or Obrist Holky's Mighty Loaf
Once upon a time, there was a savage war in central Europe. This war had some interesting characters who took on different faces depending on who they were talking to. The leaders blamed their enemies for the herecy and dystopia that would reign in their nations for all time should the call to proactively defend their nations not be answered. There was no mass media at that time; unless you consider The church of your nation-state as mass media. Regardless, people across central Europe took up the call.
Obrist Holky, or Heinrich Holk, was a landed noble in the Danish aristocracy who embodied the multiple-face, determinedly opportunistic aspects of the leaders of the day. Holk fought for the Christian IV's Danish Army against those complete and utter scoundrel Imperials led by Count von Tilly (under whom Rene Descartes was lucky enough to have served). That didn't work so well as Denmark was a small nation and the Hapsburgs were rather large, so Herr Holk decided to use his considerable horse-related expertise to serve as cavalry commander with the Imperial Army under infamous Bohemian mercenary, Albrecht von Wallenstein. Holk found his new calling successful, serving as a leader of pillagers and rapists for the Holy Roman Empire -- notorious even in an age of atrocities so saieth Olesen Jens, Danish historian.
Putting those political vacillations aside, Holk was known for his defensive contributions to the Danes and Pomeranians during the Siege of Straslund (incidently besieged by Holk's future commander, Albrecht von Wallenstein). Holk had reinforced the siege, but had to retire to seek additional forces. It was at this time, so the anecdotes go, that he had started his pillaging career in the neighboring Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The Commonwealth was rather large at the time, extending from Silesia in the West all the way much into the Ukraine in the East. A grand breadbasket of the time that both the Empire and the Turks loved to bother, leaving small fry like Holk the freedom of destructive wunderlust that he so seemed to enjoy.
Besides being a fine pillager, Holk was a serious horseman and landlord of farmers. Being in the breadbasket, Holk found a variety of different grains completely alien to the windswept western edge of Jutland from whence he came. From burned village to burned village, he would gather these grains and their corresponding baked products to bring back at least some personal plunder commensurate with his small force.
Holk died from the plague, a few years after serving with Wallenstein at Luetzen against the Swedes. It was during the precursory dinner to that battle, that Holk's grand knowledge of grains became known to the officer corps of the Imperial Army, and even to Wallenstein himself. Holk had been tasked with guarding the supply train for the Army the previous week, and had tasted the poor excuse for bread the officers' chefs had been making. Holk knew that facing the Lion of the North (famed Gustavus Adolphus) at Luetzen might mean the death of the entire Army, so he resolved to use his learned expertise to bake bread worthy of this exceptional moment in time.
The bread was amazing and achieved great renown throughout the officer corps. Many of the officers requested the recipe, but given that they were to go through a horrific battle the following day, the need to procure that recipe after the battle was forgotten. The tastes were written about years later, after the War, but Holk had died with the recipe...or so it seemed.
The Holy Roman Empire, with whom Holk had both fought against and for, was always at odds with The Turk. Yet, those Empires bled both their men and their customs into each other's realms. The Conditorei and coffee houses for which Vienna has long been known slid into its consciousness by the Hapsburgs' ever-too-oft meetings with the Ottomans. In similar fashion, it was the Turks who preserved what became known as Holk's Prize, the Danish Colonel's Bread; for this bread was not actually his own recipe, but one from a village on the Polish-Lithuanian frontier which Holk (and the Turks) had visited. The recipe was then brought back to the streets of Istanbul to be enjoyed by the many bureaucrats of the Sultan's government.
As it so happens, Kim (who is of Lithuanian descent) came home with a spectacular bread full of wonderful flavor, unclassifiable grains and righteous density.
It is my conjecture that this fine bread which she encountered in Vienna (Virginia, that is)...in a bakery of Turkish origin ...
who uses the moniker Danish Kernel Bread (muddling the renown of Holk's discovery of whatever Polish-Lithuanian village had first created it) ...
is indeed a descendant of Holk's Mighty Loaf.
When I taste it, I taste the history of man's love of baked grains, and the secrets that are so difficult to uncover in the realm of baking, regardless of any spurious involvement with the tale of Holk's bread. I have not yet reproduced it fully, but I am definitely striving ahead. Here are the results of my experiments as of date: