Granddad's Bread

Granddad’s Bread

Henry was in charge of the young’uns, his grandkids for the day, well ‘in charge’ were his official words, while most would mundanely call it ‘child minding’. It wouldn’t be difficult, the kids enjoy walks down to the river, making splashes with stones, climbing up the gravel heaps and perhaps lighting a bonfire. The fresh air does them the world of good and physical activity is what helps them sleep and night – well that’s the theory.

They’re good kids, Blue, nine and Lacie not far past her sixth birthday. Actually they’re well-able to entertain themselves by writing stories, drawing pictures, reading, doing puzzles and playing board games. Henry enjoys watching the odd DVD with them, although some are over and over and over… but their parents limit screen time in preference to actual fun.

‘Let’s cook a cake!’ Lacie suggested brightly, always testing and always keen to learn new things. The idea brought back memories of old black and white movies Henry had seen when he was a nipper about monkeys or bears getting into people’s kitchens and the mess they made with flour or sugar going everywhere including over them! But still, he wasn’t about to disappoint the kids, so he gave them the job of finding the recipe books. They looked everywhere, but they couldn’t find one anywhere! Which wasn’t surprising, because their granddad had told them to look in the wrong places. He doesn’t like following recipes.

‘Well,’ said Henry, putting on his remembering hat, ‘I used to cook bread in a camp oven, maybe we can cook some bread.’

‘We can’t cook bread!’ Lacie screwed up her nose.

‘Yes we can,’ affirmed Henry, ‘but I have to remember back fifty years how we made it, but don’t worry, what I can’t remember, we’ll make up.’

A second thought popped into his head. ‘Where on earth would the yeast be?’ he thought, knowing they hadn’t used it for years.

‘What do we have to do?’ asked Blue showing some enthusiasm wielding a wooden spoon from the drawer.

‘Lacie, you look for a big basin and a big cake tin.’ Granddad put them to work. ‘Blue, do you know where the flour is?’ He thought he could trust Blue with it.

Blue shrugged, no.

Henry showed him where the flour was while gathering milk powder, sugar, salt and baking powder. Yeast was the problem. He scratched his head thinking, and remembered one of the boys was going to try his hand at brewing beer, full of enthusiasm he had bought the equipment but for some reason had never got around to actually brewing anything. The gear must be somewhere... He told the kids to look out for a brown jar with DYC on it. But they hunted in all the unlikely places spending more time laughing than looking – and acting the goat with some of Henry’s ‘bits and pieces’! Left to Henry, he at last found it on the bottom shelf of the laundry cabinet, right at the back. What it was doing there he had no idea, but thought nothing more about it once it was to hand.

‘Ok, here we go,’ said granddad, ‘Blue, can you bring me a small pot?’

Into the pot, Lacie measured some warm water, two cups. Blue, as instructed, put in two tablespoons of sugar, Henry wasn’t sure that sugar should go in but was prepared to gamble on his memory. Blue stirred it until it was dissolved, then Henry had second thoughts so started again adding just two teaspoons instead. He sprinkled in one of the jar’s capful of yeast, and with a shrug added another half capful. After a cursory stir, they put in the sun to do its thing. He noticed the use-by date was some three years earlier, but what do the manufacturers know?

‘Now Lacie, can you tip some flour to half-fill the cake tin?’ Henry asked.

Tongue sticking out, she filled the tin and spilt nearly as much on the table, but Blue helped her put it back – well most of it, the pair wore a good coating in the process! A bit like those naughty monkeys!

‘Good oh, that’s about the measure’ said Henry smiling, pleased to see the fun but not wanting things to get out of hand, ‘now tip it into the bowl – careful now!’

Blue did the tipping and most went in, so they scooped the rest up with their hands and plonked it into the bowl.

‘Did you guys wash your hands first?’ Henry knew by the guilty looks. ‘Too late now, I suppose the heat of cooking will kill any goobies - hopefully.’

By now the kids had flour up to their elbows and Lacie had some on the point of her nose and in her hair. And obviously Blue had wiped his hands on his shorts.

‘A mug of milk powder.’ Henry instructed eyeing the bowl, ‘Actually make it a mug and a bit and the same amount of sugar.’ He nodded to Blue.

Blue managed all that without incident.

‘Lacie, can you put a teaspoon of salt in?’

All fingers and thumbs, she managed to spill some so Henry told her to toss a pinch of it over her shoulder and more than a few grains flew over and onto the floor. He never explained about the luck part.

‘Blue, can you gently put some baking powder in,’ said Henry, ‘same the same spoon Lacie used, its cheating a bit, but I’m not sure how good the yeast is. Baking powder will help fluff it up.’ They laughed at anything remotely referring to fart!

‘I’ll add some cinnamon and a couple of handfuls of raisins.’ Added Henry as the kids watched, not sure if they liked raisins. He noticed they were dubious, so he stopped.

They checked the yeast and it had bubbled and swelled like a good chemistry experiment.

‘In with your hands and mix up all the stuff in the bowl.’ granddad instructed.

The kids enjoyed mixing and spilling and wearing.

‘Keep that up,’ said Henry, ‘while I add the yeast mix. It’ll be a bit like play dough.’

Slowly the mix stiffened with no dry bits, so Henry divided the dough and they each kneaded their bit as he demonstrated on the floured table. Lacie was getting a bit tired so her granddad added her’s to his pile.

‘While we are doing this Lacie, can you put a spoonful of butter in the cake tin?’ Henry asked.

Soon the dough was in good shape, so they left it in the sun while Henry spread the butter thinly over the inside of the cake tin. ‘We don’t want the bread to stick.’ He explained to them.

Together Blue and Lacie plopped the dough into the cake tin and patted it lightly.

‘Ok, we’ll sit on top of the oven and let it rise, before we pop it in the oven - I used to cook it over a fire-coals with coals on the lid.’ Henry told them, knowing they would’ve liked to do that too.

When the dough had risen nicely, showing the yeast was still working, Henry popped it in the hot oven and they watched through the glass door as the bread rose, turned brown and developed a mirthful crack on top. The smell was enticing, so once the bread was out of the oven, the three went down to the river and picnicked on hot bread with lashings of butter and raspberry jam – Nana’s latest batch! The kids tossed the few raisins they found into the river as their granddad gave them false frowns.

When Mum and Dad arrived back with Nana, they too enjoyed the fresh bread, but it’s never as good when it’s cooled down. They had arrived too early and were greeted with the mess and unwashed utensils and a floured table. As a reward, ‘for being good,’ Mum and Nana tidied the kitchen while Henry and the kids fed the sheep some sheep-nuts.