The interesting thing about this recipe is it uses a sponge, and I am not terribly familiar with the use of sponges in bread making. I normally just dissolve my yeast in warm water, let it bloom, and move on with my life. I'm enjoying learning the nuances of this, though, and this particular project was especially interesting as it rested all night, which I'm certain helped soften the oats.
This recipe calls for a cup of "Scottish oats", also known as "steel cut", "pin oats", "Irish Oatmeal", and so on. Rather than smashing the oats flat when they're processed, they are cut into small bits, about the size of the little beads on the end of many sewing needles.
(That's a penny, for calibration)
So, to make this sponge, you pour boiling water over the chopped oats, add some flour and some sugar and the yeast, mix it up really good, and stick it in the fridge overnight. (I live in Indiana, and I was thinking about "life before refrigeration" as I was mixing this up last night. I think setting it off to the side away from the hearth but inside the home, well covered so no curious cats/dogs/whatever tipped it over, would have worked, too, but setting it "outside", even in some kind of storage hut, would be bad.. the yeast would freeze to death.. ha! Bad! The idea appears to create a SLOW yeast fermentation process, not kill the yeastie-beasties from hypothermia!). In the morning, you have this foamy, frothy goo that's rather yeasty-smelling and sort of lumpy. Appetizing, no?
After that, it's much like any other bread. Add warm water or milk (I went with milk), a fat (in this case the recipe called for butter), some salt, and some flour, and mix and knead until it's a smooth, happy, elastic mass. this recipe also calls for a little ginger, and I think that's a delightful thing to use, so I added it. The oats are very noticable in this dough. They are definitely softened by the soaking process, but they in no way disintegrate into the dough, as you can see here:
Once the dough has risen and been punched down (see above), you knead it briefly on a floured surface and divide into three parts. I like to try new things. I have a couple of different baking pans, so for this I went with my "regular" metal loaf pan, a silicone loaf pan (we met these in the Shaker bread project) and a fluted pan which I normally use as a form for bread baskets by tipping them upside down and draping the dough *over* them. It's the holiday season, though, so I thought we'd try this and see if this turns out a pretty, semi-decorative loaf.
I like simple, round (or oval) loaves, but variety is a lovely thing. It adds visual interest to a feast table, for sure, and it can provide a simple way to differentiate between types of breads, especially useful if you have people with particular allergies. "The braids have cinnamon, the twists have barley..." etc. In this case, I am just experimenting, since we'll eat these here at home, unless a loaf somehow survives until A&S night tomorrow night! (Miracles DO happen, sometimes....) So, the little loaves are nestled in their pans, and we wait the requisite "until doubled" time. It's winter, and I keep my house fairly cool, so it takes a little longer (usually about an hour and forty-five minutes) for this stage of things.
As I waited for the dough to rise, I speculated on how common oat bread might have been during "period" eras. We know oats have been a foodstuff for an exceptionally long time. My persona is Viking-era Danish, and oats and oat cakes have been found in both grave finds and midden pit excavations. For the "statistical breakdown", however, I did some digging, and came across an article entitled, "Grain Yields on the Winchester Manors in the Later Middle Ages" by D.L. Farmer in the November 1977 edition of "Economic History Review" (Nov77, Vol. 30 Issue 4, p555-566, 12p, per an EBSCO database search. I love being a college student with access... ahhhhhh....). This article addresses the yield of wheat, barley and oats at various manors in the Winchester Bishopric of southern England, and averages the yields of the "most successful" manors, and compares them to the "least successful." It's an interesting read, and I recommend it on its own merits. For the purposes of this particular "I wonder...", however, it shows that wheat, barley and oats were harvested in more or less equal numbers of bushels, with exceptions in various years, due to environmental conditions, etc, and, in fact, oats and barley yields improved significantly in the period immediately following The Black Death, according to Farmer's data (the author speculates that wheat yields were adversely affected by a decline in available field workers during the time of the Black Death, although oat yields declined significantly in the late 15th century, according to this article, while wheat production grew by leaps and bounds). So, it stands to reason that oats would be a viable, and relatively common, foodstuff, so this bread is close enough for my purposes to being a viable "period-plausible" recipe. Huzzah!
It can be all too easy for me to get lost in research, and the timer buzzing ripped me from my perusals! Alas! The loaves were lovely and ready to go into the oven, though, so I brushed them with some melted butter and slid them into the oven, pouring some water into the metal pan on the bottom of the oven before closing the door. (I don't have a fancy steam-injected oven, but I love what steam does to the crusts!)
The fluted loaf finished baking first, as I'd used a smaller amount of dough, being uncertain exactly how it would respond (new dough, new pan, new technique...). It turned out super cute, however, and I think this has major potential as a "centerpiece loaf" perhaps in a bread basket with some honey butter beside it...
The "regular" loaves took about 15 minutes longer to bake, and I brushed them with some more melted butter when I pulled the fluted loaf out of the oven, as they were still very pale (and I like the rich buttery crust, anyway!). This particular bread did not rise/expand as much as the wheat ones do, so there's less difference in the shape/size of the loaves from the metal vs. silicone pans, too. (In the picture below, it's metal->fluted metal->silicone, in that order.)
My entire house smells amazing. The ginger is not really noticable, it's more of a hint of "something extra" in the bread. The texture is a little chewy, with the oat still very much noticable, but pleasantly so. It's a surprisingly light bread, too. Definitely a keeper!!
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