The first step in bread making, as in cookery, is to get together every thing necessary in utensils and ma terials. The utensils we need ,are a bread pan with a close-fitting, ven tilated cover, a measuring cup, a wire spoon for beating the batter, a slitted wooden spoon to stir with, and a molding cloth. The molding cloth is a square yard of heavy duck or sail cloth; it is much superior to the smooth surface of a wooden molding board, because considerable flour can be sifted into the rough surface of the fabric. It holds the flour and there is no sticking of soft dough. As the flour works into the dough, sift in more, rubbing it into the cloth with your hand. When you have finished work, shake it, fold the cloth, and lay it away until needed again. It can be used a number of times before being washed; when it has to go to the laundry, soak it for an hour in cold water, and rinse sev eral times before putting in the suds; hot water would turn the flour into dough; then it would be no easy task to get it clean.
Sift into a pan four or five quarts of flour, and set it either over the register or in a moderate oven to warm, unless you are working in midsummer. Cold flour will always retard the raising of bread. Scald one pint of milk and pour it into the bread pan over two teaspoonfuls of salt. Add a pint of cold water, then one yeast cake dissolved in half a. cupful of lukewarm water. To this liquid add seven or eight cupfuls of warm flour, and beat the batter thor oughly with a wire spoon. Do not stop beating until the batter is a mass of bubbles. Then take the slit ted spoon and begin adding more flour till you have a soft dough. When it becomes too stiff to stir, dust plenty of fiour into the molding cloth, rubbing it into the fabric till it will hold no more. Gather the dough into a ball and drop it on the cloth. Now begin to knead, folding the edge of the dough farthest from you toward the center, pressing it away with the palms, gently yet quickly. The process of kneading has more to do with good bread than almost anything else. In a cooking school I have seen pieces of the same dough, raised in the same tempera ture, baked in the same oven, yield two entirely different qualities of bread. One loaf was molded by an energetic, strong-muscled girl whose kneading was so strenuous that all the life had been banged out of it. The other loaf was kneaded by a girl whose every movement was grace; she used her hands deftly, lightly, and briskly. Her bread was as fine as bread could be made, a spongy, delicious, well-shaped loaf. So re member that it is not brute force that tells in kneading; it is steady, light, springy, dexterous movements, which distribute the yeast plant evenly through the dough and inclose all the air it is possible to get. As you work you can see how the air is doing its duty, for the dough be comes full of little bubbles and blis ters. When it is smooth as satin, elastic, does not stick, and is so spongy that it rises quickly after denting it with your finger, it is ready to set to rise. Wash the bread pan and grease it well, even inside the lid; this makes the dough slip out clean after the next raising. Put on the cover and set the pan in a warm place. When it has doubled in bulk, drop it again on the floured molding cloth, and shape into loaves.
As soon as the dough has doubled in bulk, turn it out on a slightly floured molding cloth and knead into loaves. This second kneading is a slight one, only enough to prepare it for the pans and get rid of any large air bubbles which, if left in, would mean holes in the bread. Have the pans greased, using butter brush which penetrates to every corner. Always rnake small loaves; generally the right size can be guessed at by having each pan half full of dough.
I like bread baked in the French or round bread pans. The crust of it is exceedingly good, the loaf cuts into neat slices, not a bit of the bread be ing wasted, and it bakes to a nicety without any danger of burning. In rectangular pans the dough in the corner does not have room to fully expand. When large brick-shaped loaves are made, it is almost impossi ble to bake them to the heart unless the crust gets very thick and hard. If heat does not penetrate to the center of a loaf, yeast may remain alive, and when it ferments in the stomach there is good cause for serious in digestion.
After the bread is in the pans we have to find a place for it to rise. In the summer I set it in the win dow, which, of course, is closed, for a draught on rising bread hurts it. During the winter the bread goes on a shelf close to the kitchen chimney, behind the stove. The shelf is cov ered with white oilcloth and just wide enough for four pans. When set to rise, the loaves are covered with cloths made from old table linen. These are kept laundered and never used except on baking days. A question I am often asked is: " How do you know when bread is raised enough to be put in the oven?" This is one of the most im portant points ahout bread making. I might tell you to let it rise for an hour, only time depends so ranch upon temperature. I might suggest that it be allowed to become doubled in bulk, but even that is not a sure test. The only one I ever use is to keep " hefting " it, as a New Eng land cook would say. The loaf will keep on for an hour or so being of quite good weight, then' all of a sud den it feels light. Pop it in a hot oven. Strange as it may seem, a row of pans filled with bread at the same time, which have stood in the same temperature, will seldom "heft " light at the same minute. I have seen half an hour of difference be tween the tirne three or four pans were ready to go in the oven.
Nearly every cookbook gives a dif ferent test for the proper heat of the oven. It ought to register 360°, but as few cooks use a thermometer, you may go by this test: Sprinkle a tea spoonful of flour on the oven bot tom, and if it browns in five minutes the oven is just right for the bread. If it grows chestnut brown in that time, cool the oven or your bread will crust too quickly. When the loaves are in, watch them; if you see one throwing up an *awkward ridge or hump anywhere, you may know that corner of the oven is too hot and the bread is rising faster than it ought to do. Do not let one loaf touch another; the dough will run together if they do. Then when they are pulled apart, there is not only an unsightly loaf, but a heavy streak in. the bread. If the oven is just right, it will begin to brown in fifteen min utes; it will not rise farther. Then cool the oven slightly; if you are us ing a gas stove, turn out one of the burners, and let the baking go on moderately till the bread has been in for an hour. Take out the well browned loaves, turn them imme diately out of the pans, brush over the crust with a buttered brush, and set them to cool on a wire stand. If loaves are set flat, the bottom will become moist; if they are wrapped in a cloth, there is a soft, steamy crust. In summer if the steam is not allowed to evaporate from bread, there is danger of it molding, so it must never be put away until per fectly cool. The best place to store it is in a small, shelved closet of ja panned ware, with a door that closes tight. This is a better and handier receptacle than the wooden tub or stone jar used in some households. Never keep bread in a cellar; it is a horribly unwholesome custom.