high-bar baking

This recipe is a Claire Saffitz creation, a Babkallah, a mashup of a babka and a challah. I can’t believe I’d forgotten about it for so long, for it is a gem of a hybrid.

Because challah is not good. It’s not good for reasons inherent to its very being, like how a carrot cake made with kale would not be good. It’s in its nature; challah is an enriched dough (it has rich ingredients added to the normally “lean” dough of water, flour, salt, yeast), but it’s oil based. It has no dairy, in keeping with Jewish dietary rules regarding eating dairy in the same meal as meat (i.e.: don’t). Oil gives challah, like it gives a darkly chocolate cake, beautiful texture. And no taste. I wait for it, and nothing comes. Oil and no butter is a sad life. A half life.

Luckily, babka has been Americanized and secularized enough to be enriched in the French style (indeed, many babka recipes just start with a Brioche dough). Babka is all butter and milk and happiness. So this loaf is the best of the two; all the beauty and tradition of a challah, and all the luxury of a babka. A guaranteed stunner, and a favourite that I keep kicking myself for sleeping on. 

When it’s been a long time, though, you must actually read the recipe. Even if you’re on the phone with your bestie to whom you haven’t spoken in ages, you can’t skim. That’s the number one rule of baking, and one I will forget on occasion. 

Today was one such occasion. When filling the braided strands, you’re supposed to leave a clean border on one of the long ends of the roll, so it can pinch shut. I filled all the way to the edges. They rolled up just fine, so I thought, with the weight of the roll resting on its seam. Then I went to braid the rolled logs, and the world fell apart. Ok, so they came unravelled and spilled two handfuls of chocolate. But it felt like the world! 

Here’s your nugget of baking advice, one that never goes out of style: take a beat. It’s ok. We’re not in a hurry, and it’s going to be ok. Hang up the phone. Take a breath. Do the best you can. Braid the ugly strands together. Sweep away the extra chocolate. You don’t need to cry. (You can if you must, but you don’t have to). The Earth will continue to spin, and the Babkallah will turn out just fine. 

If it doesn’t, it’s just a Babkallah. 

But it will. Trust yourself. And don’t be afraid to take a moment to have a moment.