Literrata: Folklore: Foodways/ How to make Irish Soda Bread

Tuesday, December 4, 2001

Folklore: Foodways/ How to make Irish Soda Bread

Genre: Folk saying/narrative/ Foodways, Irish Maureen Hurley
English-speaking Irish-American
December, 4, 2001

“Too many cooks spoil the broth,” “two people, three opinions,”
or how to make Irish soda bread without WW III erupting.

The tradition of making Irish soda bread in my family for guests has its roots in Bantry Bay, Co. Cork, southern Ireland, where my ancestors made it in over a turf fire in a Dutch oven. According to my grandmother, Jennie Walsh Reilly (b. 1893), who raised me in San Francisco, and later in Forest Knolls, Ca. (in the ‘50s), serving Irish soda bread and piping hot tea to guests was an absolute must, no matter what.

Because there is a correct procedure in which to make it, there was always plenty of contention among my grandmother’s sisters, Peig and Ceit, as to the proper sugar/ fat/ leavening ratio. My grandmother would frequently retort, “too many cooks spoil the broth,” or more rarely, “two people, three opinions.”

The purists wouldn’t use baking powder, only baking soda (I remember when my grandmother began to use baking powder, a big concession), some were guilty of over sugaring the dough. Another (God forbid!) used Crisco (taboo) instead of butter.

How three sisters, who got this recipe from their mother—and who quickly followed each other to the United States, each bringing the next sibling out the following year in the “teens”—could have developed such radical variations in making soda bread, is baffling. Whenever one visited the other, either arguments erupted whenever soda bread was served, or snide remarks about its lack of merit, were muttered under breath. I suspect that the brouhaha had something to do with maintaining tradition and issues of proper Celtic hospitality customs.

I tend to think my grandmother’s recipe is the correct one as she was the eldest daughter, and so learned it first. Her eldest daughter, my aunt Jane (73), has also changed the recipe; she insists it’s the correct one, that mine is wrong (but I have it in my grandmother’s spidery handwriting.) But arguments still flare up whenever the recipe’s mentioned. Jane uses too much baking powder and too much sugar.

I bet some of the sibling disagreement had to do with the fact that baking powder is a New World invention, and that using baking soda would be more authentic. (But according to food historians, bicarbonate of baking soda wasn’t used in cooking until a couple hundred years ago, in 1843).

Does that mean quickbreads are a recent invention? No. Delving deeper, I found that soda ash aka washing soda, sodium carbonate/carbonate of soda was used as a leavening agent in the 1790s. But it was also used as a flux for glassmaking and soldering jewelry for at least 5000 years. Not to mention all that laundry. Why not use it in cooking too?

Then it dawned on me that tracking chemical leavening use is obscure because of Passover or Easter. No yeast leavened bread allowed during Passover or Lent? The workaround was washing soda. Take pretzels invented by a wily peckish monk wanting a bit of bread during Lent in 610AD. Flour, water, and soda ash. No yeast. Ah, apocryphal stories waiting to be debunked. I found an earlier precedent of three-fold pretzel making which means using soda ash in cookery has ancient roots.

You might also add pretzel’s progeny, bagels to the bread hagiography list, invented ca. 1200AD. Yeah, yeah, it was used on the outside as a browning agent via Maillard reaction. But my point is that cooks used soda ash for a variety of recipes. Like making shirakaki and ramen noodles. Now we also use bicarbonate of soda as a browning agent—to tenderize and brown meat too.

But I digress. We do know that commercially available carbonate of soda which needed to be activated with water, was used as leavening agent in the 1800s. (See recipe below). My grandmother said they substituted white wood ash (aka soda ash), pearlash or potash (or even muriatic acid) if they didn’t have baking soda.)

My grandmother said caraway was a necessary ingredient—something to do with ancestors and the returning of the sun. For that reason, it’s also called Irish freckle bread. There were always plenty of people wanting my grandmother’s recipe for Irish bread. Whenever there’s a party or a Celtic event at UCB, I’m pressed upon to bring my soda bread.

When we went through my absentee father’s things after he died 7 years ago, we found my grandmother’s handwritten recipe, she had given him during a rare visit, some 30 years before, carefully tucked away beneath the car visor flap. What was odd, was that the recipe, which was used (it had fat stains), was obviously transferred to his new car and we know he was on at least his third or fourth car. Why he carried the recipe there, we haven’t a clue.

THE CORRECT WAY TO MAKE JENNY WALSH REILLY’S IRISH SODA BREAD

An hour and a half before guests arrive, measure
2 and 1/2 cups unbleached white bread flour
(you may also substitute a little stone-ground whole wheat flour
and/or a 1/2 cup of oat flour for extra nuttiness; but grind it in a coffee grinder first.)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder (make sure it isn’t damp)
1 scant tablespoon sugar

Mix dry ingredients together.
add 1/2 cup raisins, or currants, but coat them well with flour so they won’t sink to the bottom
1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds (optional)

Preheat oven to 400° and grease a small 6˝ to 8˝ round cast-iron skillet with butter, douse it liberally with flour so the bread won’t stick.

In another bowl, mix together:
1/3 cup melted butter, or oil (but dough will be wetter, add more flour)
1 beaten extra large egg
1 cup good quality fresh tart buttermilk; don’t use the synthetic stuff

Pour wet ingredients into flour mixture. Work very quickly as the soda reacts with the buttermilk to create the gas which gives this bread its loft. Fold ingredients gently with a spatula or spoon until just barely moistened. Mixture should be very stiff and dry. Don’t develop gluten by overstirring, otherwise it will be tough.

Flip dough into skillet so that it’s nicely heaped up. Don’t pat it smooth. It should look like a craggy mountain. With a greased knife, cut the sign of the cross for the Savior or St. Brighid (four farls) on it, and immediately place it on the top shelf of the 400° oven. Bake 15 minutes at 400°; reduce head to 350°; bake for 45 minutes, or until done when an inserted knife (or clean broom straw) comes out clean. (Option: drizzle top of bread with melted butter and sprinkle surface with rolled oats before baking.) Makes one loaf.

Recipe may be successfully doubled, but use slightly less less baking powder or it will taste metallic. (This is also true of your buttermilk isn’t up to snuff; the tarter, the better.)

Invert the loaf onto breadboard, let it rest a few minutes before serving. Bring to the table wrapped in a clean tea towel and serve farls slathered with generous portions of butter and jam, and gallons of piping hot tea with cream and sugar. (A drop or two of whiskey for the tea is optional).