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Grandma's Molasses Bread -- The Permanence of What We Make by Hand

Labor Day, and the holiday is two — Robert and Naomi on the piazza, ribs and coleslaw, the annual tradition that has been refined to its essential elements: two people, one grill, the garlic powder I know about and that Robert knows I know about, the knowing and the knowing-that-the-other-knows being the marriage distilled.

I have been writing for RecipeSpinoff consistently — weekly posts that have become a practice as regular as the she-crab soup on Sunday. The posts are about food and life and the particular intersection of the two that is this journal's thesis and this life's evidence: that cooking is not separate from living but inseparable from it, that the kitchen is not a room but a life, that the woman at the stove is not cooking dinner but building a family, one meal at a time.

Joy visited for the afternoon. She wore a hat made from a paper plate — decorated, glittered, magnificent. She ate ribs with her hands. She laughed at the grill's smoke. She said, "Baby!" because she has been saying "Baby!" at every visit since she learned about the grandchild, and the saying is the excitement, and the excitement is permanent.

I made the ribs, the coleslaw, the corn on the cob. Robert grilled. Joy ate. And the eating and the grilling and the corn were the Labor Day, and the Labor Day was the love.

After a day like that one — Joy’s paper-plate hat, Robert at the grill, the garlic powder neither of us mentions but both of us know — I wanted something that carried the same weight of permanence into the kitchen. Grandma’s Molasses Bread is that recipe for me: slow, dark, unhurried, the kind of thing that fills the house with a smell that says someone has been here and they loved you. It felt right to end a Labor Day built on tradition with a loaf that is, itself, all tradition.

Grandma’s Molasses Bread

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 2 hr 30 min (includes rise time) | Servings: 16 slices (2 loaves)

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
  • 1/2 cup warm water (110°F)
  • 1 1/2 cups warm whole milk
  • 1/3 cup unsulfured molasses
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1 cup whole wheat flour
  • 4 to 4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
  • 1 tablespoon butter, melted (for brushing)

Instructions

  1. Activate the yeast. In a large bowl, combine the warm water and yeast. Let sit for 5–10 minutes until foamy and fragrant.
  2. Add the wet ingredients. Stir in the warm milk, molasses, softened butter, and salt until combined.
  3. Build the dough. Add the whole wheat flour and mix well. Add the all-purpose flour one cup at a time, stirring until a shaggy dough forms and pulls away from the sides of the bowl.
  4. Knead. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8–10 minutes until smooth and elastic, adding flour as needed to prevent sticking. The dough will be slightly tacky but should not cling.
  5. First rise. Place dough in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean towel and let rise in a warm place for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until doubled in size.
  6. Shape. Punch down the dough. Divide in half and shape each portion into a smooth loaf. Place in two greased 9x5-inch loaf pans.
  7. Second rise. Cover loosely and let rise for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until the dough crowns about 1 inch above the rim of the pans.
  8. Bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Bake for 30–35 minutes until deep golden brown and the loaves sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.
  9. Finish. Remove from pans immediately and brush the tops with melted butter. Cool on a wire rack for at least 20 minutes before slicing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 35g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 230mg

Naomi Blackwood
About the cook who shared this
Naomi Blackwood
Week 434 of Naomi’s 30-year story · Charleston, South Carolina
Naomi is a retired librarian from Charleston who spent thirty-one years putting books in people's hands and now spends her days putting her mother's Lowcountry recipes on paper before they're lost. She survived her husband's affair, her father's sudden death, and the long goodbye of her mother's final years. She cooks she-crab soup in a bowl that Carolyn brought from Beaufort, and in every spoonful you can taste the marsh and the memory and the grace of a woman who chose to stay and rebuild.

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