The Table

Sally Rasmussen

The leaven of life

A story of the Linton family of 18th century Pennsylvania.

It was fortunate for Thomas that he stumbled as he fled the house, or the heavy earthen jar hurled after him might have connected with the back of his head. Which was no doubt the intent of the hurler, his mother thought as she hurried to see if her son was injured. Thomas floundered in the bank of snow by the walkway, but seemed quite well as he spluttered to his feet. Hannah turned from him to survey the broken shards of pottery, sucking in her breath at the sight of the jar’s frothy white liquid dissolving into the dirty snow as the familiar sweet/sour smell rose and disappeared in the cold February air.

Thomas slapped the snow from his cloak. He thrust a finger at the door that had slammed shut behind him. “Thee sees the violence thy daughter visits upon me! I had only urged her to give up the display of melancholy she has adopted since the death of her friend Abel.”

Hannah winced as she lifted her attention from the destruction at her feet to the anger contorting her son’s face. She stared at him and he looked away, but continued on. “It has been a month’s time since the accident. Her despair is unseemly!”

His mother turned to the door that had closed on her youngest child. “She was preparing to seek permission from the Women’s Meeting to wed him.” Thomas gaped at his mother’s back as she stepped over the mess on the walkway and hurried to the door. Hannah spoke over her shoulder, her hand resting on the latch. “He was more than a friend, Thomas. He was the future she hoped for.”

Sarah was slumped in a chair at the table, arms dangling in her lap. Hannah took in the fire gone cold, the breakfast dishes yet unwashed. She stirred the coals to life and laid a log on top. Her daughter’s voice sounded from behind her, dull and lifeless. “I am sorry I did not finish the chores while thee was out, Mother. And I have ruined thy leaven.”

Hannah sat beside her daughter and waited until Sarah spoke again. “I do not know what to do, Mother. What does one do? Thee brought that leaven with thee when Father and thee were wed and kept it alive all this time. Now I have lost it.” She raised her hands and let them fall again in her lap. “I don’t know what to do.”

Hannah stroked the unkempt hair of her daughter’s bowed head, then silently rose and moved to the counter. Sarah looked up when her mother set an empty jar like the one that had been broken on the table, followed by a sack of finely ground flour and a pitcher of water.

Hannah rested her hands on the table and leaned toward Sarah to be sure she had all her attention. “Thee shall make thy own leaven. Thee shall feed it and keep it warm, and when it has grown strong, it shall be the foundation of this kitchen.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed as though she was unsure, but Hannah kept her gaze and continued. “Thee has stepped out of the moving stream of life and sat awhile on a wayside. The secret to rejoining it lies in taking one step, and then the next.”

Hannah picked up a china tea cup and held it out to her daughter. “First, you take a measure of flour.”

Pilgrim Bread

It used to be that a sourdough “starter” was the most common form of leavening for breads and cakes. I tried making my own once, some years ago. The results were mixed, and I admit to preferring the convenience of modern dry yeast. This bread consistently comes out well for me.

1/2 cup cornmeal 1/3 cup brown sugar 1 tablespoon salt Stir in:

2 cups boiling water 1/4 cup oil

Let cool to lukewarm. Meanwhile, dissolve:

2 packages dry yeast in 1/2 cup warm water

Add yeast to the cornmeal mixture, then beat in:

3/4 cup whole wheat flour 1/2 cup rye flour

Stir in:

4 ½ cups white flour

Knead until smooth and elastic. Place in a greased bowl, cover and let it rise in a warm place until double. Punch down, knead a second time for a few minutes. Divide in half, shape into loaves and place in greased pans. Cover and let rise again until double. Bake at 375° for about 45 minutes.

Sally Rasmussen lives in rural Taylor County with her husband, Tom.