Rising to the occasion

Dad's Brilliant Brown Bread

I’ve just realised that my Dad rarely gets a mention in my blog-musings. Since yesterday was Father’s Day, it seems apposite that the subject of today’s post was inspired by him. His absence in my posts is no reflection on his importance in my life, it’s just that he doesn’t bake and most of my posts are cake related. He also takes a bit of a back seat in our girlie gatherings - though he frequently supplies the bottles of bubbly that keep us going, bless him - usually slipping away to the sofa with his book, Kindle or Pad as soon as the squealing and chatter gets too much for him. Not that he strays too far mind you (he has to be within hearing range of the gossip after all - Dad likes to know what's going on).

So who is my Dad? Well, when I think of him, I think of drugs (odd but true) – he’s a retired pharmacist and always knows what you need to take when you’re sick. Actually, I really should have said ‘medicine’, as I fear I now have you picturing him as either a twitchy drug-addict or a swaggering drug-dealer (sorry Dad). 

Making the brown soda

I also think of Spain, where he spends most of his time since he retired (yes, you’ve guessed it, the Costa del Sol, where all the dodgy drug barons go - Dad this coming out all wrong! To clarify, Dad is neither an addict nor a king pin dealer - hold the print Sunday Mirror).

Mostly when I think of my Dad, though, books come to mind (phew – think I’m safe on that one). Dad is a voracious reader (especially since he retired) and from the time I was very young, would buy me books for birthdays and Christmas. It’s Dad I have to thank for introducing me to J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis – who or where would I be now if I hadn’t had the pleasure of journeying into new worlds with the likes of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins in Middle Earth and the children from the 'Land of Spare Oom', who went through the wardrobe into Narnia? 

White soda with jam

Now to the inspiration: this weekend I fancied a bit of soda bread and ended up making two loaves – one white and one brown and the brown, which I made today, is one that Dad makes. Yes, I did say that Dad doesn’t bake, but ever since he went on a bit of a health kick a few years ago and had to cut down on the white bread, he learned how to make brown soda bread (so he could make it for himself while in Spain - very independent is my Dad). The recipe originally came from No.1 Sister but has now been tweaked and adapted by Dad for the perfect loaf. Tweaking and adapting is a true sign that you have mastered a recipe, which makes Dad the Master Brown Soda Bread Maker (No.1 Sister actually took Dad’s new and improved recipe back to replace hers, as his bread turned out better every time). 

I know Dad won’t mind me saying that it’s very easy to make and that, frankly, if he can do it anyone can (he’s nothing if not modest). Unlike yeast bread, there’s no temperamental yeasty antics, no waiting for the bread to prove and no kneading. Soda bread is also more versatile than you might imagine and certainly more than just brown vs. white. You could add some raisins or other dried fruit to the white, as I did yesterday, should you fancy a fruity loaf. Or you could make a savoury focaccia-style bread using cheese, olive oil and herbs (Rachel Allen has a lovely recipe here). Add chocolate and cinnamon or maybe crispy bacon - whatever takes your fancy. But really, there's nothing nicer than a slice of freshly baked, unadorned and unadulterated soda bread, spread with salted butter and perhaps some strawberry jam (my favourite on the white) or marmalade (ditto for the brown).

White fruity soda bread

The magic of soda bread is in the name - it relies on the chemical reaction between the bicarbonate of soda (a.k.a. bread soda) and an acidic liquid (such as buttermilk) to create lots of lovely bubbles that make the bread rise. It's also used in some cakes as a raising agent, either alone or alongside baking powder (and you'll see yoghurt, lemon juice, buttermilk or sour cream in these cake recipes for the same reason - all are acidic). The trick with soda bread, as with cakes, is to avoid over-mixing (which will make it tough and dense) and to get it in the oven quickly (before the rising action of the bicarb exhausts itself). 

It's quick to make - just mix the dry and wet ingredients (it literally takes minutes) and pop it into the oven for about 40-45 mins, either as a traditional round loaf on a baking sheet, or in a loaf tin (recipes below). Once it comes out of the oven, set it on a tea-towel, brush it with some milk and wrap it up in the tea-towel like an Egyptian bread mummy - this traps the steam, making the crust soft and slightly chewy rather than hard and sharp enough to cut the roof of your mouth (I go for a mummified loaf every time to save on cuts and grazes, but the choice is yours). The only time you have to spend twiddling your thumbs is while you wait for it to be cool enough to cut. As with all breads, it's best eaten on the day it's baked while it's still pillowy soft, but freezes beautifully and makes lovely toast.

So Happy Father's Day to my wonderful Dad. Thank you for sharing your recipe and your delicious bread, and for not minding that everyone who reads this blog now suspects you're a drug-baron gangster, holed up on the Costa!

White Soda Bread 

The way I always remember the measurements for a white soda bread is as follows: 1lb plain flour, 1 tsp each of bicarb of soda, sugar and salt, and enough buttermilk to make a soft dough. To bring things into the 21st century and help out those of you who need a little more assistance than that, here's the recipe in metric, with a proper method to follow: 

Ingredients

• 400 g plain flour
• 1 tsp caster sugar
• 1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
• 1 tsp salt
• 350 ml buttermilk

Method

Preheat the oven to 230C/210C fan. 

Sift the dry ingredients into a large bowl (this makes sure they're properly mixed and you won't have any bicarb lumps, which taste awful). Make a well in the centre and pour in most of the buttermilk (leaving about 60ml in the measuring jug). The traditional approach to mixing is to use one hand with your fingers outstretched like a claw, bring the flour and liquid together, adding more buttermilk if necessary. You can do as I do (and as my Mam taught me) and just use a fork if you prefer though. Don't knead the mixture or it will become heavy. The dough should be soft but not too wet and sticky (unless you're putting it in a loaf tin, in which case, a slightly wetter, sticky dough will be just fine and will give a lovely light texture to the bread).

If you're making it as a traditional round, when the dough comes together, turn onto a floured work surface and bring together a little more. Pat the dough into a round about 4cm deep and cut a deep cross in the top (to let the fairies out). 

Place the dough onto a baking tray and bake in the oven for 15 minutes, then turn down the heat to 200C and bake for a further 30. When ready, the loaf will sound slightly hollow when tapped on the base and be golden in colour. If you like a softer crust, brush with milk and wrap in a tea-towel to  cool, otherwise just allow to cool on a wire rack before serving. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dad's Brilliant Brown Soda Bread

Ingredients

• 200 g white flour
• 100 g wholemeal flour
• 100 g oats
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
• 1.25 tsp salt
• A handful each of oat bran and wheat germ
• 1 egg
• 350 ml buttermilk
• 1 tablespoon of black treacle

Method

Preheat the oven to 190C fan. Line a loaf tin with baking parchment.

Place all of the dry ingredients in a large bowl, making sure to sift the bicarb to remove any lumps. Make a well in the centre, add the egg and drizzle in the treacle. Pour in most of the buttermilk, leaving about 60ml in the measuring jug (which you can then add to the mix if need be). Mix as for the white soda bread above (given the stickiness of treacle, I would recommend using a fork or wooden spoon here - the latter being Dad's tool of choice). The dough should be quite sticky, so add more buttermilk if you need to. 

Scrape the dough out of the bowl and into the lined loaf tin, scattering some oat flakes on top if you like. Bake in the oven for 40-45 minutes. When ready, the loaf will sound slightly hollow when tapped on the base and be a toasty brown colour. If you like a softer crust, brush with milk and wrap in a tea-towel to cool, otherwise just allow to cool on a wire rack before serving.