The History of Bread: From Pre-historic to Modern Times

The oldest kind of windmill is called a post mill, because the whole structure is centred on a post, or pivot, and, when the wind shifts, the mill has to be turned bodily to meet it, by means of a long lever. The smock, or frock, windmill is an improvement upon the post mill; the building itself is stationary and permanent, but the head or cap, where is the wind shaft, rotates, and this is more easily managed.

For hundreds of years people were contented with the four and six arms to their windmills, and it was only in modern times that Messrs. J. Warner and Sons, of Cripplegate, London, patented their annular sails, which, as is plain to the meanest capacity, are vastly superior. The shutters, or ‘vanes,’ are connected with spiral springs, which keep them up to the best angle of ‘weather, for light winds. If the strength of the wind increases, the vanes give to the wind, forcing back the springs, and thus the area on which the wind acts diminishes. In addition, there are a striking lever and tackle for setting the vanes edgeways to the wind, when the mill is stopped, or a storm expected.

We have seen how from the very first man used stones wherewith to triturate his corn, and to this day stones are still used for grinding, although their days are in all probability numbered, and in a very little time they, with the windmill, will be relegated to limbo. The Encyclopædia Britannica gives such an excellent description of these mill-stones, that I quote it in its entirety.

‘They consist of two flat cylindrical masses inclosed within a wooden or sheet metal case, the lower, or bed-stone, being permanently fixed, while the upper, or runner, is accurately pivoted and balanced over it The average size of millstones is about four feet two inches in diameter, by twelve inches in thickness, and they are made of a hard but cellular siliceous stone, called buhr-stone, the best qualities of which are obtained from La-Ferté-sous-Jouarre, department of Seine et Marne, France. Millstones are generally built up of segments, bound together round the circumference by an iron hoop, and backed with plaster of Paris. The bed-stone is dressed to a perfectly flat plane surface, and a series of grooves, or shallow depressions, are cut in it, generally in the manner shown, which represents the grinding surface of an upper or running stone. The grooves on both are made to correspond exactly, so that when the one is rotated over the other the sharp edges of the grooves, meeting each other, operate like a rough pair of scissors, and thus the effect of the stones on grain submitted to their action is at once that of cutting, squeezing, and crushing. The dressing and grooving of millstones is generally done by hand picking, but sometimes black amorphous diamonds (carbonado) are used, and emery wheel dressers have likewise been suggested. The upper stone, or runner, is set in motion by a spindle on which it is mounted, which passes up through the centre of the bed-stone, and there are screws and other appliances for adjusting and balancing the stone. Further provision is made within the stone case for passing through air to prevent too high a heat being developed in the grinding operation, and sweepers for conveying the flour to the meal spout are also provided.

‘The ground meal delivered by the spout is carried forward in a conveyor, or creeper box, by means of an Archimedean screw, to the elevators, by which it is lifted to an upper floor to the bolting or flour-dressing machine. The form in which this apparatus was formerly employed consisted of a cylinder mounted on an inclined plane, and covered externally with wire cloth of different degrees of fineness, the finest being at the upper part of the cylinder, where the meal is admitted. Within the cylinder, which was stationary, a circular brush revolved, by which the meal was pressed against the wire cloth, and, at the same time, carried gradually towards the lower extremity, sifting out, as it proceeded, the mill products into different grades of fineness, and finally delivering the coarse bran at the extremity of the cylinder. For the operation of bolting or dressing, hexagonal or octagonal cylinders, about three feet in diameter, and from 20 to 25 feet long, are now commonly employed. These are mounted horizontally on a spindle for revolving, and externally they are covered with silk of different degrees of fineness, whence they are called “silks,” or “silk dressers.” Radiating arms or other devices for carrying the meal gradually forward as the apparatus revolved, are fixed within the cylinders; and there is also an arrangement of beaters, which gives the segments of cloth a sharp tap, and thereby facilitates the sifting action of the apparatus. Like all other mill machines, the modifications of the silk dresser are numerous,’

We have seen the ordinary operation of grinding flour in the old-fashioned way; now let us notice the improvements in making wheat into flour.

‘We will suppose that the wheat has arrived by lighter at one of the large mills on the Thames, and that it has been shovelled into sacks and hoisted into the warehouse. The process by which it is turned into flour may be divided into three stages: (1) cleaning, (2) breaking, (3) grinding; but the number and complexity of the operations included in these stages are astounding. It must be understood that the following description refers to a first-class London mill—that is, one which has, certainly no superior, and, probably, no equal, in the world.

‘In the first stage the wheat is merely prepared for the mill, and this is done in the cleaning department, which is separate from the mill proper. From the warehouse the grain is passed to a sifter or “separator,” which is a kind of sieve. Here the grosser impurities—straw, sticks, stones, earth, seeds, and what not—are removed. Thence to an “elevator,” precisely similar in principle to that previously described, and by the elevator straight to the top of the building. Here it enters a wire sieve in the form of a revolving hexagonal “reel,” by which the smaller heavy impurities with which it is still mixed are separated. Passing through this, it drops into the next storey, to be subjected to the “aspirator,” an apparatus by means of which currents of air are blown through the grain as it falls and carry off the lighter and more volatile rubbish mixed with it. In the next floor is an ingenious instrument with a special purpose. Among the wheat is still a quantity of small black seeds, known as “cockle” seeds, and to get rid of these the “cockle cylinder” is employed. It is a revolving metal cylinder, the inner surface of which is fitted with small holes; the grain passes into the interior of the cylinder, and as the latter goes round and round the cockle seeds stick in the small holes and are carried up to a certain height, when they fall out and are caught by an “apron”; while the wheat, which is too large to stick in the holes, continually falls back into the bottom of the cylinder. Again our corn drops a storey, and encounters the “decorcitator.” The object of this apparatus is to knock off the dust and dirt adhering to the grains, and it is effected by agitating them between two metal surfaces at a high rate of speed. The amount of dust removed by this method from apparently clean grain is astonishing. In the next storey is another decorcitator, and below that a second aspirator, which brings us once more to the ground.

‘On reaching the ground floor again, our now clean wheat is first passed through the “grading” or “sizing” reels, which separate it into two sizes, and then it enters the mill proper. It should be said here that the milling industry of the world has been revolutionised within the past few years by the substitution of steel rollers for the old millstones. The process of crushing or grinding, however, by steel rollers is accomplished in a very gradual manner, as will be explained: First come the “break rolls.” These are solid steel rollers set in pairs, with corrugated surfaces; this gives them a cutting action. Wheat is passed through five successive pairs of these rollers. The first are about 1/16th inch apart, and only break or bruise the grain slightly. Each successive pair is set closer, and carries the bruising a step further. But this is only half the business. After each set of rollers the grain goes through a “purifier,” which is either a sieve of some kind or an aspirator, or both together, and the object is always the same—namely, to separate the solid particles of the broken wheat from the lighter ones. The former are, or rather will eventually be, flour; the latter constitute “offal.” And the whole art of milling is merely an extension of this process; first reduction, then separation, repeated over and over again. As the grain passes through each successive set of rollers it is broken up finer and ever finer, and the separating action of the “purifier” accompanies it step by step. The solid particles grow smaller and smaller, the “offal” correspondingly finer and finer. This is the process in brief, but there are endless complications and refinements on the way. For instance, the solid particles are not only separated but are themselves divided into groups according to size. Then the offal often undergoes a further purifying process. Then the purifiers differ—some are complex, others simple; some of wire, others of silk; some revolve, others oscillate; some are “aspirated,” others not; and so forth. Meanwhile, at the end of the five rolls and five purifiers, which make up our breaking department, we have got three products: (a) semolina; (b) middlings; (c) offal. The first two are practically varieties of the same—i.e., both solid particles, which will afterwards be flour, but of different sizes. They are half way between grain and flour—hence the term “middlings.”

‘Grinding is only a continuation of the above process, but the rollers are different; their surfaces are smooth, and they are set closer together. The purifiers, too, are, for the most part, more elaborate. A look at one of them will show the extreme ingenuity expended on these operations. It consists primarily of an oscillating sieve made of silk, through the meshes of which the particles of flour fall into a wooden bin. On the floor of the bin is a “worm” which continually works the flour along to one end; on the under surface of the sieve is a travelling brush which brushes off the adhering flour and prevents the meshes from getting clogged. Above the sieve is an apparatus which, with the aid of currents blown by an aspirator, catches the volatile offal; and above that again a travelling blanket which arrests the still more volatile particles. Finally, the blanket, as it reaches the end, is tapped automatically to knock out what has stuck to it. By the time a handful of grain has been converted into a handful of fine flour it has gone through some 50 different machines, including 18 sets of rollers and 18 purifiers.

‘The following points may be of interest: A first-class London mill working 100 sets of rollers can turn out 45 sacks of flour per hour. Offal, according to its fineness or coarseness, forms bran, pollard, etc., and is worth from 5l. to 6l. a ton. The qualities of flour are whiteness and strength. The former is tested by the eye, the latter only really by baking capacity. There seems to be a general consensus of opinion in favour of flour made from Hungarian wheat. The best English is of sweeter flavour, but lacks “strength.” It has been reckoned that 300 sacks are made per hour in London mills, all of which is consumed in London. The flour mill industry owes nothing to American inventive genius; on the contrary, that country is behind the times. The steel rollers came originally from Hungary—always a great milling country.’

CHAPTER IX.
THE MILLER AND HIS TOLLS.

In old times corn mills were always important factors in manors, and a source of considerable profit to the lord of the same. All the tenants of the manor were bound by custom to have their corn ground at the manor mill, paying a toll to the lord, for the mill was part of his demesne. The tenants owed suit to the mill in the same manner as they owed suit and service at the Manor Court. This, however, did not apply to the grinding or bruising of malt, and there were probably two good reasons for it—one, that the tenants could perform the operation on their own premises; and the second, that if it were done at the mill it would be likely to spoil the flour next ground.

Very many instances of these mills may be given, but one will suffice, more especially as in this case it was carried down to modern times. There was at Wakefield, Yorkshire, a corn mill which was a franchise of the Pilkington family, of Chevel Park, by charters from one of the Edwards. The monopoly of grinding the corn at this mill was a great sore to the inhabitants, and the cause of much litigation, but the holders of the rights always came off the victors. They claimed the right of grinding not only for the town of Wakefield, but for some miles round, including the villages of Horbury, Ossett, Newmillardam, and others; so that all the corn used in this district was obliged to be ground at the ‘Soke Mill,’ or, as it was otherwise called, the ‘King’s Mill,’ and neither meal nor flour could be sold unless it were ground there. The tenant of the mill demanded a ‘mulcture’ of one-sixteenth—that is, out of 16 sacks of corn he kept one for himself for grinding the other 15.

Some time about 1850 the inhabitants of Wakefield and the adjacent villages determined to purchase the rights, and this was done by a rate spread over a series of years, and called the ‘Soke Rate.’ The purchase money amounted to about £20,000. The same kind of property existed at Leeds and at Bradford; but from neglect on the part of the owners, and lapse of time, the inhabitants turned restive and independent, and ‘broke the Soke,’ without compensating the Lords of the Manors. These mills are still called the King’s Mills.

Nor was this custom confined to England. In Scotland, in feudal times, it was common for the tenants of a barony to be bound to have their corn ground at the barony mill. Centuries ago the erection of a substantial building, with the millstones, driving machinery, and other plant necessary for a mill, together with the drying-kilns, mill-dams, lades, weirs, and watercourses requisite for a corn mill involved the expenditure of a considerable sum of money, such as only the baron could find. He, therefore, assured himself of a return for his capital invested by binding his tenants to use his mill. Of course, he got a good rent for his mill, which was the manner in which the benefit arising from the bondage of his tenants found its way into his coffers.

Sir James A. Picton, in his City of Liverpool selections from the municipal archives and records, states that in 1558 the Corporation of the Borough ordered that ‘every miller, on warning, shall bring his toll-dish to Mr. Mayor, to a lawful size thereof sealed, under a penalty of 6d.’ That this toll-taking on the part of millers was occasionally perverted there can be but little doubt, and it was sometimes very severely commented on, as we may see in this passage from a tragedy by Wm. Sampson (1636), called The Vow-Breaker; or, the Fair Maid of Clifton. ‘Fellow Bateman, farewell; commend me to my old windmill at Rudington. Oh! the mooter dish—[Multure or Toll-dish]—the miller’s thumbe, and the maide behind the hopper!’

In the Roxburghe ballads (vol. iii., 681) we have The Miller’s Advice to his Three Sons in Taking of Toll:

To show the popular idea of a miller’s integrity, I may mention that the children in Somersetshire, when they have caught a certain kind of large white moth, which they call a Miller, chant over it this refrain:

and then they put the poor insect to death on account of its imaginary misdeeds.

Even Chaucer must have his gird at the miller:

The ‘thombe of gold’ has somewhat puzzled commentators on Chaucer. One thing is certain: that a miller has been traditionally credited with a broad thumb, and the little fish the Bullhead is called The Millers’ Thumb, from a fancied resemblance. Every one connected with the navy knows what the ‘purser’s thumb’ is, from the legend that, when serving out their tots of rum to the men, his thumb was invariably inside the measure (doubtless necessitated by the rolling of the old men-of-war), which resulted in a large profit to himself during a long cruise, and this seems to illustrate Chaucer’s meaning, especially as it occurs immediately after the miller’s ill-gotten gains, that by putting his broad thumb into every measure he made thereby gold during the year.

But there is another and a kindlier explanation of the term, which rests on the authority of Constable, the painter, according to Yarrell, in his History of British Fishes, when writing of the Bullhead. ‘The head of the fish is smooth, broad, and rounded, and is said to resemble exactly the form of a miller’s thumb, as produced by a peculiar and constant action of the muscles in the exercise of a particular and most important part of his occupation. It is well known that all the science and tact of a miller are directed so to regulate the machinery of his mill that the meal produced shall be of the most valuable description that the operation of grinding will permit, when performed under the most advantageous circumstances. His profit or his loss, even his fortune or his ruin, depend upon the exact adjustment of all the various parts of the machinery in operation. The miller’s ear is constantly directed to the note made by the running-stone in its circular course over the bed-stone, the exact parallelism of their two surfaces, indicated by a particular sound, being a matter of the first consequence; and his hand is as constantly placed under the meal spout to ascertain, by actual contact, the character and qualities of the meal produced. The thumb, by a particular movement, spreads the sample over the fingers; the thumb is the gauge of the value of the produce, and hence have arisen the saying of worth a miller’s thumb, and an honest miller hath a golden thumb, in reference to the amount of profit that is the reward of his skill.’

Any notice of flour would, of course, be valueless without an analysis of its constituent parts, which, as anyone can understand, will vary in different wheats; there can be no standard, because of the difference of the soils on which it grows, a fact which is fully borne out by the following tables by famous analysts. Jago (The Chemistry of Wheat, Flour, and Bread, &c. Brighton, 1886), quoting Bell, says:—

Professor Graham, in a lecture delivered at the International Health Exhibition, London, July 3, 1884, quoting Lawes and Gilbert, says:—

Messrs. Wanklyn and Cooper (Bread Analysis, &c., London, 1881) say that, according to their analysis, this wheaten flour, which is the flour commonly to be bought in this country, has the following composition:—

A comparison of these tables by well-known analysts shows us, if we only take the single article of wheat, how the grain varies. Let me now say something about the constituents of wheat in as simple a form as possible.

The fat is of a yellow colour, and, as far as is known, is not a particularly valuable component part; but as all fats are foods, of course, it is of service.

The starch in wheat is the ordinary starch (of the best kind) of commerce; and, seeing that it forms the greater part of all breadstuffs, it naturally is an important element in them. In good, sound wheat the starch granules are whole; in sprouted wheat, or that heated by damp, they are rotted, and, consequently, the starch they contain is changed, more or less, into dextrin and sugar, and, consequently, a difference is made in the food value of the wheat.

Dextrin and sugar are small components of good wheat. The dextrin, no doubt, has a beneficial effect in small quantities, but not in large. Sugar, such as is found in wheat, affords the necessary amount of saccharine matter for fermentation.

Cellulose is more useful to the plant than to the miller, to whom it is as so much bran.

There are two kinds of albuminoids, or gluten, present in wheat—one insoluble, the other soluble in alcohol. The former makes what is called a ‘strong bread,’ and the latter acts, in bread-making, on the former, and, under the influence of yeast, it attacks the starch, converting it into dextrin and maltose.

The ash of wheat contains principally phosphoric acid and potassium; magnesium ranks next; then lime, silica, phosphate of iron, soda, chlorine, and sulphuric and carbonic acids.

CHAPTER X.
BREAD MAKING AND BAKING.

The ordinary method of bread-making in London is as follows: The first process, when the bread is made with thick yeast, being to prepare a mixture of potatoes, yeast, and flour, by which the process of fermentation is to be produced in the dough.

Mr. George W. Austin, in his pamphlet on Bread, Baking, and Bakers,’ says about the ferment: ‘For each sack of flour (280 lbs.) about 8 lbs. or 10 lbs. of dry, mealy potatoes are taken, well boiled and mashed and washed through a strainer to take away the skin; to this is added 12 or 14 quarts of water, at a temperature varying from 80 deg. to 90 deg., and a quart of thick brewers’ yeast, or 1 lb. of compressed yeast—which is equal. Having well dissolved the yeast, and added 2 lbs. of flour, the mass is allowed to stand some three or four hours, until the head falls in through the escape of gas.’ The next process is the preparation of the sponge. The trough and flour being ready, the ferment is taken, and, with the addition of 28 quarts of clear water, at a temperature of 80 deg. to 90 deg., is passed into the trough through a sieve or strainer, and the mass, being kept well together, is made up into a nice dry sponge. It is allowed to remain thus and ferment for another five or six hours, when it will have risen and formed a head, which is allowed to break. As soon as this head is broken it commences to rise again, and as soon as it has broken the second time the remainder of the flour is added, and the dough made as follows:

Two and a half pounds of salt dissolved in 28 quarts of clear water, at a temperature of 80 deg., and mixed well into what is termed ‘the sponge,’ with the remainder of the flour, the whole being broken up and well and thoroughly mixed and kneaded until the dough is uniform in material and consistency. It is then left to rise for another hour or more, when the dough is weighed out in pieces of the requisite size and speedily manipulated into the required shape. As the loaves are moulded they are placed on trays, covered with a light cloth (to prevent the dry and colder air forming a dry crust on the surface), and left to dry sufficiently before being placed in the oven. Before this is done the loaves are slightly brushed over with a small quantity of milk and water to improve the appearance of the outside of the loaf when it comes from the oven.

The oven is, for the purpose of baking bread, brought up to a heat of 400 deg. Fahr., and the bread, although seemingly baked by dry heat, is in reality boiled in the steam of the water which the bread contains.14

Salt is added to make the bread more palatable; but it has also another effect. With inferior flour dextrin is formed inside the loaf to some extent as well as on the outside, consequently bread made from inferior flour rises badly and is darker in colour. This inferior flour is made sometimes from wheat that has been damp, the dampness causing the soluble albumenoids which the grain contains to act on the insoluble gluten, decomposing it into soluble bodies, and producing dextrin by their action on the starch in the grain. The further decomposition of these albumenoids is checked by the action of the salt during the fermentation of the bread.

And now it will be well to say something about the leaven of bread. We have already seen the modern method of making a ferment with flour, potatoes, and brewer’s yeast; but there are other substances which do not cause fermentation, and yet lighten the bread, such as the different baking powders, and the American sal eratus, a mixture of bi-carbonate of soda and salt. Carbonate of ammonia, which entirely evaporates in baking, is used in confectionery to raise the paste by the bubbles it forms in its volatilisation. The unfermented breads, such as those made by the late Dr. Dauglish’s patent (of which more anon), are rendered light upon the same principle, the usual method being to mix soda with the flour, and hydrochloric acid with the water, in the proportions in which they unite to form chloride of sodium, or common salt. The effervescence, like that produced in mixing seidlitz powders, converts the paste into a porous sponge, which, however, requires to be very quickly placed in the oven. The salt formed by the mixture replaces that ordinarily added to the dough in making bread; but this method is seldom used by practical bakers. Whatever, therefore, be the method by which bread is made light, the object to be attained is to pervade the dough with numerous cavities, which keep the particles of flour asunder, instead of forming a compact and unyielding mass.

The science which gave an insight into the cause of the ‘rising’ of bread, and suggested substitutes for the ordinary fermenting materials, is but of recent date. These ferments operate by generating an infinity of gas bubbles, which honeycomb the dough. The earliest process was to employ leaven, which is still largely used in the manufacture of the black rye bread of the Continent, and consists of dough which has become more or less sour by over-fermentation. This is kept from one baking to another, to inoculate a fresh bulk of paste with its fermenting influence. No sooner does it come into contact with the fresh dough than it communicates its own properties, as by contagion. Probably the discovery of leavening has, in many countries, been owing to accident, through neglected paste having been attacked by the fungus which is the cause of fermentation.

Many of my readers probably do not know that yeast is a plant. It belongs to the class of fungi, and, in accordance with the general habit of its kind, it differs from the green forms of vegetable life by feeding upon organic substances. The yeast plant represents one condition of a species of fungus remarkable for the diversity of forms it exhibits, its wide, nay, universal distribution, and the magnitude of the effects, sometimes beneficial, sometimes mischievous, which it is capable of producing. The forms in which it is familiar to most persons, although its nature may be unsuspected, are yeast, the gelatinous vinegar plant, the ‘mother’ of vinegar, and many decomposing vegetable infusions, and the common blue or green mould (penicillium glaucum) which occurs everywhere on sour paste, decaying fruits, and, in general, on all dead organic matters exposed to combined moisture and moderate heat.

Yeast and the vinegar plant are the forms in which it vegetates under various circumstances when well supplied with food. Mildew is its fruit, formed on the surfaces exposed to air at certain epochs, like the flowers and seeds of the higher plants, to enable it to diffuse itself, which it does most effectually, for the microscopic germs, invisible singly to the naked eye, are produced in myriads, and are so diminutive that ordinary motes floating in the atmosphere are large in comparison.

Yeast, when examined under the microscope, is found to consist of globular vesicles about 1/2300th part of an inch in diameter when fully grown. They are multiplied by little vesicles budding out from the sides of the parent. These soon acquire an equal size, and repeat the reproduction, either while attracted to the parent globule or after separating from it. The multiplication goes on to an indefinite extent with a fitting supply of food and at a moderately warm temperature (70 deg.-90 deg. Fahr.). The vesicles are nourished by sucking in a portion of the organic liquid in which they exist, decomposing this chemically, and either actually giving off, or causing the separation of their outer surface, of carbonic acid in the form of gas. To give a familiar illustration of the action of the carbonic acid which is evolved from yeast on the dough, I may say that it is analogous to the froth formed on a tumbler of bottled ale or ginger-beer. The cavities or bubbles in the dough are produced in an exactly similar manner; but two circumstances occur in bread to render them permanent—first, the fact that they are slowly formed; secondly, that they are generated in a substance which, while it is soft enough to allow the bubbles to expand, is tough enough to retain them.

There are several kinds of yeast besides barm, or brewer’s yeast, which, in spite of its bitter taste, is generally used by bakers because it is the least expensive. Next in consumption is what is termed press yeast, in German press hefe or pfund hefe, commonly known in commerce as German yeast, so called because it originally was a monopoly of that country, but it is now largely manufactured in Scotland. Of these yeasts Mr. Austin says:

‘Press yeast is obtained partly by the brewing of beer or distillation of spirits as a by-product, partly it is made artificially. In the former case, the beer upper yeast is mixed with ten times its quantity of water, to which one per cent. of carbonate of ammonia is added, macerated and well washed for an hour, and then mixed with a compound of two parts of finely-powdered malt and ten parts starch, so that we have a firm mass, which is made into cakes half-an-inch thick. This yeast must be made fresh every two or three days, and must be kept in a cool place. A better press yeast is made from the yeast of the distilleries. The pasty residue of the mash tub is passed through a hair sieve to get rid of the grain husks. The filtrate is allowed to settle, and the sediment is put into linen cloths and washed with water, and the water squeezed out again under gentle pressure. The yeast is thus obtained in the form of cakes.’

Very many people prefer to make their own bread instead of buying it from the baker; not that there is a great saving, but there is a certain satisfaction in knowing by whom it is made, and as, doubtless, many of my readers have never attempted to make and bake their own bread, I venture to give Miss Acton’s ‘very plain directions to a quite inexperienced learner for making bread.’15

‘If you have never yet attempted to make bread, and wish to try to do it well, and have nobody to show you the proper manner of setting about it, you may yet succeed perfectly by attending with great exactness to the directions which are given here; but, as a large baking is less easily managed than a small one quite at first, and as the loss would be greater if the bread were spoiled, I would advise you to begin with merely a loaf or two.

‘Take, then, let us say, half a gallon of flour, or a quartern, as it is called in some places. This will weigh three pounds and a half, and will make two loaves of nearly two pounds and a quarter each. There are two ways of making the dough, either of which, in experienced hands, will generally be attended with success. The most common mode of proceeding is to mix the yeast carefully with part of the liquid required for the whole of the bread, and to stir it into the centre of the flour; then to add by degrees what more of the liquid may be necessary, and to convert the whole with thorough, steady kneading into a firm but flexible paste, which, after standing in a suitable place until it has swollen to nearly double its original size, is again thoroughly kneaded, and once more left to “rise” or become porous before it is moulded into loaves and despatched to the oven.

‘To Make Dough by Setting a Sponge.—This method of making dough is usually followed when there is any doubt either of the goodness or of the sufficient quantity of the yeast which is used for it, because if it should not become light after standing a certain time, more yeast, mixed with a little warm liquid, can easily be added to it, and the chance of having heavy bread be thus avoided.

‘If you are sure of the goodness of the yeast you use it will not much matter which of them you follow. The quickest and easiest mode is to wet it up at once; the safest to guard against failure is to set a sponge thus: Put the flour into a large earthenware bowl or deep pan, then with a strong metal or wooden spoon hollow out the middle, but do not clear it entirely away from the bottom of the pan, as in that case the sponge (or leaven as it was formerly termed) would stick to it, which it ought not to do. Next take either a large tablespoonful of brewer’s yeast, which has been rendered solid by mixing it with cold water and letting it afterwards stand to settle for a day and a night, or nearly an ounce of fresh German yeast. Put it into a large basin and then proceed to mix it, so that it shall be as smooth as cream, with three-quarters of a pint or even a whole pint of just warm milk and water or water only, though even a very little milk will much improve the bread. To have it quite free from lumps you must pour in the liquid by spoonfuls just at the beginning, and stir and work it round well to mix it perfectly with the yeast before you add the remainder, otherwise it would probably cause the bread to be full of large holes, which ought never to be seen in it. Pour the yeast into the hole in the middle of the flour, and stir into it as much of that which lies around it as will make a thick batter, in which, remember, there must be no lumps. If there should seem to be any you must beat them out with the spoon. Strew plenty of flour on the top, throw a thick clean cloth over, and set it where the air is warm; but if there is a large fire do not place it upon the kitchen fender in front of it, as servants often do, for it will become too much heated there; but let it always be raised from the floor, and protected from constant draughts of air passing over it. Look at it from time to time when it has been laid for nearly an hour, and when you perceive that the yeast has risen and broken through the flour, and that bubbles appear in it, you will know that it is ready to be made up into dough. Then place the pan on a strong chair or dresser, or table of convenient height; pour into the sponge a little warm milk and water (about a pint and a quarter will be required altogether for the quartern of bread), so that if three-quarters of a pint was mixed with the yeast at first there will be half a pint to add. Sometimes a little more will be needed; but be always careful not to make the dough too moist; stir into it as much flour as you can with the spoon, then wipe it out clean with your fingers and lay it aside.

‘Next take plenty of the remaining flour, throw it on the top of the leaven, and begin with the knuckles of both hands to knead it well. Quick movement in this will do no good. It is strong, steady kneading which is required. Keep throwing up the flour which lies under and round the dough on to the top of it, that it may not stick to your fingers. You should always try to prevent its doing this, for you will soon discover that attention to these small particulars will make a great difference in the quality of your bread and in the time required to make it. When the flour is nearly all kneaded in begin to draw the edges of the dough towards the middle, in order to mix the whole thoroughly, and continue to knead it in every part spreading it out, and then turning it constantly from the side of the pan to the middle, and pressing the knuckles of your closed hands well into and over it. When the whole of the flour is worked in, and the outside of the dough is free from it and from all lumps and crumbs, and does not stick to the hands when touched, it will be done, and may be again covered with the cloth and left to rise a second time.

‘In three-quarters of an hour look at it, and should it have swollen very much, and begin to crack, it will be light enough to bake. Turn it then on to a paste-board, or very clean dresser, and, with a large sharp knife, divide it into two, when, if it has been carefully and properly made, you will find it full throughout of small holes like a fine sponge. When it is thus far ready make it up quickly into loaves, and despatch it to the oven. If it is to be baked in a flat tin or on the oven floor, dust a little flour on the board, and make them up lightly in the form of dumplings, drawing together the parts which are cut, and turning them downwards. Give them a good shape by working them round quickly between your hands without raising them from the board, and pressing them slightly as you do so; then take a knife in the right hand, and, turning each loaf quickly with the left, just draw the edge of it round the middle of the dough, but do not cut deeply into it; make also two or three slight incisions across the tops of the loaves, as they will rise more easily when this is done.

‘Should it be put into earthen pans, the dough must be cut with the point of the knife just below the edge of the dishes after it is laid into them. To prevent it sticking to them, and being turned out with difficulty after it is baked, the pans should be rubbed in every part with a morsel of butter laid on a bit of clean paper. When they are only floured, the loaves cannot sometimes be loosened from these without being broken. All bread should be turned upside down or on its side as soon as it is drawn from the oven; if this be neglected, the under part of the loaves will become wet and blistered from the steam, which cannot then escape from them. They should remain until they are perfectly cold before they are put away and covered down.

‘The only difference between this and the other way of making dough, mentioned at the beginning of these directions, is the mixing all the flour at first with the yeast and liquid into a firm smooth paste, which must be thoroughly kneaded down when it has become quite light, and then left to rise a second time before it is prepared for baking. A pint of warm milk and water, or of water only, may be stirred gradually to the yeast, which should then be poured into the middle of the flour, and worked with it into a stiff batter with a spoon, which should then be withdrawn, and the kneading with the hands commenced. Until a little experience has been gained, the mass of dough which will be formed with the pint of liquid, may be lifted from the pan into a dish, while sufficient warm water is added to wet up the remainder of the flour. This should afterwards be perfectly mingled with that which contains the yeast. A better plan is to use at once from a pint and a quarter to a pint and a half of liquid; but learners are very apt to pour in heedlessly more than is required, or to be inexact in the measure, and then more flour has to be used to make the bread of a proper consistence than is allowed for by the proportion of yeast named in the receipt. It is a great fault in bread-making to have the dough so moist that it sticks to the fingers when touched, and cannot be formed into loaves which will retain their shape without much flour being kneaded into them when they are made up for the oven.

‘When it is to be home baked as well as home made, you must endeavour to calculate correctly the time at which it will be ready, and have the oven in a fit state for it when it is so. Should it have to be carried to the baker’s, let a thick cloth or two be thrown over it before it is sent.’

In these very plain directions I do not find that Miss Acton specifies the quantity of salt to be used. Some, however, is absolutely necessary, to make good bread—say half an ounce to a quartern of flour.

CHAPTER XI.
OVENS ANCIENT AND MODERN.

We have now got the loaf made, and the next thing is to bake it; for the home-baked loaf, the oven of a kitchener or gas stove will do very well, and the heat should be about 400 deg. Fahr. A baker’s oven is a thing per se. For hundreds of years they were made on the same old pattern, but now, except in many of the small underground bakeries, they are scientifically built, fitted with pyrometers, and with internal lamps. Mr. Austin writes thus of the oven:

‘The baker’s oven is generally a brick oven, heated thoroughly with coal or wood according to construction; if made for coal, the damper will be on the one side and the furnace on the other, so that the flames play all round the oven; if constructed for wood, it must be heated with a good solid heat, with wood burnt in the interior of the oven, and then well cleaned out with a scuffle. As to the degrees of heat of the oven the laborious explanations and number of them may be reduced to three—viz., sharp or “flash,” as named in recipes; the second degree, moderate or “solid,” as used for large or solid articles, as wedding cakes, &c.; then slack or cool.

‘The baker’s old-fashioned method of testing the temperature of his oven is instructive. He throws flour on the floor. If it blackens without taking fire the heat is sufficient. It might be supposed that this is too high a temperature, as the object is to cook the bread, not to burn it; but we must remember that the flour which has been prepared for baking is mixed with water, and the evaporation of this water will materially lower the temperature of the dough itself. Besides this, we must bear in mind that another object is to be attained. A hard shell or crust has been formed, which will so encase and support the lump of dough as to prevent it from subsiding when the further evolution, carbonic gas, shall cease, which will be the case some time before the cooking of the mass is completed. It will happen when the temperature reaches the point at which the yeast cells can no longer germinate, when the temperature is below the boiling point of water.

‘In spite of all this outside temperature, that of the inner part of the loaf is kept down to a little above 212 degrees by the evaporation of the water contained in the bread; the escape of this vapour and the expansion of carbonic acid bubbles by heat increasing the porosity of the loaf. The outside being heated considerably above the temperature of the inner part, this variation produces the difference between the crust and the crumb. The action of the high temperature indirectly converting some of the starch into dextrin will be understood from what is already stated, and also the partial conversion of this dextrin into caramel. Thus we have in the crust an excess of dextrin as compared with the crumb, and the addition of a variable quantity of caramel. In lightly baked bread, with the crust of uniform pale yellowish colour, the conversion of the dextrin into caramel has barely commenced, and the gummy character of the dextrin coating is well displayed. So much bread, especially the long staves of life common in France, appears as though they had been varnished, and their crust is partially soluble in water. This explains the apparent paradox that hard crust or dry toast is more easily digested than the soft crumb of bread, the cookery of the crumb not having been carried beyond the mere hydration of the gluten and the starch and such degree of dextrin formation as was due to the action of the diastaste of grain during the preliminary period of “rising.”’

A form of oven now much in vogue is borrowed from Vienna. It is built of stone or brick; the roof is very low, and the floor slopes upwards towards the far end. The effect of this form of construction is to drive the steam rising from the loaves down on to the top of them again, thereby giving them the glazed surface so much admired in foreign bread. Steam is sometimes driven in with the same object; being lighter than that rising from the bread, it drives the latter down. The ovens are heated from below. Loaves remain in for one and a half or two hours.

As in everything connected with baking, during the past few years great improvements have been made in bakers’ ovens. Science has been brought to bear upon them, and we now have them heated by gas or steam in addition to coal and coke, besides improved alterations in many ways.

Nor do modern improvements in baking appliances stop short at ovens. Most bakers doing a good business use kneading machines, of which there are many in the market. With one exception—that of the Adair mixer, which has no arms nor beaters, but simply rotates, and by this action the flour and water pass through the rods of iron, which are placed crosswise in the machine, and become perfectly and proportionately mixed—they are all, more or less, on the same principle, of revolving arms, blades, or knives by which the flour and water are properly mixed, and the position of the dough being perpetually changed, it is effectually kneaded without the objectionable intervention of manual labour.

The earliest kneading machine that I can find mentioned is in 1850, when the illustrious philosopher, Arago, presented and recommended to the Institute of France the kneading and baking apparatus of M. Rolland, then a humble baker of the Twelfth Arrondissement. The kneading machine was described as exceedingly simple, and capable of being worked, when under a full charge, by a young man from 15 to 20 years old, the necessity for horse labour or steam power being thus obviated; and it was claimed that in less than twenty minutes a sack of flour could be converted into a perfect homogeneous and aërated dough altogether superior to any dough that could be obtained by manual kneading.

Another attempted improvement in the manufacture of bread was aërating the dough without using any ferment, such as yeast, etc., and this has been accomplished by means of mixing hydrochloric acid and carbonate of soda with the dough, or using bicarbonate of ammonia, or forcing carbonic acid into the water with which the flour is mixed. The latter is called the Dauglish system, from its inventor, the late John Dauglish, M.D. (born 1824, died January 14, 1866), and it is now in full working operation.

By this system carbonic acid gas is generated as if for making soda water, and, supposing a sack of flour was to be converted into dough, the following would be the treatment: A lid at the top of the mixer is opened, and the flour passed down into it through a spout from the floor above. The lid of the mixer is then fitted tightly on, and the air within it exhausted by the pump. The requisite quantity of water, about 17 gallons, is drawn into the water vessel, and carbonic acid is forced into it till the pressure amounts to from 15lb. to 25lb. per square inch. The aërated water is then passed into the mixer, and the mixing arms are set in motion, by which, in about seven minutes, the flour and water are incorporated into a perfectly uniform paste. At the lower end of the mixer a cavity is arranged, gauged to hold sufficient dough for a 2lb. loaf, and by a turn of a lever that quantity is dropped into a pan ready for at once depositing in the oven. The whole of the operations can be performed in less than half an hour.

The advantages of this system are absolute purity and cleanliness, but it is simply porous dough, and has not got the flavour of fermented bread. The plant, too, is very expensive, which renders it impossible for the ordinary baker to adopt it.

Certainly, machinery has been applied with very great advantage to the manufacture of another kind of bread, on which they that go down upon the sea in ships were wont to depend—namely, ship’s biscuits. Badly made of bad materials, and ofttimes full of weevils were they, so hard that they had to be soaked in some liquid before they could be eaten, or else broken up and boiled with the pea soup.

Up to the year 1833 the ships of the Royal Navy were supplied with biscuits made at Gosport by gangs of five men, severally named the furner, the mate, the driver, the brakeman, and the idleman. The driver made the dough in a trough with his naked arms. The rough dough was then placed on a wooden platform, to be worked by the brakeman, who kneaded it by riding and jumping on it. Then it was taken to a moulding board, cut into slips, moulded by hand, docked, or pierced full of holes, and pitched into the oven by the joint action of the gang. The nine ovens in the Royal Clarence Victualling Yard required the labour of 45 men to keep them in full operation, and the product was about 14cwt. of biscuit per hour, at a cost for labour and utensils of 1s. 7d. per cwt. This system was superseded by machinery, and biscuits have been for many years past produced with almost incredible rapidity, perfect in kneading, moulding, and baking, and at a cost for labour and utensils of less than a third of the old outlay.

CHAPTER XII.
THE RELIGIOUS USE OF BREAD.

Of the many breads that are not in common use, that used in the celebration of the Communion should be placed first. There seems no room for doubt that, at the Last Supper, our Lord broke unleavened bread—St Luke xxii. is, apparently, conclusive on this point; and, to this day, the whole Latin, Armenian, and Maronite Churches use unleavened bread, and it is also used in many churches of the Anglican communion. Dr. Lee16 says: ‘The Ethiopic Christians also use unleavened bread at their Mass on Maundy Thursday, but leavened bread on other occasions. The Greek and other Oriental Churches use leavened bread, which is especially made for the purpose, with scrupulous care and attention. The Christians of St. Thomas likewise make use of leavened bread, composed of fine flour, which, by an ancient rule of theirs, ought to be prepared on the same day upon which it is to be consecrated. It is circular in shape, stamped with a large cross, the border being edged with smaller crosses, so that, when it is broken up, each fragment may contain the holy symbol. In the Roman Catholic Church the bread is made thin and circular, and bears upon it either the impressed figure

of the crucifix, or the letters I.H.S. Pope St. Zephyrinus, who lived in the third century, terms the Sacramental bread, Corona sive oblata, sphericæ, figuræ, “a crown, or oblation, of a spherical figure,” the circle being indicative of the Divine presence after consecration. The Orientals, occasionally, make their altar breads square, on which is stamped a cross, with an inscription. The square form of the bread is a mystical indication that, by the sacrifice of Christ upon the cross, salvation is purchased for the four comers of the earth.’ And Dr. Lee gives illustrations of the altar bread, or wafers, in use in the Latin, Armenian, Coptic, and Greek Churches.

It seems certain that, in the Primitive Church, neither unleavened bread nor wafers were used. Ancient writers say that the bread used was common bread, such as was made for their own use. It was also a charge against the Ebionites that they celebrated in unleavened bread and water only. The bread generally used was called fermentum, and though this is explained by the schoolmen, who claimed primitive custom for unleavened bread, as the eulogia, or panis benedictus, which was blessed for such as did not communicate, Pope Innocent I. plainly says that it refers to the Sacrament itself. Moreover, no Greek writer before Michael Cerularius, who lived A.D. 1051, objected to the use of unleavened bread in the Roman Church, which would seem to show that it was not extensively used before that time. Even some Roman writers speak of the custom as erroneous.

How the change in this matter was made, and the exact time when, is not easily determined. Cardinal Bona’s conjecture seems probable enough: that it crept in when the people began to leave off making their oblations in common bread. This occasioned the clergy to provide it themselves, and they, under pretence of decency and respect, brought it from leaven to unleaven, and from a loaf of common bread, that might be broken, to a nice and delicate wafer, formed in the figure of a denarius, or penny, to represent the pence for which our Saviour was betrayed; and then, also, the people, instead of offering a loaf of bread, as formerly, were ordered to offer a penny, which was either to be given to the poor, or to be expended upon something pertaining to the sacrifice of the altar.

The alteration in the Communion bread occasioned great disputes between the Eastern and Western Churches.

The first Common Prayer Book of Edward VI. enjoins unleavened bread to be used throughout the whole kingdom for the celebration of the Eucharist. It was ordered to be round, in imitation of the wafers used in the Greek and Roman Churches; but it was to be without all manner of print, the wafers usually having the impression either of a crucifix or the Holy Lamb; and something more large and thicker than the wafers, which were the size of a penny. This rubric, affording matter for scruple, was set aside at the review of the Liturgy, in the fifth year of King Edward; and another inserted in its room, which still exists, by which it is declared sufficient that the bread be such as is usually eaten.

It was the custom in Westminster Abbey, and in the Royal chapels, and the practice of such men as Bishop Andrewes, to use wafers, but ‘for peace sake,’ where wafers were objected to, plain and pure wheaten bread was allowed. It has been decided by the Privy Council that it not only may, but must, be common bread; the Injunctions, according to them, being of no validity against the rubric; while the Advertisements, having been made under Act of Parliament, and not contrary to the rubric, are an indication of its meaning—i.e., of the word ‘retained in the Ornaments rubric.’

The bread now used is common wheaten bread in most Protestant Churches. In some Presbyterian Churches a special kind of wafer is prepared for the purpose. In the Roman Church thin wafers are used. In the Eastern Churches they are of different sizes and thicknesses.

They are thus classified by the Rev. F. E. Brightman in Liturgies Eastern:

1. Byzantine; a round leavened cake 5 × 2 in., stamped with a square (2 in.); itself divided by a cross into four squares in which are severally inscribed IC, XC, NI, KA.

2. The Syrian Jacobite and Syrian Uniat; a round cake, leavened with the holy leaven, 3 × 3/4, stamped like a wheel with four diameters (the alternate radii being cut off half way from the circumference by a concentric circle).

3. The Marionite; the Latin unleavened wafer.

4. The Coptic; a round leavened cake, 3-1/2 × 3/4, stamped round the edge with the legend, Αγιος ο θεος, αγιος ισχυρος, αγιος αθανατος, and within with a cross consisting of twelve little squares, each of which and the remaining spandrels are marked with a little cross placed diagonally.

5. The Abyssinian; a flat round leavened cake, 4 × 3/4, stamped with a cross of nine squares with four squares added in the angles of the cross.

6. The Nestorian; a round leavened cake, 2 × 1/2, stamped with a cross-crosslet and four small crosses.

7. The Armenian; a round unleavened wafer, 3 × 1/8, stamped with an ornamental border, the crucifix and the sacred name and sometimes with two diameters at right angles to the back.

In regard to the Protestant Non-Episcopal Churches, it is stated in Herzog’s Religious Encyclopædia that the administration follows one of two types. These are the Lutheran and the Calvinistic. In the Lutheran, the elements are consecrated with the sign of the cross, a wafer of unleavened bread is given whole to the communicant, and white wine, instead of red, is used. The communicants kneel and receive the elements into their mouths instead of their hands. The Calvinistic type simplifies the service as much as possible, and assimilates it to a common meal. ‘In the French Reformed Church the elements are placed—the bread in two silver dishes, and the wine in two silver cups—on a table spread with a white linen cloth. From twenty-five to thirty communicants approach the table at a time. The officiating minister makes a free prayer, and then, while repeating the words of institution, presents the elements to his neighbours on the left and on the right, after which the dish and the cup pass from hand to hand. With various modifications this type has been adopted by all the Reformed (Non-Episcopal) Churches.’

This is practically the method adopted in most of the British Non-Episcopal Churches; instead, however, of the communicants coming forward to the table, they remain in their pews, the bread and wine being handed round by elders or deacons. In the American Non-Episcopal Churches the same plan is usually adopted.

These divergencies of method illustrate the strange fact in the Christian life, that around the simple and beautiful institution of the Lord’s Supper there have raged the fiercest controversies in religious history. So divergent are the views held about it, that the Roman Catholic Church asserts that in every celebration of the Mass our Saviour is again actually offered as a sacrifice, and the bread and wine become the actual body and blood of the Lord, this miracle of transformation being wrought through the consecrating prayer of the priest. The Quakers, at the other extreme, do not observe the service at all, and do not consider it to be a binding ordinance. Here, as so often in life, the truth lies between the extremes. The bread and the wine are the symbols of our Lord’s body and blood. We do not feed on Him by the mere physical eating of the consecrated elements, but we partake of Him through faith as we remember that His body was broken for us, and His blood shed for the remission of our sins. His own loving command as He sat at the table with His disciples was, ‘This do in remembrance of Me,’ and it is through fellowship with Him in spirit—in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross at Calvary—that ‘we feed on Him in our hearts by faith with thanksgiving.’

There is a semi-sacred bread eaten by the English race, and by no one else—the hot-cross bun—millions of which are devoured in England on Good Friday. Its origin is obscure, as is also that of the word ‘bun.’ Most dictionaries derive it from the old French bigne, or bugne—a swelling; but it certainly occurs in an early Promptorium Parvulorum, as ‘bunne-brede.’ Anent ‘Eating Buns on Good Friday,’ a correspondent in the Athenæum of April 4, 1857, p. 144, wrote: