Page 49 of Gone With the Rogue
Julia smiled. If only she was settling her own issues as easily as she was Brina’s. “I’ll get the things we need out of the dry larder while you find a recipe book.”
Brina nodded and went in search of a recipe while Julia gathered a tall canister filled with flour, a large bowl, a salt cellar, and a cake of yeast a little larger than a teacup saucer. Mrs. Lawton was very organized, so everything was easy to find. Julia carried it all to the worktable and laid it down.
“I’ve searched every cupboard, drawer, and shelf,” Brina said, lifting her hands in frustration as she rejoined Julia. “I’ve looked under things, behind things, and inside things. I can’t find a recipe book of any kind. Not even a little piece of paper that’s been written on.”
“That seems odd. There has to be one. Mrs. Lawton is an excellent cook. I’ll help you look.”
However, after following Brina’s path and turning over everything in the kitchen and the dry and wet larder at least twice, Julia was ready to accept defeat when Brina offered, “We’ll have to do it from what you remember by watching when you were a little girl.”
Julia’s throat tightened a little. “I never managed to do that. Bread was made the first thing every morning. I never came belowstairs before sunrise.”
“They make bread that early?” Brina questioned as much with her expression as her words.
Julia put her hands on her hips and studied the ingredients before her. Suddenly she felt the gravity of what they were about to attempt and the reason for it—so that Brina would know she could do the work should she decide to join the sisters. This task had seemed so much easier when she was just thinking about doing it. Now that it was time to do the deed, she wasn’t as sure.
Inhaling deeply, Julia swallowed down her hesitation. “Well, it can’t be that difficult, can it? Cooks do it every day. I know it doesn’t take a lot of yeast or salt to make bread rise, so let’s see how much flour this bowl will hold and we’ll go from there. I’ll put everything in and you stir it all together.”
Julia took the top of the tin to pour. The flour fell tothe bowl with a heavy splat and poofed flour all over her and Brina.
“What did you do?” Brina asked coughing and waving the white cloudy mist away.
“I don’t know.” Julia started laughing. “It’s all over your face.”
“It’s on yours, too,” Brina added with a snicker of amusement. “And in your hair.”
Julia brushed her hand across her hair.
“Now it’s worse.” Brina smiled.
Julia laughed softly. “So now I’m covered in soot, flour, and ash. I’ll clean up later.” She looked down at the bowl. “I don’t think that’s enough flour to fill a pan. I’ll add more.”
They both looked down at the bowl as she tilted the canister again. A double handful of it plopped on top of the first pour and it dusted them again.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” Brina questioned in disbelief.
“Of course not,” Julia defended herself, and put the canister down with a clatter. “Do you think I want flour all over my face and hair? Look, it’s even on our sleeves.”
“All right,” Brina answered in a calmer voice. “As you said, we’ll wash up later. Let’s get this made so it can rise.”
After discussing at length the amount of milk, yeast, and salt they should use, they began.
It didn’t take long before the mixture in the bowl became a white sticky paste that was clinging to the sides of the bowl and the spoon in wet clumps.
“This is getting too difficult to stir and it won’t hold together,” Julia offered. “I think we need to stop the milk and add more flour.”
“I’ll pour this time,” Brina said confidently, “and you stir.”
“Yes, of course,” Julia agreed with a roll of her shoulders. “You need to know how to do it all. It will be good practice for you.”
They changed places and Brina lifted the canister. She gently shook out the tiniest amount. Julia stirred. The effort was repeated until Julia said, “I think we have enough. Let’s spoon it onto the table and then you can knead it.”
“Me?” Brina asked, looking down at the wet sticky flour.
“Of course, you. We’re doing this for you. Put your strength into it.”
They scraped the mixture onto the table. Brina squeezed her hands into fists and the dough squirted through her fingers. Seconds later the dough started sticking to the table and then to her hands in knobby clumps. Julia added more flour but the consistency didn’t get better.
“What happened to it? I can’t get it off.” Brina tried to wipe the dough from her fingers and ended up, sending more of if flying.
