The Dixie Cook-Book

“The best is none too good.” Southern family receipts gathered across generations and printed in Atlanta in 1883 — and, in the same volume, everything else a household was expected to know: the laundry, the sick-room, dressmaking, babies, and a year's bill of fare.

HomeBread-Making › Bread, in Summer or Winter

Bread, in Summer or Winter

In summer take three pints of cold or tepid water, four tablespoons of yeast, one tea-spoon of salt; stir in flour enough to make a thick sponge (rather thicker than griddle-cakes). Let stand until morning, then add more flour, mix stiff, and knead ten minutes; place in a pan, let rise until light, knead for another ten minutes; mold into four loaves, and set to rise, but do not let it get too light; bake in a moderate oven one hour. If bread is mixed at six o'clock in the morning, the baking ought to be done by ten o'clock. In winter take one pint of buttermilk or clabbered milk; let it scald (not boil); make a well in the center of the flour, into it turn the hot milk, add one tea-spoon of salt, enough flour and water to make sufficient sponge, and one tea-cup of yeast; let stand until morning, and then prepare the bread as in summer. This is more convenient to make in winter, since a hot fire is needed to heat the milk.-Mrs. D. Buxton,

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a sponge-set bread from the era before packaged yeast, and the two versions are really one method with different overnight liquids. Everything hinges on the sponge: it goes together the night before and does most of the fermenting while you sleep.

A Little History

Household manuals of the late nineteenth century commonly organized bread around a sponge left overnight, because much of the yeast in use was homemade, unreliable, and slow — a wet potato or hop yeast kept in a jug and refreshed as it was used. The winter variation here is a piece of purely practical economy, and the recipe says as much itself: heating a pint of buttermilk demanded a hot fire, which a winter kitchen had anyway and a summer kitchen did not. The Dixie Cook Book, like its Northern siblings in the compiled-recipe trade, credits contributions to named women such as Mrs. D. Buxton, so what survives is one household's working schedule rather than a tested formula — hence the flour measured by feel and the yeast measured by whatever was in the jug.

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