How I learned to stop worrying and love the spore

This blog will start with a recipe. Because, although writing a blog is among one of the most egocentric activities in the whole gosh darn world, this blog is really not intended to be about me, or my adorable new child (I’m looking at you, Smitten Kitchen...also I don't have a child) or the politics and economics of food (I’m not interesting enough to be writing about eating out in New York, let alone Not Eating Out In New York).*

This blog is about the food that comes out of my [parents’] kitchen and about keeping my writing in shape during my time off from being a student. So thanks for tuning in and indulging this exercise. So let me actually start with the recipes already!

I’ve got some fun recipes (a kale and sweet potato soup, some fig, apple, blackberry tart action) backlogged, but any of my housemates from college would object heartily, I think, if I started with anything but challah. 

Despite the fact that my father has always been a bread baker, yeast beasties (as he calls them) made me nervous. They were live critters, weren't they? Couldn't they have minds of their own and refuse to go to their carbon dioxide generating work? However, over the winter break of my senior year of college, close family friends--and prodigious bread bakers-- were snowed in with us, and I took advantage of the opportunity to eke out a baking lesson. Richard and Susan were wonderful teachers, and cured me of my phobia, at least with regard to this very forgiving recipe. 

And so, for the semester following that snowstorm, challah was a regular occurrence in my off-campus house. It usually came out of the oven on Saturday or Sunday evenings**, and generally didn’t last beyond 24 hours. If it did, it was sliced, slathered with mustard, and topped with brisket (college was hard).

So, without further ado, here’s the recipe that filled our grungy and wonderful house at 181 Governor with the smell of baking bread—and even got a mention in my housemate’s phenomenal one-man show. 

Challah

Adapted from the Capen-Weinstein recipe, and taught me on a snowy Saturday in late December 2009

1 ½ c. water

1 c. milk (whole, skim, whatever you have)

heaping ½ cup granulated sugar

4 eggs (+ 1 for the wash)

1 tbsp. salt

1 tbsp. dry active yeast

flour (about half of a 5 lb. bag)

Combine eggs, sugar, salt, milk and water in large mixing bowl using a wooden spoon. Add 2 c. flour. Add yeast (it does not matter how warm the mixture is, though if you’re an anxious sort, you could let the milk and eggs come to room temperature before starting with the whole thing.). Mix thoroughly.

Add flour one c. at a time, until mixture is kneadable (see photo). (The dough will be difficult to stir before it should be kneaded. In this case, employ what my dad calls the ‘man stirring technique:” wrap your hand in a fist around the spoon handle, sprinkle the flour over the dough, and just kind of pull it away from the sides of the bowl. The flour will eventually be incorporated.)

Turn the dough out onto a VERY well floured surface. Knead for 5-10 minutes, then place dough in a greased (Pam works well) bowl. (I wash my large mixing bowl and throw the dough right back in after greasing). Cover and let stand for 3-4 hours, or until the dough has doubled in size. If you have soffit lighting, this is a great moment for it to shine (I wish I could say this kind of stupid punnery won't happen often on this blog, but the fact is that I will probably try to make it happen as often as possible); place the rising dough under the lights, and the extra warmth will expedite rising, especially on chillier days.

Turn the dough out onto a very LIGHTLY floured surface for braiding. Cut the large piece of dough into two equal halves using a bread knife (a scale is handy here). Set one half aside (it will be the second loaf, but for now, let’s just deal with the one).

Divide the half into three equal pieces. Squeeze the three pieces into ropes about 15-18” long. Set them side by side. Find the middle and start your braiding from there. In one direction, you will braid by crossing whichever rope is central to the outside, alternating moving it to the right and left. Each time you move a rope, give it a light tug, stretching it a little over whichever rope it is crossing. Once you have come to the end of one side, pinch the three ropes together, and tuck the end under the braid, pinching the dough of the end and the bottom of the loaf together. Then, braid from the middle to the other side—this time, the braiding will be of the normal sort—crossing right over center, then left over center, etc. Don’t forget to tug, and tuck the end under! Repeat this process with the second three pieces.

Move the loaves onto a parchment lined cookie sheet- If your cookie sheet is rimmed, it will help to grease the rim to prevent the loaves from sticking, should they rise to touch the rim. Allow the loaves to rise, loosely covered, for 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Beat the remaining egg, and brush it liberally over the risen, braided loaves. Place the loaves in the oven for 30 minutes (or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean), rotating after 15 minutes. Cool loaves on the sheet for 5 minutes,  then transfer to a rack to cool completely (if you can keep your housemates, students or parents, away from the loaves for that long).

Makes two sizeable loaves.

*I really like both of these blogs, by the way. No slam intended. I just don't have a cute kid or a political agenda. Honest.

**Yes, I know that challahs are a traditional Shabbat food, and that it was absolutely sacrilegious that I should be making them any other day than Friday, let along during Shabbat itself. But Friday afternoons, especially in the rainy months (which is about 10 in Providence, RI), are a perfect time for any college student to get some work out of the way to allow for thoroughly lazing about all weekend. (Which, I guess if you’re me, means making challah.)