else, that you are home. That place where you know you belong and that you are being cared for.

When mom stresses, she bakes. Chocolate cake, rusks, tarts and our family’s special bread.

What makes this bread special is the leavening agent – a wild yeast plant that is produced with the assistance of potatoes.

I know this bread has been in our family for a few generations. Exactly how many, I am not sure, but I personally have experienced at least three. My first experience with this method of bread making dates back to my great-grandmother baking bread in a clay oven on the farm – constructed using an empty paraffin or oil drum cut in half to form a dome. The dome was covered with clay to seal in the heat and gives the oven its distinctive shape and appearance.

The lid for the drum was also cut in half to be used as an oven door. Once the bread was placed in the oven, the lid was added and then sealed with clay to ensure the oven is airtight and no heat could escape. On baking day, a fire was made inside the oven and allowed to burn to embers before (most) of the embers were removed and the bread was added. Typically, they baked three or four loaves at a time, and they did so once a week. Once the bread was done, great-grandma added a sheep’s head or two to get the most use of the residual heat. This could take all day, but nobody was in any particular kind of hurry back then. Everyone looked forward to dinner consisting of meat and freshly baked bread. The only other condiments allowed to grace the table were butter and jam, mainly fig preserve. These were also made on the farm.

Much has changed since those days of course, but mom still bakes that bread. As is to be expected, there is no recipe, and everything is made using experience and intuition. If the dough looks a little loose, add a handful of flour; if it is too stiff, add a little lukewarm water.

Mom no longer bakes in that homemade oven, but she’s still using real, rendered lamb’s fat for her bread. How much? I really can’t tell, maybe two tablespoons, but it could also be just one or it could be three. Should the spoons be heaped or level? I don’t know, what do you think?

The process starts the night before baking day. Warm water is poured over some flour and a large potato – peeled and sliced thickly – is added. Mom has used the same little pot for making her potato-sourdough (aartappelsuurdeeg) for as long as I remember. This pot is perhaps older than I am and is used for nothing but sourdough. The pot is covered with a lid and then wrapped in a warm blanket and left overnight to allow the starter to become active. This process is called ‘in-suur’.

If by morning the sourdough starter is not active enough, more flour is added, and the pot may be transferred to the warmer drawer of the oven. Unfortunately, most modern ovens do not have this feature anymore. But the key point is that the starter needs a little more heat, so the lowest setting could help. But the temperature must be low or else it will kill the yeast. This process is called ‘oor in-suur’.

If the starter is active enough and has risen to the required level in the little black pot (only the experienced eye can tell exactly where that level is) the sliced potatoes are removed, and the starter is added to the flour. Then the soft sheep’s fat is added, along with salt and water and once everything is well combined, the dough is ready to be kneaded. To keep the dough from sticking to your hands initially, use a little more sheep’s fat. Keep kneading until the dough is soft and springs back when pushed with a fingertip.

The baking tins are prepared by wiping them down with more sheep’s fat. The breads are shaped and put in the pan. Egg wash is applied to the top of the bread, and it is baked for around an hour or until done.

The bread is left to cool for a short while inside the tins until it pulls away from the sides. It is then removed and placed on a rack to cool down.

At this point the entire house is getting ready for action. Out come the fresh butter and various spreads. Fig preserve is a must; in my house at least. Plates are set and the bread knife and cutting board are ready to see some action. Difficult as it is, patience is required. If the bread is cut whilst it is still warm, the crust will be ripped off and that is never, ever a good thing. Those more distant relatives who have caught wind that it is baking day, will start to arrive looking for a morsel to eat and a few slices to take home.

Then the most glorious of moments arrive. The bread is cut, and the eating can begin. There is always a hustle for the crust and only a very precise division among all parties present prevents the family from splitting apart.

The bread is dense and filling. It freezes well and mom also dries some out in a very slow oven. The bread becomes a savoury rusk to be enjoyed with coffee or even soup.

It is unlikely that these traditional dishes and the unique methods used to make them will survive another generation or two. I simply cannot see how future generations will dedicate an entire day to bread making so I remain everlastingly thankful for the privilege of being able to share bread baking day with family.

• 2 cups lukewarm water

• 1 large peeled potato, cut into

about 8 slices

• 3 teaspoons sugar

• 1 cup flour

(white or brown bread flour)

• 1⁄2 teaspoon salt

• 1 kilogram brown bread flour

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 2 tablespoons sheep’s fat

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