Oatmeal Bread — The Practice of Hands That Are Learning

I have begun writing at the desk. Every morning, five AM, coffee, the journal, the pen, the walnut surface that Robert made. The writing is not the cookbook yet — the cookbook requires a structure I have not yet built — but the writing is the material, the raw ingredient, the flour and butter that will become the biscuit when the hands know what they are doing. My hands do not know yet. But they are learning. And the learning is in the doing, the way Mama's biscuit-making was in the doing: not the recipe but the practice, not the knowledge but the repetition.

James has been visiting Elise in her apartment in Columbia — they are seeing each other more formally now, the casual mentions having given way to deliberate plans, the "we" having become the "Elise and I" that signals a relationship that has declared itself. I have not met Elise since Thanksgiving. I would like to meet her again. I would like to sit across from her at my table and watch her eat my food and determine, the way mothers determine, whether the woman who has captured my son's attention deserves the attention she has captured.

Carrie called from Emory on Sunday, excited about a Japanese literature class she is taking. She is reading Banana Yoshimoto — the same author whose novel "Kitchen" James gave her for her sixteenth birthday, the novel about food and grief and family that has become, for Carrie, the ur-text of her intellectual life. She is writing a paper on it. The paper will be good because Carrie's papers are always good, and the good will be in the connection she makes between the Japanese novel and the Lowcountry kitchen, the connection that is her life's thesis: that food is the language that every culture speaks, and the speaking is the understanding, and the understanding is the love.

I made she-crab soup at the desk — not literally, but I wrote about she-crab soup at the desk, and the writing was the cooking, and the cooking was the writing, and the two activities have become, at the desk Robert built, indistinguishable. I write about food. The food writes about me. The desk holds both.

The she-crab soup I wrote about this morning will wait for the cookbook — it is not yet ready to leave the desk. But bread is a different kind of practice: it asks for the same morning patience, the same willingness to let your hands do the knowing before your mind catches up. This oatmeal bread is what I make when I need to feel the repetition that Mama always said was the real recipe, the one that never got written down. It is warm, it is slow, and it asks nothing of you except that you keep showing up.

Oatmeal Bread

Prep Time: 25 min (plus 1 hr 30 min rising) | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 2 hrs 30 min | Servings: 16 slices (1 loaf)

Ingredients

• 1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats, plus extra for topping
• 1 1/2 cups boiling water
• 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
• 1/4 cup warm water (105–110°F)
• 1/3 cup honey
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
• 3 to 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
• 1 egg white, lightly beaten (for brushing)

Instructions

1. Soak the oats. Place the rolled oats in a large mixing bowl and pour the boiling water over them. Stir to combine and let sit for 20 minutes, until the mixture has cooled to lukewarm and the oats have absorbed most of the water.
2. Proof the yeast. In a small bowl, stir the yeast into the 1/4 cup warm water with a pinch of the honey. Let stand for 5 to 8 minutes until foamy and fragrant.
3. Build the dough. Add the proofed yeast, remaining honey, salt, and softened butter to the oat mixture. Stir to combine. Add flour one cup at a time, stirring after each addition, until a shaggy dough forms and pulls away from the sides of the bowl.
4. Knead. Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8 to 10 minutes, adding flour as needed, until the dough is smooth, slightly tacky, and springs back when poked. This is the part the hands learn before the mind does — stay with it.
5. First rise. Shape the dough into a ball and place in a lightly oiled bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
6. Shape and second rise. Punch down the dough gently and shape into a tight log. Place in a greased 9x5-inch loaf pan. Cover and let rise again for 30 minutes, until the dough crowns about 1 inch above the rim of the pan.
7. Top and bake. Preheat the oven to 375°F. Brush the top of the loaf with egg white and scatter a small handful of rolled oats over the surface. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until deep golden brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom.
8. Cool. Transfer to a wire rack and cool for at least 20 minutes before slicing. The waiting is part of the practice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 148 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 222mg