Bread is the test.
Anyone can stew — the hard things go in first, the soft things last, salt at the end. A stew forgives you. Bread does not. The dough knows when you’re distracted. It knows when you’re rushing it. It holds that against you for the full three hours it sits in the pot, and it will show you the result when you turn it out.
I have kept dough alive for forty years. I have done other things for forty years as well. The dough was the harder discipline of the two.
This is a steamed rye loaf. It doesn’t rise the way wheat rises. It is dense and dark and it keeps. You can march with it. At the end of the march, it will still be bread. I cannot say that for most things.
Steamed Rye Bread
1 loaf. Feeds 4 people for two days, or two people for longer than that.
- 1 cup rye flour
- 1 cup fine cornmeal
- 1 cup whole wheat flour
- ¾ teaspoon baking soda
- 1 teaspoon salt
- ¾ cup unsulfured molasses
- 1¾ cups buttermilk
Mix the dry together first. Add the molasses, then the buttermilk. Stir until combined — do not overwork it. These are not kneading hands. These hands stop when the thing is mixed.
Grease your mold. Fill it no more than two-thirds. Seal the top with cloth tied firm, or foil. Set it in simmering water — water halfway up the sides — and leave it for three and a half hours. You will need to add water as it goes. Plan for this.
Turn it out. Let it cool before you cut it. A hot loaf cut too early wastes the loaf — the steam inside is still finishing its work. Press the top with two fingers. It should push back firm, not soft. The hands know before the eyes do.
Slice thick.