Critical Kitchen answers your burning challah questions
Someone give that baby a slice of challah! June 2019.

Challah is one of my favorite breads to bake. There are just a few ingredients. The prep is straightforward and speedy. That fresh challah smell that slowly fills the house is magical. And eating it is always a community event. Plus, in the rare case that you have any left over after dinner, it makes a mean French toast.

As I’ve shared challah photos over the past several months, I’ve started to receive questions from fellow home bakers. Which recipes are most reliable? How do I braid it? How do you get that classic tear-apart texture? This post answers readers’ burning challah questions that go beyond not burning the challah.

A challah-day every week

My love of eating challah has been lifelong, but my experience with baking challah regularly is fairly recent.

This past winter we were at home in Baltimore deciding if we should brave an incoming snowstorm to attend a Shabbat potluck at our new synagogue. As a Southern Californian, I’ve never been comfortable driving in snow. But it was at that point just a dusting, and I’d stayed up painfully late the night before baking a massive challah.

Baking is my go-to friend-making strategy. With all that time and emotional labor invested, I couldn’t let the challah go to waste on just my family. So, I packed up the children and my introverted tendencies and we bundled into the car for shul.

Our tightly packed Honda Fit was immediately filled with the irresistible scent of fresh bread, but three minutes later I was already second-guessing myself. Surely, the synagogue already had a challah for Shabbat. What was I thinking? But it was too late. We arrived with just enough time for me to place the challah on the buffet table and grab seats for the family toward the back.

Five-strand challah, July 2019.

As usually happens when I step out of my comfort zone to connect with other humans, we had a wonderful time. The songs were familiar (mostly), the baby acquiesced to being held (mostly), and the older children restrained their arguments to loud whispers (at times). Then came the time for blessings before dinner.

We turned to see someone had lifted a massive, golden-brown challah high in the air, and the group joined in song. My first thought was, “Oh, well. They did have a bakery challah after all.” Then I realized it was mine.

Someone had commandeered my challah from the buffet table and elevated it, quite literally, to a place of honor that I hadn’t expected. It looked like it belonged there. And maybe we belonged there too. The best sign of all: there were no leftovers. Since then, I’ve made baking challah a regular habit.

So, how do you make a show-stopping challah? As with many dishes, it comes down to finding a recipe you love and baking it over and over. Before long, you’ll know how it should look at each stage, how it should feel as you’re kneading and braiding it, and exactly how you want it to taste.

What recipe should I use?

Choosing the right recipe is a matter of taste. Based on the challah you ate growing up, you might prefer one that is lighter or denser, eggy or more neutral, with a thin or thick crust.

My current favorite is from Michael Solomonov’s Zahav cookbook. I’ve baked it so many times that the book now naturally opens to the challah recipe when I pull it off the shelf.

Thanks to four cups of flour and seven egg yolks, it yields a challah massive enough for a crowd — what I call “the challah that ate another challah.” The dough is easy to handle, and yields a reliable tear-apart texture and robust but not overly decadent flavor.
['Critical Kitchen']
['Bread', 'Recipe', 'Baking', 'Food', 'Jewish']