Alright, let’s get this straight. You wanna make some oat molasses bread, the Maine way? My way? Okay, then listen up, ‘cause I ain’t gonna say it twice. This ain’t no fancy city-folk bread with all them weird ingredients you can’t even pronounce. This is good, honest bread, the kind that fills your belly and warms you up on a cold day.
First off, you need flour. Not that bleached stuff, get the good stuff, the kind that feels heavy in your hands. Bread flour, they call it. Yeah, that’s the ticket. And you need oats, the whole kind, not that quick-cooking nonsense. A good big scoop of them, mind you. Don’t be stingy with the oats.
- Bread flour – a good amount, you know, like a big bowl full.
- Whole oats – don’t skimp, now.
- Molasses – the blackstrap kind, the darker the better.
- Yeast – the dry kind, in a little packet. Don’t use too much or your bread will taste funny.
- Salt – just a pinch, to make it taste right.
- Warm water – not too hot, not too cold, just right.
Now, the molasses. That’s the secret ingredient, see? You gotta use the blackstrap kind, the dark, thick stuff. It’s strong, but it gives the bread that good, deep flavor. Don’t go pourin’ in a whole jug, now. Just enough to make it sweet and dark, like a good cup of coffee.
And the yeast. That’s the stuff that makes the bread rise, makes it all light and fluffy. You get those little packets at the store. Don’t use too much, or your bread will taste like… well, like yeast. Just a little bit, and make sure your water is warm, not hot, or you’ll kill the poor little things.
So, you mix your flour and oats in a big bowl. Add a pinch of salt. Don’t forget the salt, or it’ll taste flat. Then you take your warm water and mix in the molasses and the yeast. Let it sit for a bit, till it gets all foamy. That’s how you know the yeast is alive and kickin’.
Then you pour the wet stuff into the dry stuff and mix it all up. Get your hands in there, get ‘em dirty. That’s the best way to do it. Knead it good, till it’s smooth and stretchy. You gotta work it, you know? Like you’re wringin’ out a wet towel. That’s what makes the bread good and strong.
Once it’s all kneaded, you put it in a greased bowl, cover it up, and let it rise. Find a warm place for it, near the stove or somethin’. Let it sit for a good long while, till it doubles in size. Don’t rush it. Good bread takes time.
Then you punch it down, knead it again a little bit, and shape it into a loaf. Put it in a bread pan and let it rise again. This time, not quite as long, just till it’s nice and puffy.
Now, the oven. You gotta have a hot oven, not too hot, not too cold, just right. 375 degrees, they say. Bake it for, oh, I don’t know, maybe 45 minutes, maybe an hour. Till it’s golden brown and sounds hollow when you tap it. That’s how you know it’s done.
Let it cool before you slice it, or it’ll all fall apart. And then, well, then you eat it. With butter, with jam, with whatever you like. It’s good bread, I tell ya. Good, honest, Maine oat molasses bread. Now go on, make some. And don’t forget what I told ya.
Making good bread ain’t rocket science, you know? It’s just about using good ingredients and takin’ your time. And puttin’ a little bit of love into it. That’s the most important part, I reckon. A little bit of love.
This oat molasses bread recipe is a keeper, trust me. My family has been making it for years, passed down from my grandma, and it always turns out perfect. You can’t beat a warm slice of this bread on a cold day. And don’t go adding no fancy nuts or fruits, neither. This is plain bread, good bread. That’s all you need.
Tags: Oat Molasses Bread, Maine Recipe, Homemade Bread, Baking, Traditional Bread, Easy Recipe, Oats, Molasses.
