“Gimpel the Fool”

CHALLAH

My grandfather grew up in a Yiddish-speaking household in Dorchester, Massachusetts, with his mother, father, brother, and grandmother. To this day, he still talks about the challah that his grandmother used to make—big braided loaves that she kept warm on the apartment’s radiators, filling the whole house with their aroma, and the tiny individual rolls she snuck him and his brother after school. He remembers the challah so vividly that I can taste and smell it whenever he talks about it, but sadly, aside from an armload of everyday phrases and terms of endearment, he doesn’t remember how to speak Yiddish.

When I discovered Isaac Bashevis Singer’s stories in college, I wished more than anything that I could read them in their original language. Saul Bellow translated “Gimpel the Fool” in 1953, introducing Singer to an American audience for the first time. As good as the translation no doubt is, I suspect that much was lost between the languages. Whenever I ask Papa or my uncle Peter to translate a Yiddish word for me, it takes them full minutes to explain—there is always a connection to another word that is reminiscent of something else entirely, which relates to the story of such-and-such—it’s beautiful to listen to. If one word takes that long to explain, though, I can only imagine what an impossible task it would be to translate an entire collection of Yiddish stories without losing any meaning along the way.

Regardless of what is lost in translation, I never tire of Singer’s writing. Food—specifically bread—is everywhere in Gimpel the Fool and Other Stories. In “Abba and His Seven Sons,” Pesha, when she baked challah for lunch, “would grasp the first loaf and carry it, hot from the oven, blowing on it all the while and tossing it from hand to hand, to show it to Abba, holding it up, front and back, till he nodded approval.” In “The Unseen” a man eats his Rosh Hashanah meal in total darkness—he “blindly dunked a slice of bread in honey, and tasted an apple, a carrot, the head of a carp, and offered a blessing for the first fruit, over a pomegranate.”

It was Gimpel the bread baker who first drew me to Singer, and Gimpel whom I thought of all day last week while I made round challahs for Rosh Hashanah. I was lucky enough to be home with my family for the holiday, and my sisters and I spent all day kneading and punching and braiding dough, loaves rising on every radiator, just like in my grandpa’s tiny childhood apartment.

“GIMPEL THE FOOL”

Challah

Challah, like most bread, can be tricky. I’ve tried a million different techniques—letting it rise in the sun, letting it rise in the oven, using honey instead of sugar, increasing the amount of eggs and decreasing the amount of yeast—and they were all good, but not perfect. The trick, as I’ve learned over and over again with raised doughs, is giving it a cold, slow rise after its first two warm rises. If you’re short on time, two warm, fast rises will do just fine, but a cold, slow rise gives the bread a whole new depth of flavor and a texture that’s somehow both airy and chewy at once, just as a good challah should be.

Makes 2 loaves

1½ tablespoons active dry yeast

1 tablespoon sugar

1¾ cups warm water (110°F)

½ cup vegetable oil

5 large eggs

½ cup sugar

1 tablespoon fine sea salt

8 cups bread flour

Coarse sea salt, for sprinkling

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, dissolve the yeast and sugar in the warm water. With the mixer running, whisk the oil into the yeast mixture. Add 4 of the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition, then whisk in the sugar and fine sea salt. Remove the whisk attachment and switch to the dough hook.

With the mixer running, slowly add the flour, about a cup at a time, and mix until the dough just comes together. At this point, turn out the dough onto a floured surface and knead it by hand until it is smooth and elastic, 3 to 5 minutes.

Place the dough in a greased bowl, cover it with a clean towel, and let it rise in a warm place for 1 hour. After an hour it should be about doubled in size. Punch the dough down, cover it again, and let it rise for another 30 to 45 minutes.

After the second rise, refrigerate the covered bowl of dough for 12 to 24 hours.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper, and lightly grease the parchment. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and divide it into two even pieces. Shape the pieces into loaves, and lay one on each lined baking sheet.

Beat the remaining egg in a small bowl and brush it onto the loaves (reserve the remaining egg wash). If you’re making round loaves (traditional for Rosh Hashanah), place them in two oven-safe bowls or round cake pans lined with greased parchment paper. Cover and let them rise in a warm place for 1 more hour.

Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Brush the loaves again with the egg wash and sprinkle with the coarse sea salt. Bake until the loaves sound hollow when you tap them in the center, 40 to 60 minutes (the time will vary depending on whether you made round or straight loaves). If you have a thermometer, the internal temperature of the bread should be 190°F. Turn the finished breads out onto a cooling rack. Eat with everything for every meal.