Weaver's Web

For those of you unfamiliar, a challah is a bread made to mark either the Sabbath or other Jewish festivals. They're generally a light, fine textured bread, usually braided, often sweet, or at least sweeter than the typical daily fare. They maybe laced with cinnamon and dried fruit, or sprinkled with sesame or poppy seed.

I was hosting a committee meeting a few weeks back, and decided as it was starting on Friday evening, it would be most appropriate to bake a challah. I have a favorite old recipe for a whole wheat, slow rise challah made from white wheat (as opposed to red) & it seemed perfect. Give it was to feed 8 for the weekend, I doubled the recipe and baked one very big-assed challah.

I took the bread from the oven an hour before we sat down to dinner, painting it with a potato starch glaze while it was warm from the oven. It's scent was intoxicating.

In many Jewish homes, particularly Sephardic ones, tradition dictates that after the Motzi and the challah is cut, it is not passed, but rather tossed to the guests at the table. For our dinner, with 8 squeezed at the table, I stood at the kitchen counter, blessed and then cut the bread, after which pieces went flying thru the air to my guests, much to every one's delight and laughter. The texture of the bread was perfect, finely grained and faintly sweet, surprisingly so for whole wheat. I planned well; the challah provided just enough for 5 meals, the tail end of it reaching a noble end Sunday morning, as a healthy platter of French Toast.

The flavor has haunted me since. I have been itching to kneed that dough once again. Twice in the last two weeks I've dreamt I made a Chamsa (aka "Hand" Challah). Both dreams have been so richly vivid with detail, right down to the the yeasty, nutty aroma of home made bread, I was surprised the next morning it had only been a dream.

Anyone else out there, with a challah tale?