Molasses Oat Bread -- Harold Deserves the Credit

This week I went through the sugarhouse properly — not for the talk exactly, but because the talk gave me a reason to look at things I have been passing by for thirty years without stopping. The sugarhouse my grandfather built in 1921 is still structurally the sugarhouse he built in 1921, minus repairs to the roof in 1969 and the south wall in 1988, after a winter that tried hard to cave it in. The evaporator is newer — we replaced the original in 1972, which feels like history now.

I found a photograph I had forgotten. My grandfather and three other men standing in front of the sugarhouse, probably the 1930s by the look of the coats. All four looking at the camera with the expression that men of that generation used for photographs: not hostile, not smiling, just present. My grandfather is on the left. He is forty or forty-five. He looks like my father looked at that age, which means he looks like me at sixty-five. This disturbs me slightly less than it might disturb someone who had not spent four decades teaching about mortality.

Helen found me with the photograph and asked who the other men were. I said I did not know. She said I should find out. She is right. I put that on my list of things to do in retirement that I will get around to eventually, which is the list that determines the difference between a man who is busy and a man who is simply not bored.

I tried a new bread this week — a pain de campagne, which is what the French call country bread, which Vermonters call bread. A starter I have been maintaining for three years (Helen named it Harold, which I think is a reasonable name for a sourdough starter), good flour, a long cold proof in the refrigerator overnight. The crust was excellent. The crumb was open enough. Helen said it was the best bread I had made. I said thank you. She said do not let it go to my head. I said Harold should get most of the credit. She said do not let Harold hear that.

The talk is next Monday. I am not nervous, which is starting to make me nervous. Thirty-eight years in a classroom and I still do not trust the absence of nerves before something that matters.

The pain de campagne I described above is Harold’s territory — a long, meditative bake that rewards patience the way a sugarhouse rewards a cold March morning. But if you want something that tastes like the Vermont countryside smells in mud season, something with the weight of oats and the dark sweetness of molasses, this is the loaf I come back to when I want bread that feels like it has been here before. It is not a complicated bread. It is an honest one.

Molasses Oat Bread

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 3 hours (including rise time) | Servings: 12 slices

Ingredients

• 1 cup rolled oats, plus extra for topping
• 1 1/2 cups boiling water
• 1/4 cup unsulfured molasses
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
• 1/4 cup warm water (105–115°F)
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar
• 2 1/2 to 3 cups all-purpose or bread flour
• 1 tablespoon milk or cream, for brushing

Instructions

1. Soak the oats. In a large bowl, combine the rolled oats, boiling water, molasses, butter, and salt. Stir to combine and let stand until the mixture has cooled to lukewarm, about 30 minutes. The oats will absorb most of the water and the butter will melt in.
2. Proof the yeast. In a small bowl, dissolve the sugar in the warm water, then sprinkle the yeast over the top. Let stand 5 to 10 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, your yeast is spent — start with a fresh packet.
3. Build the dough. Stir the proofed yeast mixture into the cooled oat mixture. Add flour one cup at a time, stirring until a shaggy dough forms. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8 to 10 minutes, adding flour as needed, until the dough is smooth, slightly tacky, and springs back when poked.
4. First rise. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, turn to coat, and cover with a clean kitchen towel or plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm spot until doubled, about 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
5. Shape and pan. Punch down the dough and shape it into a loaf. Place in a greased 9x5-inch loaf pan. Cover loosely and let rise again until the dough crowns about an inch above the rim of the pan, about 45 minutes.
6. Preheat and top. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Brush the top of the loaf gently with milk or cream and scatter a small handful of rolled oats over the surface, pressing them lightly so they adhere.
7. Bake. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until the crust is deep brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. An instant-read thermometer inserted in the center should read 190 to 200°F.
8. Cool. Turn out onto a wire rack and cool for at least 20 minutes before slicing. The crumb will set as it cools — cutting too early produces a gummy interior, which is a disappointment worth avoiding.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 35g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 295mg