Holy Challah: A Tale of 2 Loaves

Whether made by hand or machine, the house still smells divine!

Melissa Stein’s machine-risen challah, sprinkled with seeds and shaped by hand.

When I was growing up, the Friday night challah sat covered on an oval plate at my father’s right hand until after the candles were lit, the sabbath prayers sung, and the wine blessed. Only then did he unveil the braided, poppy-seed-topped loaf as we recited the Ha-Motzi, the prayer over the bread, carve off a generous chunk, and tear it into enough pieces to feed the assembled company. My mother, who made everything else that appeared on the white-linen-draped Shabbat table—almost invariably her signature roast beef, roast potatoes, salad, vegetables and dessert—didn’t make the challah. She picked it up from the local bakery, whose owner saved her a loaf every week.

Two of my slightly over-baked challahs. I love making 6-strand challahs.

In recent years, after falling in love with bread-baking, I’ve started making my own challah, and, like everything related to bread, there was a bit of a learning curve. Loaves came out lopsided and dense, over- or under-baked, not sweet enough or dry as dust. Though my skills have improved, I was excited to learn that our synagogue in Manhattan Beach—Congregation Tikvat Jacob Beth Torah, which everyone calls CTJ—was offering not just one challah-making class, but two on a recent Friday morning.

One, “Challah Making with Tamah—Old School,” would be taught by the temple’s executive director, Tamah Kushner, and the other, “Challah Making in a Bread Machine,” by its former president, Melissa Stein. Of course, given social distancing requirements necessitated by the COVID-19 pandemic, the classes would be offered via Zoom.

In honor of the classes, both women agreed to share some of their secrets, along with the recipes, which you can find below. I don’t own a bread machine, but Melissa said she thought her recipe would work just fine when made by hand.

She learned it from her mother, who also made it using a bread machine. Not one to follow recipes, Melissa said her challah is the only thing she makes on a regular basis for which she uses exact measurements. Before the pandemic, she baked it on occasion, usually when she made a brisket. But since the threat of the virus has led CTJ to hold Friday night services on Zoom, she’s been making challah weekly.

One of Melissa’s favorite family pictures, taken in November 2007.

“It’s become a habit now,” she said. “I think this will continue after this is over.” Her family, including husband Jon, 20-year-old Izzy, and twin girls, Adi and Zayde, 17, have come to expect challah. “They are so spoiled now,” she said. “It used to be a treat. Now they’re used to getting it and having a lot of it.”

Although her recipe makes one loaf, she usually doubles it and had to purchase a second bread machine at a garage sale, a Cuisinart, in addition to the white Oster Expressbake that she received as a wedding shower gift almost 21 years ago.

Notes on Melissa’s recipe:

The oven should be preheated once you are getting ready to bake, not during the approximately 90 minutes that the dough is rising. Melissa also prefers extra-large eggs, because she likes the color and flavor they impart. It’s also not essential to use special bread machine flour or yeast—the regular variety will do.

Making a challah in a bread machine is not much different than making it by hand, except “it’s a machine doing the work instead of me,” she said. You just throw all the ingredients in the machine and press the “Dough” setting, she said.

Melissa’s trusty Oster Expressbake, a wedding shower gift almost 21 years ago.

The machine cycles through various stages of bread-making, mixing the dough, allowing it to rest and rise, punching it down, mixing again, letting it to rise a second time, and keeping it warm until you’re ready to bake. While it’s processing, she checks once or twice to make sure all the ingredients are being incorporated by the small mixer blade at the bottom of the bread container.

The whole process takes about 90 minutes, Melissa said. Then the machine beeps, and the dough is ready. When she takes it out, the dough is “a nice warm ball of dough” ready for shaping (though sometimes she lets it sit for a few hours or even refrigerates it overnight).

Challoween—Melissa’s special Halloween challah that includes Trick or Treat candy!

One of Melissa’s earliest memories is of braiding challah at a nursery school in Marin County, where she grew up. “For me, the part that’s Jewish is the braiding,” she said.

She divides the bread into three strands or six, braids it, then puts egg wash on the loaves, and sprinkles the seasoning on top. Since the machine handles all the necessary risings, no additional waiting time is required—unlike challah made according to a more traditional method. After that, she just pops the loaves in a preheated oven and bakes them until they are golden brown.

The topping Melissa has favored since the pandemic began is Trader Joe’s “Everything But the Bagel Sesame Seasoning Blend,” a savory mix that includes dried garlic and onion. It’s delicious, but it makes using the leftover challah —assuming there is some—for French toast the next day problematic. (Garlic flakes and maple syrup don’t strike me as an appetizing combo!)

Instead, Melissa draws on another family recipe for a dish called Hopple Popple that combines cubed bread with eggs, roasted vegetables, cheese and meat. Depending on what’s in your fridge, infinite variations are possible, she said. As with most of her cooking, Melissa doesn’t usually use a recipe, but, for the CTJ class and this newsletter, she provided one:

In her introduction to her “old-school” challah recipe, Tamah Kushner explains that her family calls the bread Cocaine Challah “because you can’t eat just one bite.” The original family recipe, which she has been making for 25 years, makes five loaves. Pre-pandemic, that amount worked just fine for Tamah, her husband Greg Davidson, and their three children (now adults) because their Shabbat table often included guests.

“I always make lots of challah,” Tamah explained. “If my dinner is a complete flop, at least they have the challah.”

In pre-COVID-19 days, Tamah would serve two loaves of challah at dinner, then give a half or whole loaf to everyone there to serve for breakfast the next day. The recipe she used in her class (see below) cuts the amount down to make two large or three smaller loaves.

The thing Tamah misses most these days is not having people over for dinner—that, and not being able to see her new grandson, Beau Samuel Davidson, born earlier this month.

Tamah’s note on flour during the Zoom class:

Always have extra on hand since the total of six cups may not be enough (she divided the original recipe, which made 5 loaves and used almost an entire 5-lb. bag of flour.) Add additional flour, about a half cup at a time, so you don’t add too much. (After you make challah a few times, you learn when it feels right, but there’s a bit of trial and error involved—like everything else in life!)

Tamah enjoys the tactile pleasure of making the loaves by hand. “Kneading the dough is one of my favorite things. That, and watching people eat the bread.”

Unlike many others, Tamah’s recipe doesn’t call for an egg wash and seeds. Instead, she braids her loaves and puts them in loaf pans to rise. “I don’t like egg wash. I like it rustic looking.”

Our cat, Jinx, is totally fascinated by Tamah’s Zoom presentation.

She also adds more sweetener than is called for in many challah recipes, plus some vanilla. Perhaps these additions account for the bread being so addictive and living up to its name!

A traditional Jewish practice that Tamah mentioned during the Zoom class is called Separating the Challah, the custom of removing part of the dough and burning or discarding it in order to remind us of those who are in need. This seems particularly appropriate at this moment. You can find out more about it and the prayer associated with it by clicking this link.

For a sweet twist on tradition (which some, like my husband, may consider a sacrilege), mix a chopped Milky Way into the braid, top with chocolate and cinnamon, and bake in a loaf pan. Thanks for the idea, Tamah!

Before the pandemic forced her and everyone else to work from home, Tamah would make her challah at 5 or 6 in the morning and let it rise in the refrigerator all day. When she would return from work at CTJ, she would take the dough out of the fridge, punch it down, then shape it, let it rise a second time, and then bake it so that it would still be warm when the sabbath meal was served.

Tamah at the entrance of CTJ.

“When people come to dinner, the house smells of baked challah and whatever else I’m cooking,” she said. “It’s the smell of Shabbat.”

And, even now that it’s just her and husband Greg, along with the congregation celebrating a Zoom Shabbat, the smell of baked bread and good food makes the day special.

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