challah – Jewish Independent

Enter focaccia, stage right

Focaccia straight from the oven. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines, please. Or, in this case, your yeast. From zero to focaccia in one hour.

My unpremeditated transformation from water-burner to bread-baker is shocking even to me. Or especially to me. When hubby Harvey came home one day with a cast-iron pan, I got über excited, thinking I could now fry like my father used to. Though, when frying became a dirty word in the 1990s, he called it sautéeing. But, somehow, sautéeing seemed too prosaic for the mighty cast iron, so I started investigating what else I could do with the skillet.

Thanks to Google and Pinterest’s cookies, they now know that I like baking bread. I automatically get links to recipes for cast-iron bread-baking. Every. Five. Minutes. Enter focaccia, stage right. Or, if you’re Italian … entra nella scena della focaccia a destra.

I perused the myriad recipes and took a few of them on a test drive. Or test bake, as it were. The following recipe overtook the others by a mile, and won in the finest focaccia category. Here’s a link to the winning One-hour Rosemary Focaccia Bread I’ve come to love: flavorthemoments.com/one-hour-rosemary-focaccia-bread. (It actually takes an hour-and-a-half, if you include the time it takes to preheat your oven.)

It’s my go-to quick bread recipe. It’s truly no-fail. Feel free to ditch the garlic and Parmesan, or add more rosemary. You can’t screw up this bread. After my first try, I was hooked. I let the gorgeously golden focaccia cool, sliced it into small rectangles, like they do in Italian restaurants, and dipped it in EVOO (shorthand for extra virgin olive oil). Which made me wonder what an “extra virgin” is? Something to ponder another time. Never mind. Not relevant. Anyway, I’ve made this focaccia several times. Needless to say, I am not getting thinner. But my Italian is improving.

Now that I’ve pretty much nailed down challah and focaccia, I decided to branch out and try making a no-knead round crusty bread. You know, like sourdough. Minus the sour. The kind that requires you to have a Dutch oven. Google and Pinterest are way ahead of me, so they’ve been sending me nonstop recipes and pix of Dutch oven bread. All I had to do was think about crusty bread and they were on it.

I recently learned that not all Dutch ovens are created equal. They’re mostly made from cast iron covered in enamel, but not all of them can withstand the high heat you need to use. Thing is, for crusty bread, you have to heat the Dutch oven to about 450 degrees – empty. Then you put the dough in it. You don’t want to ruin a fancy shmancy Dutch oven over a loaf of bread. Even though my Dutch oven isn’t one of those $400 Le Creuset ones – it’s a $65 one from Costco, which works perfectly for pot roast, chicken and everything in between – I’m loathe to risk ruining it over bread. Sure, I could go buy one of the fancy Dutch ovens but, seriously, $400 for a crusty loaf? Not in this lifetime. I worked too hard to fritter my money away like that. And, like I always say, just because you can afford to buy something, doesn’t mean you should.

So, I improvised and used an ancient Magnalite aluminum-magnesium alloy Dutch oven that belonged to my friend’s late mother. I’m hoping I don’t get Alzheimer’s, what with the aluminum connection, but it’s not like I’m going to be making every single meal in it. Anyway, the bread was a marginal success. The outside looked gorgeously crusty but, once I cut into it, parts were doughy and uncooked. Bake and learn. I’ll try it a few more times, tweaking the temperature, increasing the rising time, etc., and hope for the best. If at first you don’t succeed, well, suck it up and try again.

I can hear some readers wondering why I would want to waste half a day baking bread from scratch, when I could just go out and buy a loaf. Well, there’s something indescribable about the smell of fresh baked bread wafting through my home. It’s a little like a comestible aphrodisiac. It makes me weak at the knees, thinking about the butter melting slowly over the hot bread, as I sniff it lovingly with anticipation. Wait, this is becoming a little X-rated. I need to get a grip. Sorry. Suffice to say that my husband and I adore fresh bread and appreciate the effort it takes to make it. And, since I’m a notorious multi-tasker, I busy myself with other things while the dough is rising, so there’s no wasted time. Like now, for instance. I’m writing this article while waiting for my rosemary and Kalamata olive bread dough to double in size.

Never having been one to let grass grow under my feet, my next culinary foray will be gravlax. Ever since tasting my friend Roxanne’s heavenly gravlax last Pesach, I’ve been itching to give it a go. Since salmon season is upon us, there’s no time like the present. Harvey’s on board too, but not as a cook as much as a taste-tester. From what I can tell, it’s a ridiculously easy thing to make, as long as you have truckloads of salt, sugar, dill and time. No, not thyme. Once I perfect the recipe, I’ll share it with you. But not until then.

You can try till you’re blue in the face to convince me that store-bought food is just as good as homemade, but I’m not buying it. Literally or figuratively. There’s just something about the laying on of hands, the investment of love and effort, and the satisfaction at the end of it all, that makes homemade food so very worth it.

I suspect I might have made a very dedicated homesteader. As long as I had an electric stove and oven, and a good refrigerator. Oh, and maybe somewhere close by where I could get a good decaf, low-foam, lactose-free latte while I was growing my own food, baking bread and churning butter. Am I country girl at heart? Hell, no! I am about as cityfied as they come. To wit, my idea of camping is a Motel 8. And outhouses? They should be outlawed.

Enough said.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.

Pinson writes definitive book

If I wrote that I had been trying to get a review copy of Rising: The Book of Challah by Rochie Pinson (Feldheim Publishers) since November 2016, readers would find that hard to believe, but the book only arrived at my door recently.

Pinson, who grew up in Vancouver, is co-founder of the IYYUN Centre for Jewish Spirituality with her husband, Rav DovBer Pinson, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. They have four children. She mentors women and teaches various classes. She also conducts a challah-baking workshop, which she teaches worldwide, including in Vancouver.

For Rising, Pinson has written 352 pages about challah. This book is about her philosophy, spirituality, history and everything you wanted to know about challah. And, yes, it includes recipes – 38 of them for challah and seven for toppings.

“The intent of challah,” writes the rebbetzin, “is to reveal our innate power to nurture and nourish, and reclaim our mothering potential in all the forms it can take.”

Section I, “The Story of Challah,” explains how, as a new bride, Pinson arrived in Kobe, Japan, which had no kosher bakery, and soon got into making 40 challot a week for the Jewish community.

The book then expands to other information about challah, spirituality and other topics, including a detailed examination of each ingredient and information on the concept of “rising.”

Section II is the cookbook, with reviews and details of ingredients and equipment and troubleshooting.

There are eight recipes, including her own classic challah recipe, gluten-free challah and vegan challah; eight holiday specialties, like apple-and-honey challah and pretzel challah; six recipes from around the world, including Moroccan challah, Yemenite challah and Bukharian challah; nine challah innovations, such as a “fish” challah (shaped like a fish with salmon, tuna, mushrooms and other vegetables), a deli challah (with deli meats) and a rainbow challah (using food colouring); and eight recipes for leftover challah, like babka, cinnamon bars and French toasts. Rising also has recipes for seven different challah toppings, including cream cheese frosting, and accompaniments for other dishes, such as challah stuffing and challah croutons.

Section III is called “Laws and Customs,” which is mainly self-explanatory, though it also includes challah meditations. A glossary and index conclude the book.

There are more than 100 colour photographs in Rising and many sketches, such as 37 ways to braid and shape a challah.

Rising really is the definitive “everything you ever wanted to know about challah” book, written with love and nurturing. It contains a huge amount of information, including the story of Pinson’s life “as realized through challah baking, and challah baking as a metaphor for balanced, integrated nurturing of our self and our loved ones.”

This is the book to give to anyone who bakes challah, and to anyone else who might be contemplating it.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, author, compiler/editor of nine kosher cookbooks and a food writer for North American Jewish publications, who lives in Jerusalem where she leads weekly walks of the Jewish food market, Machaneh Yehudah, in English.

The mitzvah of challah

On Rosh Hashanah, the challah is round and sweet, symbolizing our collective wish for a good, sweet year. (photo by Przemyslaw Wierzbowski)

It was two years ago that I fell in love with challah. I attended a challah baking workshop at a Jewish retreat and, at that point, the extent of my challah knowledge was that it’s sold in delis, comes in a plastic bag with a twist tie and makes great French toast. I was a challah virgin. This was around the same time that I was test-driving a more observant Jewish life, and figured it behooved me to learn more about our people’s famous braided egg bread. Little did I know how profoundly the workshop would affect me.

There we were, 40 or so Jewish women, up to our elbows in yeast dough, patiently following the instructor’s directions. She explained what each ingredient symbolizes, and how making challah each week is an auspicious time for Jewish women to pray for what they want and need. I was hooked. When it came time to make the blessing over the challah, that’s when I lost it, and became emotional. Something about a sisterhood of Jewish women gathered around tables doing something their mothers and grandmothers had been doing for generations struck a chord deep within me.

As I said the blessing, with my eyes closed and my hands atop the soft dough – “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu, l’hafrish challah” – tears poured down my cheeks like they would never stop. The woman sitting next to me (almost a complete stranger) heard my sniffling and put her arm around me. I’m sure she was puzzled by my tearful response and, truth to tell, I was embarrassed, but I was overcome and just couldn’t help myself. Somehow, the mitzvah of making challah, and all that it symbolizes in our collective identity as Jewish women, hit me.

It mattered, in a deep-seated way, that I was part of something much bigger than myself – something inextricably tied to my Jewish roots, something to which I had paid scant attention over the years. I knew this activity would become a meaningful part of my life from that moment on. Challah is far more than just a food to sustain my family and me physically. It fills us spiritually as well. And that’s the most beautiful taste in the world.

Long story short, I now bake challah on a regular basis, for others and myself. It reminds me of who I am at my core. It draws me closer to my community of Jewish friends and acquaintances, and places me smack in the middle of what is real and true – my Yiddishkeit. Who knew that combining a few essential ingredients could produce such an inexplicable gift in my life?

It’s no secret that every Jewish custom is significant on a spiritual level. With Rosh Hashanah approaching, I set out to learn how to make one of the many unique symbols of the Jewish New Year – the round challah. The rest of the year, we make braided challot and dip them in salt, but, on Rosh Hashanah, the challah is round and sweet, symbolizing our collective wish for a good, sweet year. Its circular shape, which represents the cycle of life, has no beginning and no end, thereby symbolizing the continuity of the Jewish people. You could also say it’s a metaphor for the endless blessings that God sends us. Another interpretation is that the round challah resembles a crown, symbolizing the supreme power and authority of God.

As Rosh Hashanah nears, it’s a time for personal introspection and the beginning of our individual and collective teshuvah (return or repentance). We get ready to reflect, repent and ask for forgiveness. It’s a time to elevate ourselves and direct our thoughts and deeds toward a higher, more purposeful end. At precisely this time, when our thoughts turn to repentance and resolutions for improvement, the round challah reminds us that the opportunity for teshuvah is never-ending. This Rosh Hashanah, may we all be successful in elevating ourselves from our current reality into a higher, more spiritual state of being, on both an individual and collective level.

For those of you who want to learn more about the significance of baking challah, there’s a fascinating book called The Mitzvah of Challah by Esther Rivka Toledano (ArtScroll Mesorah Publications, 2018). The author dives deep into what is undeniably a mitzvah granted especially to women. She shares the history, the halachic (Jewish legal) guidelines, several recipes and lots more. The book goes far beyond the basics for those who really want to understand and embrace the mitzvah of challah.

May we all have a sweet, happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. L’shana tova u’metuka!

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.

The challah represents unity

Photos from the Vancouver Shabbos Project event Oct. 26. (photo by Lior Noyman)

photo - Participants collect their supplies — Participants collect their supplies. *(photo by Lior Noyman)*

On the night of Oct. 26, hundreds of Jewish community members came together at Vancouver Talmud Torah to bake challah and socialize in a welcoming atmosphere. The event was part of the Shabbos Project, a worldwide movement where Jews across the globe celebrates a Shabbat together.

Why challah for Shabbat?

Most challot are braided with either three or six strands of dough. In kabbalah, when we talk about the mundane and physical world with its limitations, we consider the (three) aspects of time, space and matter, and the six days of creation and the six directions in our three-dimensional world (north, south, west, east, up and down).

Throughout the week, we work to master our environment. We struggle with time – when is there ever enough? We are limited by space, and we attempt to control matter. We are preoccupied with succeeding in and dominating our physical world.

photo - The challah braid represents the unity of everything — The challah braid represents the unity of everything. *(photo by Lior Noyman)*

Shabbat arrives and it supersedes and gives meaning to all we do during the week. It brings us back to focus. Shabbat represents the soul and our inner self. It represents the G-dly, the infinite and the spiritual energy beyond the physical dimensions.

The challah braid represents the unity of everything. It ties all the physical properties of our lives to the divine.

Similarly, Shabbat uplifts time, space and matter and all the dimensions of the physical world. It brings everything and everyone together, reminding us of unity, peace and the purpose of creation.

Rabbi Shmulik Yeshayahu is director of the Ohel Ya’akov Community Kollel.

Challah baking lessons from an expert

More than 120 women attended Community Mega Challah Bake that was led by challah-baking expert Rochie Pinson, who also gave a lecture. (photo from Chabad Lubavitch BC)

More than 120 women from across Greater Vancouver gathered on Wednesday evening, Sept. 10, for the Community Mega Challah Bake at the Lubavitch Centre. The event was a joint project of N’Shei Chabad of British Columbia, the Chabad centres of Vancouver, Downtown Vancouver, East Vancouver, Richmond, University of British Columbia and White Rock, Congregation Beth Hamidrash and Congregation Schara Tzedeck.

First, the women made and kneaded their own dough, led by challah baking expert Rochie Pinson of New York. They then enjoyed mingling and refreshments and a lecture by Pinson about the deeper significance of challah making and Rosh Hashanah. After that, they returned to their baking stations to braid their challah, once again led by Pinson, who demonstrated various methods of braiding.

“I had such a wonderful time and I was so happy to see the different organizations coming together for this event,” said one participant as she left with two beautifully braided challahs.

“The evening surpassed all of our expectations!” said Henya Wineberg, co-coordinator of the event. “The display of unity in the community was heartwarming to see.”

Pinson, who teaches challah-baking workshops to women across the world, will be publishing a book about challah baking titled Rising, with an expected release date of fall 2015.