The Compleat And Actual Adventures of Marcella White Campbell

Did you know there were Challah Wars going on? Do you even know what challah is? Say no, that I may educate you.

Photo by Brew*Crew

Wikipedia will, of course, tell you what challah is and list challah references in popular culture and so forth, but the most satisfyingly exhaustive source on Jewish food, in my opinion, is Claudia Roden’s appropriately titled The Book of Jewish Food. If it ain’t in there, Jews don’t eat it.¹

According to Roden:

The name “hallah” ["portion, in Hebrew] was given to a bread in South Germany in the Middle Ages, when it was adopted by Jews for the Sabbath. It was the traditional local Sunday loaf, and its various shapes and designs were in the local tradition of decorative breads…The bread became the Jewish ritual bread in Germany, Austria, and Bohemia and was taken to Poland, Eastern Europe, and Russia when the Jews migrated east.

At our house, we eat it on Friday night, after we light the Sabbath candles and say the blessing over the kids and the wine and Hamotzi, the prayer over bread. We cover it with one of the challah covers each child made in Hebrew school (we are required to alternate covers from week to week to avoid bloodshed at the Sabbath table. I am confident this is addressed in the Mishnah).

We all love Shabbat. The four of us come together around the dinner table, whether over a four-course chicken meal or a pizza, depending on how the week has been going, and we turn down the lights and I say the mother’s blessing while lighting the candles and there is silence and paying of attention, even by the small one. And we kiss them on their foreheads after the blessing over children and we all sip from the kiddush cup and then we say Hamotzi and uncover the loaf and break off pieces of bread, and the magic is largely over, though it lingers in the background.

Voices rise, children bicker over table space, and everyone rates the challah.

Many people make their own challah. San Francisco is blessed with multiple artisanal bakeries, many of whom bake a Friday challah, so who am I to compete with them, though I can turn out a perfectly acceptable loaf?

For years, I have grabbed one depending on where I am standing when I suddenly have the panicky Friday afternoon realization that, yet again, I have forgotten to buy challah.

If I am outside the children’s school, or in Pacific Heights or Cole Valley, I run over to an outpost of Bay Bread. If I am in the Richmond District, I hit up House of Bagels. Near home, I go to Arizmendi and hope they have not run out, or we will have to make motzi over a baguette again. If I am very clever and remind my husband, he can leave work at lunch and pick one up at Acme in the Ferry building. If it is after seven, we are stuck with the bagged Semifreddi challah at Andronico’s, and the Sabbath table becomes a consciousness raising group for small, angry challah eaters.

With the exception of Semifreddi, which we know we hate, we always insist that the challah we are eating is one of the better ones. But they can’t all be the better ones, can they? I thought some Science was in order, so, over the next few weeks, I will endeavor to try one fresh-baked challah every week. I will pit each challah against the other in a ruthless competition. One challah will be the All-San Francisco Challah Champion.

It will probably not be Semifreddi. But Semifreddi is not here to make friends, so who knows what plot twists may occur?

[This segment was brought to you by the Gladware family of products.]

Now that you know about challah, and you know about Challah Wars, you are educated enough to read the rest of this post. Congratulations!

Challah Wars 1: Bay Bread Poppyseed

Last week, I had the challah panic attack while picking the children up from school, so Boulange de Hayes (a Bay Bread bakery) was the obvious choice. I bought the last one in the bakery at 3:30 PM on Friday. (San Franciscans believe in ABC: Always Buy Challah. You see why we end up with Semifreddi’s?)

It was very pretty.

I would have bought a plain one, but, see above.

Crust: DEEPLY caramelized, with an almost alcoholic flavor. I could have peeled it off the loaf and eaten it all.

Interior: Dry, almost too dry. Fairly compact crumb.

Fluffiness: Kind of.

Flakiness: No. Not much egg here.

Sweetness: Slightly sweeter than I like, but not by much.

Verdict: This challah is a B+, largely based on the nummy crust. Not my first choice, but not disappointing.

Hooray! One bakery down. Next week will likely be Arizmendi’s special round High Holidays challah, which I know is unfair, but I am not here to make friends, I am here to win Challah Wars and all their attendant Gladware.²

Chag Sameach!