Bread

When Huguette Uhry married a local butcher from the town of Ingwiller in Alsace, her sisterin-law lived with her, helping with the cooking. They usually had eighteen people for lunch and dinner, including children, friends, and workers. Today, retired and living in nearby Bollwiller, Madame Uhry is known throughout Alsace as a great cook. Some of her recipes appear on the Web site judaisme.sdv.fr. Here is her brioche, which she starts one day and bakes Rosh Hashanah morning for breakfast, before the family goes to synagogue.

“Look at that beautiful brioche,” I overheard a guest saying at a Bat Mitzvah in Geneva. The brioche was the glistening round challah made by Nicole Garai, the rabbi’s wife. During the service at the hidden Quai du Seujet Synagogue, located near the Rhône River, Nicole helps her husband by escorting assigned readers to the bima (platform). The Garais, French Jews, came to Switzerland to start this synagogue in the 1980s. Nicole told me that she bakes challah for people of whom she is fond, like her congregant, Juliette Laurent, braiding it in a round to signify the circle of life for Rosh Hodesh (the first of the month); she also makes it for the new year, and for Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. I especially liked the way she decorated the challah, by first liberally sprinkling a thick band of sesame seeds, then poppy seeds all over the top of the bread. Another trick she uses is to brush the bread twice: once at the beginning of the second rise, after the bread is braided, and again just before she pops it into a cold oven. The procedure of turning on the heat after the bread is in the oven must date back a long time, at least to the beginning of home wood ovens.

Walking through the colorful Belleville market in Paris one Friday morning, I came across a Jewish bakery. Glancing in the window, I was surprised to see a triangular Tunisian Friday night bread called bejma, made out of three balls of dough. It was similar in flavor to a good eastern European challah. A few years later, I passed by a branch of Charles Traiteur, on the Boulevard Voltaire, and there was the bejma again, this time placed right next to the eastern European challah.

Daniel Helmstetter lives his life by the sign that hangs above his bakery in Colmar: “Le talent et la passion.” A fourth-generation baker, he told me that he “fell into the mixer and never came out.” The Helmstetter Bakery was started by his grandfather in 1906 in the central square of Colmar, a town once known for its large Jewish population. Each Thursday and Friday, Daniel still makes barches au pavot, an oval-shaped challah with poppy seeds and a thin braid on top, for his Jewish clientele. Barches (also spelled berches), which means “twisted,” is also a derivation of the Hebrew word birkat (blessing), from the verse in Proverbs 10:22, Birkat Adonai hi ta-ashir, “The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich.” “A local rabbi said that the braid represents the tribes of Israel,” Daniel told me over coffee and pastry at his home near the bakery. “And the poppy seeds, the manna in the desert.” Poppy seeds, once grown in the region, may have disappeared from the fields, but the taste from them lingers on. For his barches, Daniel makes a dough that is tighter than his baguette dough, so that it can be easily braided. In a few nineteenth-century versions, boiled potatoes were substituted for some of the flour in the dough, perhaps to help preserve the loaf over the course of the Sabbath.

In the Middle Ages, pain pétri (kneaded bread) got its name because women kneaded and formed the bread at home and then baked the loaves in public ovens, a tradition that remained in Morocco until recent years. Even in the late Middle Ages, when bread could be easily purchased from a baker, Jewish women still made the pain pétri as one of the three mitzvoth that a woman performs for the Sabbath. (The other two are to light candles, and to go to the ritual bath, or mikveh.) The Sabbath tables of even Reform and Liberal Jews have two loaves of bread. These represent the double portion of manna that was gathered on the eve of the Sabbath during the forty years of wandering in the wilderness. Except on the eve of the Sabbath, manna had to be gathered daily, for it spoiled overnight. Madame Hamier made her recipe using cake yeast, something not readily available in the United States these days, so I have substituted dry yeast here.

Kalonymus Ben Kalonymus, a Provençal Jewish philosopher, writer, and translator who wrote in the early part of the fourteenth century, satirized the Jewish community of Arles for dreaming, while at synagogue, about the honey, milk, and flour that they would use to make their ladder breads for Shavuot. Although fougasse was and is usually made with oil, at this Jewish holiday celebrating the giving of the Torah and the abundance of dairy products at the time of the barley harvest, the Jews used milk. The fougasse was baked in the shape of a so- called ladder, with holes, and candied cherries or candied orange peel hung or embedded in the dough. Ladders to heaven are a common metaphor for holiday breads in Judaism. The fougasse, kneaded and shaped by hand at home for the Sabbath and holidays, was then carried on a board to the baker, sometimes Jewish and sometimes Christian, depending on the size of the Jewish community in the town.

A chapati is like a tortilla. Unlike a corn tortilla, it is made out of wheat flour. Unlike a wheat tortilla, it is made out of whole-wheat flour known as ata or chapati flour. You may use a tortilla press or a chapati press (they are almost the same) instead of rolling each one out with a rolling pin. Small thin chapatis (about 5 inches in diameter) are considered much more elegant than large thick ones, though you will find all sizes in the cities and villages of India. Those who eat chapatis daily eat them with everything at lunch and dinner. You break off a piece and enfold a piece of meat or vegetable in it. If you want to spice up the morsel a bit more, you brush it against a chutney or pickle. You could also roll up some food inside a whole chapati, to make a kind of “wrap,” though you would not do this at the table, only with leftovers to make a snack.

The dough for the paratha is similar to that of a poori but is rolled out very differently to give it multiple layers. It is cooked on a cast-iron griddle rather like a pancake, with butter, ghee, or oil to keep it lubricated. This particular paratha, among the simplest to make, is triangular in shape. Parathas are a very popular breakfast food when they are eaten with yogurt and pickles. They may also be served at mealtimes with meats and vegetables.

A poori requires almost the same dough as the chapati, except there is a little oil in it. It is rolled out almost the same way too, but then, instead of being cooked on a hot, griddle-like surface, it is deep-fried quickly in hot oil, making it puff up like a balloon. (When the same bread is made with white flour, as it is in Bengal, it is called a loochi.) Pooris may be eaten with all curries and vegetables. At breakfast, pooris are often served with potato dishes—such as Potato and Pea Curry or Potatoes with Cumin and Mustard Seeds—and hot pickles and chutneys. They are eaten very much like chapatis—you break off a piece and roll some vegetable in it, then brush it against a pickle or chutney. We always took them on picnics with us, all stacked up inside a tin. On picnics and train journeys, they were eaten with ground-meat dishes and pickles, all at room temperature.

There are many feast days in the Greek Orthodox calendar which are marked in the kitchen. Easter is the most important. The date is movable, fixed on the first Sunday following the full moon of the spring equinox, but generally falling within the first half of April. Houses are whitewashed and decorated with lilac, clothes are made, and new shoes are bought. There is much activity in the kitchen, for the feast also marks the breaking of forty days’ Lenten fast and a complete fast on Good Friday. Solemn candlelit processions are followed by national rejoicing to celebrate the Resurrection. Paschal Lambs are roasted on spits in gardens and open spaces, and the innards are used for mayeritsa soup, which is finished with the favorite egg-and-lemon mixture. Hard-boiled eggs are dyed red, a color supposed to have protective powers, and polished with olive oil, and a sweet braided bread is adorned with them.

These very thin, soft breads, which you can roll up, are like Bedouin skillet breads. They work very well for me in a skillet, and I finish them under a broiler, but you can also bake them. For the topping, you can buy ready-made zaatar mixtures, which contain thyme and the tangy spice sumac, in Middle Eastern stores. You need only add olive oil. But it is easy enough to make your own zaatar mix at home. My favorite is simply thyme and sesame seeds with salt and olive oil. The quantities here make for a richer than usual topping. Serve the breads for breakfast, with labneh (see page 112), as a snack with a salad, or as an appetizer, cut into wedges.

There are many North African semolina breads. I love this crusty, crumbly one with a rich aniseed flavor.

In Algeria they sometimes bake it on a griddle or skillet, but that didn’t work well for me.

The flatbread with a pouch which we know as pita is khubz, which means “bread,” in the Arab world. In Egypt, eish baladi (eish means “life” and baladi means “local”) is made with a mix of whole-wheat and unbleached white flour, while the one made with white flour is called eish shami (shami means “Syrian”). The bread is round and 8 inches in diameter.

If you’re ever in Sydney, Australia, there is a breakfast place in Darlinghurst called bills. The name is simple, and the place serves simply some of the best food I’ve ever had. When you order coffee, the waiter brings out small plates of warm toasted coconut bread freshly dusted with powered sugar. After one bite, my girlfriend and I decided to go back for breakfast every morning for the rest of our trip. This bread really holds up if you wrap it in plastic or put it in a storage container. You’ll still be snacking on it days later.

Dried cranberries, widely available today, fleck the texture of this bread. If you use fresh berries that were frozen, be sure they are at room temperature because frozen berries affect the baking time. Toast the walnuts while preheating the oven.

Whenever bananas get a bit too ripe, I bake banana nut bread and keep a few loaves in the freezer. Whole wheat flour enhances the nuttiness of the loaves. Baking time in the convection oven is reduced by 10 to 15 minutes for either size loaf.

This simple, wholesome bread is made with stone-ground rye flour. Baked in the convection oven, the crust is chewy and flavorful. It is not as dense a bread as others in this category, therefore it bakes at a slightly higher temperature. This is the bread we baked in the oven of the woodstove when I was growing up on the farm in northern Minnesota. The wood oven creates heat that circulates much like that of a convection oven. I have finally been able to bake bread that closely resembles my childhood favorite!

This bread is close-textured, grainy, and full of hearty flavor. It slices most easily the day after it is baked. Serve it very thinly sliced with a flavorful cheese such as gjetost, Jarlsberg, or Danish Havarti.

This is an easy refrigerator dough method, which requires no kneading. Once refrigerated for 2 to 24 hours, it is easy to shape and bake a number of different ways. These breads are rich with special ingredients, which will all brown quickly while baking. So, the baking temperature must be lower than that of conventional ovens while the baking time remains about the same. You’ll be delighted with the moist crumb; because the crust is formed early in the baking, it locks in moisture.