From Scratch

Many years ago, I spent a week or so at an equestrian center in rural Ireland. At every meal we were served thin slices of the most delicious, almost nutty-tasting, whole wheat soda bread, called simply “brown bread .”  It was made daily by a wonderful baker and cook named Nuala. She was happy to share the recipe, but warned that she baked in quantity and used metrics. I was confident I could convert all that and scale the recipe.

We sat by a blazing fire one evening and she began telling me how to make it. “First,” she said, “take nine handfuls of porridge oats.”

“Wait,” I said. Our hands were about the same size. “Do you  mean greedy handfuls or polite?”

“Somewhere in between.”

The milk was measured in pints, and it wasn’t till I was back in my tiny New York kitchen, trying to convert and scale, that I remembered their pints are 20 ounces, not 16. It took much longer to come up with a usable recipe than I anticipated, but I finally worked out a formula. I don’t think Nuala would mind that I now call it my brown bread. This is more akin to a Northern Ireland bread, and since we were just a stone’s throw from the border, the influence is understandable.

About soda breads

They’re so prevalent in Ireland that baking soda is called bread soda. What Americans consider to be soda bread is not traditional at all. Traditional soda bread has only four ingredients: flour, salt, buttermilk and bread soda. That’s it. No raisins, no sugar and it stales quickly. Most Americans aren’t crazy about it.

Quick, light handling is the secret to a good soda bread. Some people have the touch. Some never aquire it. If you’re lucky enough to have a great loaf fresh from the oven, slather on some butter, forget about the calories and enjoy it!