Breaking (flat)bread
Earlier this week, on a misty and cold afternoon, I decided to light our ‘four banal’ ('common oven' in English) for the first time.
The four banal was a feudal institution in medieval France. Many hamlets had a communal oven but it was owned by the seigneur (local lord). The seigneur collected a tax each time bread was baked in the oven. Peasants were forbidden from baking bread in their houses. The seigneur also took one sixteenth of their peasants’ grain production as a general tax, and would have more than likely owned the mill where everyone had to get their wheat processed into flour.
After feudalism ended in France, commercial bakeries started popping up and ovens became commonplace for larger or affluent households. Many ovens still served local communities but hopefully in a more equitable way!
We don’t know whether our oven served the local hamlet or whether it was used for the household. We know that part of the original structure of the house was knocked down and the remains of smaller out-buildings can be seen in the surrounding fields, so perhaps it was a much larger property, originally. Either way, I’m pretty stoked that it’s here and that we can use it. It’s a separate structure on the edge of our driveway; close enough to run-back-and-forth to the kitchen but far enough from the house that we shouldn’t be able to burn it down. *Touches wood* I’m not sure when it was built but I’m fairly confident it doesn’t date back to medieval times!
We had lots of communication with the owner before leaping across the channel to France to rent this house. I told her that I’d been researching how to build a simple bread oven and asked if it would be ok to construct one at some point. “No need, there’s the old communal oven on the drive and it’s yours to use!”
I found an article online on how to use and maintain traditional French ovens. It reads, “If the oven hasn’t been used in a while, we recommend you light the oven the day before.” We don’t think ours has been used in about ten years so perhaps it might need more than just the one day of pre-heating… Another top tip from the husband of our landlady was to feed the oven gently in order to steadily increase the temperature of the oven. “Go steady! Don’t light a huge fire. It takes time…”
We were able to use up the stack of unused pine wood in our chauderie. We can’t use this for our main stove (which heats the house and produces hot water) as pine has a much higher resin content than other woods. Over time, this can clog the chimney and cause problems. Some of the wood was a bit damp which produced a whipping tornado of smoke out of the semicircular entrance. This was an eyewatering experience as I continued to feed the fire, but it soon settled. Once the smoke passed, we were left with warm, piney wafts.
We wrapped up in multiple layers in front of the oven and watched the orange glow from the embers reflect on the cobbled dome ceiling. The afternoon was still and the mist sat heavily around the house. It was a nice reminder of why we moved to France for a totally new experience. But, more importantly, sometimes it's okay to sack off responsibilities to do something more fulfilling.
With a glass of wine, we celebrated our first fire and the fact that we hadn’t destroyed a piece of local history. I’d been proving some flatbread dough inside the house for our dinner and decided to test a piece outside. It wasn’t a terrible first attempt but, for sure, there’s room for improvement. The dough had recoiled and wrinkled slightly in the cold air whilst we faffed around with the embers. The flatbread puffed nicely once in the oven but I couldn’t quite get the hang of the turning motion with the paddle so one side of the flatbread was a little singed and crispy and the other, pale and soft. I finished with a brush of garlic and parsley oil.
Although it functions perfectly well as it is, the oven needs a bit of TLC: a thorough sweep for starters, a new door to have more control over the temperature and I think the roof will be retiled at some point. Some of the brickwork needs re-pointing too, but that’s a nice job for a dry afternoon in Spring. I’ll add it to my ‘dry afternoon in Spring’ list which is now two pages long.
Apparently there’s been somewhat of a revival of these types of ovens in recent years and I’m happy that we can ride the wave. It’s nice to think that traditional ovens just like ours are being restored and given a new lease of life. It also means that more people are interested in traditional tools and methods that require more time and perhaps even more labour.
I hope in time that I’ll be able to master the oven and it can be the centerpiece for late night Summer hosting. I’m going to use it for general cooking too, but perhaps not with my best cast iron pot… Housewives used to leave dishes of gratin at the communcal oven for cooking at the end of the baking day so perhaps that’s where I’ll start.
That evening we stayed outside until we lost daylight as well as the feeling in our toes. The oven however was still warm by the following afternoon.
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