A traditional range is a different creature from a modern fan oven, and once you understand that, your bread improves beyond anything a dial-and-element oven can manage. There are no exposed elements and no fan whipping the air about. Instead you have a heavy cast-iron chamber, warmed by a firebox or a burner, holding heat in its bricks and plates and releasing it slowly. The result is a moist, still oven with gentle bottom heat and a steady, radiant warmth that browns a crust beautifully.
The trade-off is that heat is not perfectly even. Most ranges run hotter towards the top, near the flue, and hotter still on the oven floor where the heat source sits beneath. Learning those quirks is the whole art. Your range will have its own personality; treat the first few bakes as a conversation rather than an exam.
Bring the range up to temperature well before the dough is ready. For a solid-fuel range, allow a good hour, and longer in cold weather; for oil or gas, forty-five minutes is sensible. Cold cast iron will punish a loaf with a pale, heavy base. You want the chamber sitting at roughly 220–230°C.
A dependable everyday loaf: 500g strong white bread flour, 10g fine salt, 7g dried yeast, and about 320ml lukewarm water, with a walnut-sized knob of lard or butter for keeping quality. Mix, then knead for ten minutes until the dough is smooth and springs back when pressed. A stand mixer will do it in half the time.
Here is where patience pays. The first rise can be done in an hour in a warm spot, but a slower prove — overnight in the cool of a larder or the bottom of the fridge — gives far better flavour and a dough that is easier to handle. Bring it back to room temperature for an hour before shaping.
Shape, then prove a second time for 45 to 60 minutes, until the dough springs back slowly when pressed with a floured fingertip. Be wary of proving on top of the range itself. That spot is fierce, and dough left there will over-prove, collapse, and bake into a flat, sour disc.
Knock the dough back, shape it into a tight round or fit it into a well-buttered 900g tin, seam side down. If you are baking a free-form cob, rest it seam side up in a floured cloth or banneton. Just before it goes in, slash the top with a razor or a very sharp blade at a shallow angle, about a centimetre deep. This is not decoration: it tells the loaf where to open as it rises in the heat.
Load quickly. Every second with the door open is heat pouring out of a chamber that took an hour to charge.
Bake on the middle shelf. The top of the oven runs hot enough to colour a crust before the middle has set, and the floor will scorch a base long before the crumb is done. The middle gives you even heat from above and below, so the loaf rises fully before the crust firms.
Steam matters, and a range is naturally good at holding it. For the first twenty minutes, bake your loaf under an upturned casserole, a heavy lidded pot, or a large metal bowl. If your range allows it safely, a small roasting tin of boiling water set on the oven floor works just as well. After twenty minutes, uncover and let the crust dry and darken.
Allow 35 to 45 minutes for a large tin loaf and 40 to 50 for a round cob. If your range runs hotter at the back, turn the loaf after half an hour. Do not open the door during the first twenty minutes unless something is clearly burning.
To judge whether it is baked: it should sound hollow when tapped on the base, slip easily from the tin, and reach about 96°C in the centre if you have a thermometer. Cool it on a wire rack. Cutting while hot steams the crumb and undoes your good work.
Get these basics right and a range oven will reward you handsomely — a deep, well-coloured crust, an open and fragrant crumb, and the particular pleasure of a warm kitchen, a cooling rack, and the first slice buttered while the loaf is still faintly warm.