Home-Made-Bread

by Robert Blair Craig

There is a Spiritual Song by the Talley Trio simply called, "Home Made Bread."

Mother, (Hannah Jemima Fleming) every week of the year, made home made bread. This was one great things we attribute to the "things of yester-year." This was no easy process but was faithfully done with nearly a religious determination. The baking of bread process (1920-1950) began long before the doe was placed in bread pans and placed in the oven. One of the first things done was the chopping of kindling to start the fire. The coal bucket had to be filled and placed next to the stove. A fire was made, even in the summer, and the old stove began to heat up. It is remarkable that today, when we fist begin to perspire, we are told it is global warming. You want to imagine global warming? Think of mom's kitchen on the day before July 4, 1944! Now that was global warming.

The old stove consisted of four french legs about 10 inches tall that held the fire box up off the wooden floor. The legs were a beautiful thing in their own right. They were curved and gave the entire stove a look of strength and endurance. These legs were all setting in a round flat metal plate to keep them from making dents or holes in the rug or floor. The stove was made of black cast iron and had to be broke down into all its individual pieces when we moved from Kent (Jacksonville), to Dixonville, PA. around 1943. It is hard to imagine anyone moving such a heavy appliance in one piece. I suppose the strength of the floor was a consideration when mom and dad purchased the old Gaskin Home in Dixonville. Of course, the house was built with such things in mind.

Just around the corner from the cooking store was a huge Coal Stove used in the winter to heat the 3 story, 9 room house. What a wonderful feeling to stand by the stove and feel its warmth on one's back. There could be a complete chapter devoted to the heater. Toward the end, a description will be given of replacing the coal heater by the installation of a coal furnace.

Back to the home made bread - There was a curved handle shaped to fit into the little slots in the round metal plates that allowed them to be lifted off the top of the stove. This was where the kindling was placed and a bit of lumps of coal would be placed upon the wood and paper. The fire would be lit and allowed to start the coal to burn. As soon as this occurred there would be more coal placed inside the fire-box and after a time read hot coals would heat the stove, the room and everyone in site. In the winter there were times when the top plates, that completed the flat surface of the cook stove, would glow read hot. As children, Ken (Kenneth Merle Craig)& I didn't need to be told not to touch the hot surface of the stove. How did people manage to exist in years past without all the hype and furor over warning labels, etc., that our present day, politically correct populace, are forced to use and obey?

After some time the heat gage on the oven door would proclaim that there was enough heat to bake bred. Often I would be given a few cents and told to run to Specaks [local grocery store] for yeast. Long before the stove reached the desired heat, the flower would be sieved into a large bowl. Now this alone could make a story. The kitchen cabinet was made with the baking of bread in mind. It stood at least 6 foot tall. It consisted of drawers at the bottom that contained the pots, pans and other utensils used in the process of baking all sorts of things. Pies, cakes, fudge and bread. Just above the doors was a pull-out metal counter. It was just perfect for rolling out doe for noodles, potato pot pie and so many other savory dishes unique to those days years ago. Above the pull-out was a concave and immediately above that area, on the left side, was a metal container that the large sack of flower was pored into and stored. The container on the font had a glass window so one could see how much flower was available. At the bottom of this container was a built in strainer with a handle. All mom needed to do was place the large bowl directly below and turn the handle. The small screen would cive the flower and, walla, she was ready to mix the bread. There was a swinging door for the storage of other utensils. Right next to it was two drawers for similar tools needed for the purpose of baking.

Again, long before the bread doe would be prepared the yeast would be placed in a cup or other container, along with some mashed potato, and let set to ferment [for lack of a better word]. By the way, this is not meant to be a recipe for making bread and anyone thinking so takes the consequences into their own hands. I don't know if the yeast took hours or a day to be ready. All I do know is that when it was determined that it was, the flower would mixed with the solutions, and kneaded into round shapes commensurate with the size of the bread pans that were used.

After covering with cloth the round forms of bread-doe it would be left for a time [?] to rise. When that time span was realized, as a child, I was amazed that they would swell to almost twice the original size. Then a strange thing would be done. Mom would pick each one up and hold it in one hand spanking it with the other. She would explain - this was done to get the air pockets out - making for a slice of bread that had no holes. After spanking (and I knew what the word meant) was completed, the round spheres would be placed into the bread pans, and no, it wasn't ready to be placed in the oven just yet. The, usually 4, bread pans were set side by side and again, allowed to rise. The doe would form into a mushroom appearance. After that was accomplished, and the doe filled the pans, she would take a brush and paint the top of the doe with fresh (real) butter. She would also poke holes in the top with a fork. The bread pans were finally ready to be placed in the hot oven.

After a time, seemed like forever, the bread would be ready to take out of the oven and would be returned to the metal top of the kitchen cabinet. I think, at this point, they were covered again and allowed to cool. Sometimes, when mom allowed, the "heals" of one of the loafs would be sliced off and she would take a butter knife and spread some home-made catchup over the slice and there can be nothing better. . .! Fresh and hot bread. What a smell, and even better to the taste. When it was summer and the tomatoes were ripe there was nothing ever home-made that was better than a tomato sandwich on fresh warm bread!

This is not considered to be a complete or comprehensive description of all the early making of bread. I am sure a complete book could be written on this subject.

About the furnace. After years of use the stove in the living room finally was beyond repair. Years of use had cause the belly, or fire box, of the stove to warp and there were a few holes burnt through allowing smoke and fumes to enter our home. Dad [Robert LeRoy Craig] purchased a huge furnace to be built in the basement. This was a huge area under the house and was likely built in such a way as to provide the perfect place for a furnace. I recall him bring it home on a truck. Uncle Frank [Frank Fleming, mother's brother] was there to help. The worn-out stove was dismantled and moved out of the house. A hole was cut in the floor immediately beneath where the stove had sat. This hole was approximately 4 foot by 4 foot. It had to be large enough to allow the new furnace to be lowered to the floor in the basement. The pieces of this furnace were huge and weighed a lot. I recall that it took several men to move the pieces into the living room one at a time. The pieces of the furnace were then lowered down through the hole to the ground below. For some of the pieces, a scaffold of sorts was stacked and using a jack, parts of the scaffolding would be removed lowering each part of the furnace down inches at a time. Then one piece would be mounted on top of another until the entire appliance was built. It then was surrounded with galvanized pieces of metal encompassing the main frame, or firebox, of the furnace.

Then, huge pipes were connected to the furnace and built to connect to the several vents in the floor. The hole immediately above the furnace was filled with a large register that allowed the heat to come straight up through the floor into the living room. What a wonderful place to stand when Ken & I would come in from playing in the snow. No heat ever felt any better than that.

In the cellar off from the area of the furnace was a coal bin. Ironically, the coal bin - a room dug into the earth - had a wall of natural coal. Theory is that one could have dug a mine right there and supplied one-self with coal. A miner could park next to the house, along the road, place a chute that would go from the side of the truck to a little door that was built under the front porch. This permitted the coal to be shoveled into the chute and it slid down the chute and into the coal bin.

As boys, Ken & I were responsible for seeing that there was enough coal in the kitchen for the cook stove, and as well for the furnace. We were also responsible to see that the ashes were carried out and down the hill to a dump area. We saw to it that there was enough kindling chopped for starting the fires, and that there was full buckets of water in the kitchen. The water was retireved from a hand pump out side in front of the house.

As the coal mine under our house came ever closer it eventually ruined our water. It became necessary to carry it from a spring down the hill from the house. The pump water became a rusty read color and tasted terrible. The spring wasn't affected by the mines for years. Eventually dad installed a electric pump to draw the water up from the spring. Uncle Frank Fleming was more fortunate. He lived on the bottom of a hill in Dixonville, and his spring was above his house. All he needed to do for his water was dig a trench up the hill and run pipe. Gravity down to his home provided him with running water.

These were wonderful days. I used to say - the day would never come that I wished they were back. However, more and more, I find that those days had so much over and above the times and circumstances of now - I really do wish they were back. I'd gladly exchange anything we have today to live once again in those times when a man was a man, a woman was a woman. The title of homemaker was a saintly job. An income was a manly thing to earn. Children were responsible and taught to respect others. The front door could be left unlocked. The bread was fresh from the oven. No one was remotely concerned about global warming, pollution or any of a host of other things we find ourselves needlessly preoccupied with in the 21^st century. If we were to spend a fraction of our time worrying about what is being spoon fed to our children in the educational system, as we do worry about all the things we can do nothing about, we might be able to recapture our yester-years. We all know this can't happen. It is, though, above conceit that we as mortal bings think that we can have a great impact on anything that God has made. What was then, could be now - that is, if we really wanted it. What is now is what we have earned by our own devices. We maintain the status-quo. God maintains the universe and heaven above. We destroy more by our thoughts and convictions that we do by our inventions.

Home Made Bread! What a delightful thought . . .

July 4, 2002