I remember well the evenings when Grandmother would carefully place her canning jar, half full with her salt rising bread starter, on top of the pilot light of her gas-heated hot water tank. The tank sat in a small closet in her kitchen, providing just the right temperature needed for the starter to work. The whole family was thrilled when the next morning would greet us with that familiar stinky smell, indicating that we’d all be eating salt rising bread in just a few more hours.
Although I had attempted to make salt rising bread when I was a teenager, it wasn’t until I was married and raising a family of my own that I got serious about making this wonderful bread. It was a family tradition that I definitely wanted to carry on. Carefully following one after another of Grandmother’s handwritten salt rising bread recipes, I tried and failed and tried again. As I did so, I pictured Grandmother’s beautifully gnarled hands making her bread, as I had seen so many times before and, eventually, I got it!
When I’m missing my grandmother and wishing we could sit together once again on her porch swing, I recall a favorite memory of going to her house on Saturday mornings to have breakfast with her. When I arrived at her back door, she would already be making bacon, fried eggs over-easy, and toasted salt rising bread. I remember those days as if they were yesterday, and my heart fills with love, gratitude, and pride . . . and I miss her even more.
Pearl Haines
Pearl Haines
I [Jenny] first met Pearl at Shannon Run Church, down the road from our farmhouse. It was Pearl and her extended family that welcomed us with open arms. We were newcomers to the area, recently arrived from up North with a new baby in tow. The Haineses were our mentors and taught us all kinds of country wisdom that one needs to succeed in a rural setting. I remember one crisp autumn day I drove up the curvy road to their house at the top of the hill and there was Pearl, along with her daughter Martha and daughter-in-law Twyla, out in front of their farmhouse making soap from hog’s fat. The three of them were working around a fire with a large kettle on it and steam rising out of the boiling lard. In the background were the steep, deciduous hillsides surrounding them, ablaze with fall colors of red, orange and yellow leaves swirling all around. They graciously allowed me to help in the process.
Later, we shared some delicious food in Pearl’s kitchen, and that is where I encountered my first loaf of salt rising bread. I had to ask many questions about this marvelous-tasting bread. As a professionally trained baker, this was the first time I had heard of risen bread made without yeast or without a sourdough starter. I was love-struck in more ways than one. Pearl was so kind as to show me how to make the starter and how to recognize a successful fermentation, and she told a great story, as well. Pearl was an historian in her own right. Her facial expressions, her body movement, and her words helped make the rich but simpler past come alive, in juxtaposition with the modern-day reality in front of us.
Why are we so enchanted with this delicious bread? Perhaps it is the mystique about it that appeals to us – its puzzling behavior that can try the most patient of bakers’ souls. Early American life was filled with mysterious “unknowns.” Through religion and superstition, people were able to make sense of such things as the unusual weather, the locust outbursts and childhood diseases. Salt rising bread fit right in with its penchant for unpredictability. In today’s world, on the other hand, salt rising’s often-frustrating behavior offers a welcome counterpoint to the many aspects of our modern day life that are rote, predictable and endlessly analyzed. As absurd as it sounds, 21st century bakers like ourselves really don’t understand much more about how it works and why failures occur than the pioneer women did.
For Jenny, the occasional failures of salt rising bread at Rising Creek Bakery have been by far the hardest aspect of being its proprietor. It is a source of pride to be specializing in authentic salt rising bread and making it available after its long absence. So when a batch of bread fails to work, it is a terrible feeling to disappoint customers – people who may have traveled 50 miles along back roads after working all day, just to buy a loaf.
Yet, we feel deeply that the failures associated with making salt rising bread play an integral role in its appeal. How often does a person get to work through a challenge that is so totally in the hands of nature? We revel in the excitement of discovering how and why salt rising bread works. As bakers, we have discovered that the success of a batch of this bread occurs mostly when we are in tune with the wild microbes and with the earth’s rhythms of the seasons. When the dough won’t rise, tradition tells us it might be because of the falling barometer or a rushing cold wind outside or the moon pointing down. Or the baker’s being pregnant! Now, that is mysterious!
We bring to this book what we have discovered, both in close partnership and as individuals. Susan’s perspective is that of a native daughter of Appalachia and the inheritor of a long family tradition of baking salt rising bread – which in many instances became our calling card for gaining the trust of the dozens of elder bakers we interviewed. Our book also benefits from Susan’s collection of recipes for salt rising bread, going back to the 18th century. Jenny’s perspective is that of a professional baker with deep respect for her craft and a scientist’s curiosity and drive to know more (when we write about “the bakery,” it is often Jenny’s voice you are hearing). And sometimes, one or the other of us will leave a note with her own comment about a topic being discussed. We feel that our combined energies and experiences make this a more complete exploration than either of us might have achieved alone.
Many secrets of salt rising bread are yet to be revealed. In the pages that follow, we attempt to solve some of the mysteries of this nearly lost, very American tradition.
Glossary
Emptins – “a liquid leavening usually made at home from potatoes or hops and kept from one baking to the next” (Merriam-Webster) . . . possibly the first version of a salt rising bread starter
Indian meal (or meal) – the name the Colonial settlers gave to cornmeal
Knead – to work bread dough into a uniform mixture by pressing and folding the dough with your hands
Light dough – dough that has risen and doubled in size
Meal – see Indian meal
Middlings – poor or coarsely-ground flour
Pinch – equal to 1/8 teaspoon
Proofer – a warm, moist chamber where bread dough is placed for the purpose of encouraging the fermentation and rising of the dough
Railroad yeast – An early type of starter. There are different versions in different cookbooks; an early version from the late 1800s uses ginger. Several early 1900s cookbooks describe it as a mixture of cake yeast, potatoes, salt, sugar, and water that is allowed to set overnight or longer. Yet other recipes describe the source as coming from the brewing process.
Raisin’ or Risin’ or Rising – other names for a salt rising bread starter
Saleratus – a form of potassium or sodium bicarbonate, either manufactured or found naturally on the ground
Scald – to heat to a temperature just short of the boiling point
Warm place – an area or place for raising a starter, sponge or bread dough that is around 104 - 110°F (40-44°C)
Wild