There are all sorts of old timey skills that are useful in a SHTF scenario, but knowing how to bake bread will be high on the list. At one time in history (ie anytime prior to 1930), pretty much everyone had at least a vague idea of how to bake bread. If they hadn’t done it themselves, they at least had witnessed it being made. The modern grocery store killed the last of the bakers, though. Baking, even the “bougie” artisan stuff, is done largely by machine these days. Why bake when you can just pick up a couple of loaves at the store? And store loaves last for weeks and weeks, while fresh bread goes moldy after only a few days.
When you have access to store bought bread, that’s fine. But what if you don’t? What if … oh, say a pandemic happens, and all the grocery stores are out of EVERYTHING, and you can’t find store bread? The bottom line is you need to know how to make your own.
There are simple loaves, no knead recipes that come together quickly with a minimum of mess. There are complex loaves that require multiple rises and tons of work. I tend to go for bread somewhere in the middle. Two rises to develop the gluten and make for a lovely, crusty bread that will hold together as sandwich exterior. A nice mix of flours. Standard yeast. It’s not a difficult loaf, if you know how to bake.
On Sunday, I held a class for six people at the Fort at No. 4, where I taught them how to make bread. From scratch. In a wood fired bake oven. We had a real range of students. One was a reenactor from the current iteration of Roger’s Rangers, who simply hadn’t learned to bake in the beehive and really wanted some help. One was a complete bread virgin but the price was right and how exciting to get to hang out in a fort and cook bread? The two couples were doing the lessons as a sort of “date day” thing, and were at varying levels of having attempted bread. One of the guys was a baker at a big company, but had never made bread with nothing more than a wooden spoon and a bowl.
We started out the day by adding yeast to warm water, and feeding it a bit of sugar. I explained that we were fermenting the yeast, letting it become active. While it isn’t necessary with dry active yeast (which is what we were using), it’s a good habit to get into. While our yeast was waking up, we went out to start the fire in the beehive oven. Everyone brought some wood, and I had already split kindling and had scraps from Chris’s day in the workshop on Saturday, so the fire started up quickly. Once it was loaded up and roaring, we were off to the kitchen again.
We slowly added our flour into the water and yeast mixture, then stirred with a wooden spoon. Once we had most of the flour in and the dough was forming, it got turned out onto the table, and we started the kneading process. Everyone has sore shoulders this morning (except me), because when kneading entirely by hand, it takes about 20 minutes. They all had various problems with their dough as we kneaded, and I was able to explain a variety of possible failure points. Everyone ended up with a decent “silky smooth” ball of dough, and we set that to rest.
Most of the folks scarpered off to look around the fort, but the Roger’s Rangers lady stayed to ply me with questions. It was a ton of fun, and I was able to give her a lot of advice and such. We traded information, checked on the fire and fed it, and after 45 minutes our loaves were doubled in size. The glory of a humid, hot day is that bread is absolutely going to be a success.
We punched down our bread, split it in two, and formed rounds. These were set to rise a second time. When they were ready, the oven was about ready. I pulled out all the coals, scraped off the majority of the ash, and then we each slid our loaves into the hot oven. Several of our loaves sort of deflated as they were picked up, and people were disappointed… until they came out, all poofy and amazing. The heat of a cob oven really does a lot to invigorate the yeasties.
I sent home six students thrilled with being able to make bread with their own hands, and excited to make more loaves at home. I sent them home with some history, a recipe, and their bread of course. But I also sent them home with a new skill. That ability to check the dough for its readiness, that’s most easily learned by watching another. I stood in for the mothers or grandmothers who failed to pass along that knowledge. It was a good feeling.
The thing that really stuck with me was how hesitant everyone was to touch their dough in the beginning, and how quickly I was able to dissuade them of that necessity as we moved along. I spent so many years being afraid to manhandle my dough, afraid I’d deflate it or ruin it or whatever. Nowadays, I stress so much less, and being able to share that knowledge and experience with them was gratifying. The end result, those lovely, puffy loaves all crisp on the outside and solid with good crumb inside, that was the trophy they deserved. Bread is a contest that provides its own reward.
And I talked to them a while about failure. We learn the most from failure, and we learn absolutely nothing from 100% success. Failing is one of the best ways to learn something new. Bread is a great metaphor, because even your failures aren’t flat out failures. Unless you’ve burnt your loaf so much that it’s a carbon rock, your bread can still be eaten. If it fails entirely to rise, you can pull off bits and form patties, then fry them in bacon grease or butter or whatever, and now you have fry bread. It still tastes great. It’s still bread, just a different kind.
The resilience you learn from baking can be applied in all aspects of life. Bread can be turned into many different things, and so can your life. It just takes some application, some education, and a willingness to get up when you fall down. I had an amazing weekend.
Oh, and my weight is way down. I’m so pleased with myself. Who knew that burning 3000 calories in a day, walking 5+ miles a day, and wearing long skirts and undergarments in 94*F weather would cause weight loss. 😉