At some point, growing up around here, everyone’s heard about how much mama’s little baby loves shortenin’ bread. When I was whisking around the kitchen Sunday morning, my mind started wondering where on earth a song like that came from. Folk music has a way of just popping up as far as recorded history goes, but the origins usually remain quite ambiguous. Some sources claim the song was just a folk song that refers to either shortbread or bread made from cornmeal and shortening. Other sources say it’s a minstrel song that was adopted prior to the rise of vaudeville. Either way, it was a song that was first recorded at the turn of the century and has been interpreted and reinterpreted over the ensuing century (and some change).
Still, I found myself humming not the sunny, floaty version where you just hear about mama getting ready to make shortening bread for her little baby. I’m more apt to sing a more melancholy, droning version that I heard on a Jean Ritchie record. The narrative here is one that is more stark, maybe even Gothic. “Ever since my dog’s been dead/Hogs been rootin’ my tater bed./I do love (shortenin’ bread)./I do love (shortenin’ bread).” Of course, both versions include a verse about two little children laying in bed, with one being “most sick” and the other being “most dead.” The solution to all these problems becomes shortenin’ bread. Whether or not it can keep a hog from plowing up your crops is another story, but it certainly makes dealing with it a little less painful.
Shortening bread came to these shores by way of the Scots when they first started settling in North Carolina. “Short” for the Scottish meant something that was easily crumbled, much like any shortbread you encounter. Really that’s all shortening bread is, just a colloquial name for shortbread. Or, if you’re a heathen like me, you may know them as Keebler Sandies or Lorna Doones. Shortbread is one of those cookies that is both simple in ingredients and execution. The main reason why shortbread is so delicious is simply because it’s an excuse to hold two sticks of butter and some brown sugar together with a little flour and vanilla.
Loyal readers may remember the roasted banana pudding recipe that calls for shortbread cookies instead of the standard Nilla Wafers. I think a prepackaged Pecan Sandie is a wonderful vehicle for an ice cream sandwich as it doesn’t get too hard in the freezer. My grandmother used to make ice cream sandwiches with Chips Ahoy and you’d just about break a molar getting through one of those. Now I don’t know what your family’s tea cakes were like, but ours were rather crispy; crumbly, even. Thus, shortbread never fails to remind me of my great great grandmother’s tea cake recipe, even the thickness of the ensuing dough.
Speaking of, this dough couldn’t be simpler. No wonder mama’s little baby loves it so much: mama can make it in a jiffy. This is an added bonus if you’re making something to contribute last minute to a potluck, like I was. These humble squares don’t need any fancy dressing or fine feathers, just a nice plate to set on. After a busy Sunday lunch at St. Andrew’s in Prairieville, I was beaming to come home with only one square left, which John promptly enjoyed when we got home.
To give credit where credit is due, this recipe comes from the cookbook North Carolina & Old Salem Cookery, published in 1992 by Beth Tartan. Tartan was the former food editor of the Winston-Salem Journal. Speaking as your local food columnist and associate editor, I’m quite smitten with the idea of changing my official title if this thing takes off anymore than it already has. Yet, I love the exchange here, from one newspaper to another. Let’s roll up our sleeves and make a little baby happy, shall we?
- Shortnin’ Bread
- 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 cup lightly packed brown sugar
- 16 Tablespoons (2 sticks) unsalted butter, soft but cool to the touch, cut into Tablespoons
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- Preheat the oven to 350 degrees with a rack in the middle.
Place the flour and brown sugar in a food processor. Pulse 10 to 12 times until well mixed. Sprinkle the butter pieces around the bowl. Add the salt and vanilla, then process until the mixture pulls together into a ball. This will take about 30 seconds.
Turn into an ungreased 8-inch square pan, spreading the dough as evenly as possible to reach the corners. Bake until lightly browned and firm, about 25 to 30 minutes.
Remove from the oven and cool for 30 minutes. Cut into squares or 2-inch bars. Store in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks.
As you can see, it’s a pretty shelf-stable cookie. Although I doubt you’ll keep it around for two weeks. Don’t have a food processor? You can still do this by hand. Mainly, you’d want to cut the butter into the flour, then beat the dough together. Whether you cut it in with a pastry cutter, two butter knives, or just your fingers is none of my business. Same goes for if you use a wooden or a silver spoon. Again, it all comes together the same way, it’ll just take a little more time and dexterity.
In all honesty, I settled on this for two reasons. One, I’ve only made this for a bake sale and never really got a chance to enjoy some for myself. Two, I didn’t feel like running to the store to get pecans to make a chess cake. By the way, have we talked about chess cake? That’ll be for another column, but it’s quickly becoming one of my favorite potluck desserts.
One thing I will never be able to abide by at a potluck is unlabeled casseroles. How many times do I have to reach into a mystery dish of cheese and cream and come out with pineapple casserole instead of hashbrown casserole? Not to get too off topic, but pineapple casserole is a rather new addition to my palate and I have to say it’s one classic dish that is very contentious for me. Again, that’s for another week, another column.
A little plug here, but for those of you not in the know, this very column was cited in this month’s issue of The Atlantic. One of my favorite magazines that brings me down with the dire state of current events, but that’s the news, right? Anyway, I’m on page 25 featured in the article “The Death of Durkee’s.” We did it, folks! We’ve made it to the big time! All for the love of my favorite recently-extinct condiment. If any of you folks are sitting on some contraband Durkee’s, I’m not naming prices, but there’s a handsome reward in it for you if you’re willing to part with it. I got a little sad looking at hams, thinking about Thanksgiving, and wondering what I’ll be basting our ham in this year. I guess we’re gonna have to go back to the Aretha Franklin recipe (again, another column).
I’d be curious how this dough would fair in a tart crust. Over a year ago now I brought a pineapple tart from Mastering the Art of French Cooking to a pool party, where the crust was basically shortbread. Shortbread, custard, and apricot-glazed pineapple. If that was what we called pineapple casserole, I’d eat it by the shovel-full. In fact, something similar exists, sans the pineapple, from Louisiana called a Tarte a la Bouille. When I was looking through my recipe books I came across a chocolate wafer recipe that promises to make cookies good enough to make a chocolate pie crust. We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?
I’ve taken to cutting this shortnin’ bread out of the pan along the edges, turning it out onto a cutting board, then cutting my squares from there. A good rule of thumb is to cut in half as evenly as possible. Cut those halves into halves, then rotate the cutting board and repeat on the other side. You end up with a pretty even slate of squares by the end of it. That said, you get about 16 squares out of the whole shebang, so if you want more, you’re just gonna have to make more. Although I think you’ll find the richness of this recipe shines well on its own without the need for ice cream or a dusting of powdered sugar.
Good news is, if it’s just you and the hog, eight squares oughta keep him occupied long enough to dig up your taters before the hog does. In fact, these cookies would be great at a hog killing, and with the weather turning like it is, I’m imagining smokehouses are gonna be lighting up soon enough. If anybody wants to invite me to one, I’ll bring the shortnin’ bread. A double batch, if I have to!
