A is for Bread.

One of my many, many, many, projects is the collection of recipes for bread of all types. I recently found myself arranging them in alphabetical order. Please don’t ask me why. Please. The letters Q and Z are problematic, but in I am hopeful of completing my alphabetical series one day. I promise to book in for therapy soon. In the meanwhile, I thought perhaps that you would like to share - so, from the beginning of my list I give you my two favourites from the letter A.


To Make Acorn Bread.
Take a quantity of acorns, fully ripe, deprive them of their covers and beat them into a paste, let them lay in water for a night, then press it from them, which deprives them of their astringency. Then dry and powder the mass for use. When wanted, knead it up into a dough, with water, and roll it out into thin cakes, which are to be baked over the embers.
Bread made after this method is by no means disagreeable, and was much used in former times; and even to this day, it is said to be made use of in some countries.
A Treatise on the Art of Breadmaking, 1805

My second choice is the intriguingly named ‘Anadama Bread.’ There are a number of explanations of the semi-mythological variety of this name – all variations of the idea of a disgruntled man referring to his wife as ‘Anna, Damn Her’, on account of some dissatisfaction with the bread (or cornmeal porridge) that she provided all too often for his daily meal. I have no idea how old the name is, but it appears that it was ‘Ammy-Dammy’ before it was Anadama. There are plenty of recipes from the second decade of the twentieth century, but as written recipes usually appear long after the real thing, it surely goes back at least to the end of the nineteenth century. Please do let us all know if you have any further knowledge.

Today’s recipe for Ammy-Dammy Bread comes from The Syracuse Herald of November 25, 1933, but is said to have been ‘taken from an old kitchen scrapbook of a real Marbleheader.’

Ammy-Dammy Bread.
One-half cup of yellow cornmeal, one-half cup of molasses, one tablespoon of lard, one teaspoon of salt, and two cups of boiling water. After the mixture has become lukewarm, add one yeast cake dissolved in a half-cup of water. Now, mix in sufficient bread flour – in Colonial days this flour was the home-milled product – to make a stiff dough. Let it rise overnight. In the morning stir down and divide into four baking pans. Again it should be allowed to rise, and then into the oven for 45 minutes baking.
Well, that’s your Ammy-Dammy bread!
And was there ever such a crust?

Quotation for the Day.

I would say to housewives, be not daunted by one failure, nor by twenty. Resolve that you will have good bread, and never cease striving after this result till you have effected it. If persons without brains can accomplish this, why cannot you?
Housekeeping In Old Virginia' Marion Cabell Tyree ed. (1878)

Damper, Episode 2.

Yesterday's promised post is postponed, for two reasons: after two weeks of redecorating, both my home and my wits are in disarray, and I have no idea what I was going to write about, and secondly because my thoughts on Aussie damper yesterday provoked some flak from my sister and from one of my best friends. Here is the correspondence. You haven't heard the last of this, I can tell you.

From my Little Sister, Val:
Well big sis, what can I say. Aussies DO eat damper! Our variety when camping is to make up the damper dough & mould it around a stick & toast it just like you do with marshmallows. Yummy. Then you dunk your damper kebabs in bush honey (or golden syrup) & eat. A much better variety than in the ashes plus you get to chat companionably around the fire & stare at the flames.
Little Sister

My reply:
Ah! but I bet you have a bit more in your damper than flour and water!
Memo to self: must go on campfire excursion with Little Sister.
Big Sister.

From my friend Marj:
Speaking as one who has savoured the delights of sitting around a campfire at the back of beyond (and other places) with freshly cooked damper from the camp oven among other delicacies, I can tell you, you haven't lived (yet)!
Marj

My reply:
Got a similar email from my sister! I bet your damper was not simply flour and water - bettcha it had some milk or butter or currants. AND it was cooked in a camp oven not directly on the ashes. … [yours] is a "second generation" or "scone-type" damper (Damper for Wusses) Flour and water, that’s what the lady said. Make it more runny and it is glue, make it less runny and it is brick.

Marj’s reply (accompanied by the above photo, taken beside the Jardine River in North Queensland):
‘This is one damper that I admit to adding sultanas to - we enjoyed it while camped beside the Jardine River on Cape York a few years ago.There was none left over to throw to the crocs in the Jardine.
I could not find the photo of another damper that rose beautifully, only to fuse to the lid of the camp oven. I won't bore you with Col's damper story - as a past Queen's Scout he accompanied our boys on a Scout Camp and showed his considerable damper skills to all the eager faces. Unfortunately that damper formed a permanent attachment to the camp oven and had to be removed with an angle grinder! He wasn't asked to demonstrate a second time.
Be a devil - try a damper!"
Love
M
PS the brush in the background is for brushing of the ashes/coals BEFORE the lid is removed! The wine and XXXX act as suitable lubricant.

[For those of you over the various Ponds – the XXXX refers to ‘Fourex’, a well-known Queensland beer brand.]

To reinforce the ‘real’ recipe, here is a more detailed description of the method from Brisbane the Progressive! An Account of the Colony, its Soil, Climate, Productions and Capabilities. J.C. White, 1870.

Damper, or Bush Bread.
Cut a piece of bark off a gum tree for a kneading trough about 2 feet square.
Put on it 2 or 3 pannikins of flour – one pannikin is about 1 ob. – add a small tsp of salt to every 1 lb. of flour, gradually pour water into the centre and work it till it becomes a thick paste. The secret of a good damper depends on the thorough working of this paste. Shape it into a round flat cake about 2 inches thick – it will be ready for cooking.
Your fire should be prepared some time before so that you may have a large quantity of ashes. Rake out the ashes with a forked stick, level the ashes on the ground, which should be about 2 or 3 inches thick, rub your cake over with a little loose flour to prevent it sticking, and carefully place it on the ashes. Cover it all over with hot ashes about 2 or 3 inches deep. It will be baked in 30 or 40 minutes, according to size.
You can tell when it is done by uncovering it and striking with your fingernails: if not done the sound is dull and dead; or stick your knife in,and if it draws out clean it is done.
Knock off all the ashes with a green bough, stand it up to cool, and it is fit for use.

Please, Little Sister and Marj, send us your methods for comparison.

Monday’s Story …

Back to the Bumboo.

Quotation for the Day …

Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia. Charles M. Schulz