A no-fuss recipe for bannock
A Lesson from Grandpaw
My grandpaw always said, “You can’t go wrong with bannock.” It was one of those things he made sure I learned early on, calling it “backwoods bread for folks who don’t have time for fuss.” Sitting by the fire, he’d tell me how bannock wasn’t just food-it was a part of how you cooked and ate in the woods, simple and tastes great. Morning, noon, or night.
“Flour, water, and a pinch of salt,” he’d say, “and you’ve got all you need to make it.” He’d mix it right there in a little tin bowl, sometimes tossing in a bit of baking powder if he had it, or a dab of lard to keep it from sticking too the pan much. His recipe was as straightforward as it gets, and here’s how he taught me to make it.
Grandpaw’s Bannock
1 cup flour
1/2 cup water
3-finger pinch of baking powder
3-finger pinch of salt
Optional: 3-finger pinch of sugar (or 2 if you’re feeling extra sweet)
This makes two servings or four small biscuits. The perfect amount for any meal at camp, or to double or triple the batch at home.
How to Make It
Mix everything with a stick in a tin cup or bowl until you get a single dough ball. Then cook it however suits you:
Wrap it around a stick: For twisty bread, hold it over the coals and bake it evenly.
Use a tin cup or plate: Place it on top of an overturned tin cup or plate above the coals.
Cook directly on the coals: For the adventurous types, place it right on the hot coals until golden brown.
Grandpaw’s Tips
“Don’t overthink it,” he’d remind me. “This bread ain’t fancy, but it’ll fill your belly.” He’d flatten the dough out with his hands, throw it in a greased skillet, and cook it slow over the coals. Sometimes he’d wrap the dough around a stick and hold it over the fire, telling me that was how they did it when he was a boy-no skillet, no extras, just dough on a stick and a steady hand.
“You watch it close,” he’d warn. “Let it go too long, and you’ll have charcoal for supper.”
Making It Your Own
Grandpaw always kept it simple, but he’d change it up now and then. A handful of dried berries if we found some, maybe a little sugar or honey if we were feeling lucky. “It’s not about making it perfect,” he’d say, “it’s about making it yours.”
That stuck with me. Bannock wasn’t just food; it was part of the stories he told, the way he taught me about living with what you had and appreciating what you could make from it.
Why Bannock Sticks with Me
To this day, when I make bannock, I think of him. It’s the kind of food that brings you back to the basics, just like he always wanted me to remember. So if you’ve never made it, give it a try. It’s as simple as it gets.-jb
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