‘The object of unparalleled worship’

The History is Bread is a magnificent book developed and penned by Bernard Dupaigne and published by Harry N. Abrams.

I spotted it in a Sydney bookstore several weeks before I could afford to buy it – and even at $A79 (discounted from $A135!) I thought the cover price was steep.

But if, as they say, you get what you pay for, books don’t often come this good, this well written or superbly illustrated – especially if bread floats your boat.

Dupaigne opens his forward with the words: ‘Bread is the symbol of shared food, the very essence of life. It is the fruit of protracted toil and is deeply anchored in our civilization . . . Bread is the object of unparalleled worship and decorum.’

Amen, brother! Couldn’t have put it any better myself.

As you’d expect, Dupaigne spends the first 121 pages sifting through the history of bread, kicking off with a one-page broad brushstroke of Middle Eastern coverage, interestingly making a very early connection between bread and brewing.

He then moves onto the Egyptians and their pharaohs, before heading on to the Greeks, then the Romans, then into the darkening Middle Ages before side-tracking to bread in the French Revolution (as you would, if you’re a French writer), before ending in the modern bakery.

This section also covers major grains, breads without grains, the fortunes of wheat, milling, ovens, nomadic breads and other tasty stuff.

Other major sections of this 256-page tome cover the symbolism of bread, French breads and baking in more detail, breads of the world, and ends with a short selection of recipes.

With 500 illustrations, including some 250 mouth-watering plates, this book is simply too delicious to ever open in your hard-working kitchen!

Other details: the translation (from the original French) is by Antonio and Sylvie Roder. The History of Bread was first published in 1999. The ISBN is 0 8109 3438 8.

Now . . . go for it! You can’t be disappointed!

Loafing – on the Italian job

Now if there’s one thing my gals have always liked – even before they were able to stand erect without nosediving - it’s olives. Kalamatas, green ones, stuffed ones, pitted ones, big ones, little ones. And the bigger the jar the better.

The fact their Mum’s got Italian blood flowing through her veins - not too far from the surface - may have something to do with it (doesn’t explain my predilection to the savoury buggers, though).

So, when I suggested I’d knock out an olive loaf over the weekend, I was almost bowled over in the rush!

I must say for a first effort, she wasn’t a half-bad 750gm loaf!

So here goes . . . You’ll need the following:

* 310 mls of tepid tap water

* 2 tspns of virgin olive oil

* 1 3/4 tpns of salt

* 450 gms of plain flour

* 1 tspn of bread improver

* ¼ cup of grated mozzarella cheese

* 2 tbspns of pitted and sliced kalamata olives

* 3 tspns of pesto paste (not too dry)

* 1 ¼ tspn of dry yeast

I added all the ingredients except the olives immediately to the water and oil in Bev’s baking pan, then set her on the French cycle for a medium crust.

Although tempted, I held off adding the olives until I heard Bev’s add-stuff beeps, eight minutes into the kneading process.

Anyway, cutting to the chase, the end result was delicious. The gals thought it was soft and not-at-all-dry as some Italian breads can tend to be. I put this down to the olive oil, the oil in the pesto and residual oil in the olives.

The crown sagged just a tad, and I put that down to a little too much salt; next time I’ll try just 1 ½ tspns of salt, and allow the saltiness of the kalamatas do the rest.

If you have any meat-etarians in the house, you can add 2 tbspns of finely chopped pepperoni – but again, I’d be thinking of cranking back the salt. Or if yours is a full-on veggie mob, substitute 1 tbspn of finely chopped sundried tomatoes for the sausage.

All in all, not a shabby effort . . . and she tasted even better the following morning for breakfast!