Tag: babka

Mandylicious babka baking

Mandy Silverman (photo from mandyliciouschallah.com)

Dozens of eager bakers joined Mandy Silverman, aka Mandylicious, for an evening of “thinking inside the braid,” as she shared various ways of making babkas – as well as her enthusiasm towards them – during a Zoom class hosted by Congregation Schara Tzedeck before Passover.

Silverman, a self-described “carbololgist,” is founder of Mandylicous Challah in Sharon, Mass. She was accompanied in this pre-Pesach virtual baking binge – titled Babkalicious with Mandylicious – by her husband and assistant, Dannylicious. The setting was their East Coast kitchen, where, by the time the first ingredients hit the mixing bowl, it was past 10 p.m., for them.

She demonstrated both traditional and new-wave babkas: the first, a standard babka twist filled with chocolate and, the second, shaped like a flower and filled with cookie dough. The secret for the latter’s filling is brown sugar, Silverman confided.

Throughout the presentation, she provided the audience with numerous pointers regarding the dough. Her recipes called for a more glutenous flour, one that is called bread flour – as opposed to all-purpose flour – which “helps the dough ball up easier.” Early on, she emphasized the importance of using instant yeast, which “means that it can just be added in with the rest of the ingredients in no particular order.” She suggested one should avoid quick-rise or rapid-rise yeasts, except when there is no alternative available.

“You can use it – you just have to proof it first. To proof active dry yeast, use the same amount (one tablespoon) but add it to one-third cup [of] 40ºC water and a pinch of sugar, and mix. When it bubbles, the yeast has been activated and can be added to the rest of the ingredients. Use one-third cup less water in the rest of the recipe,” she said.

photo - A heart-shaped chocolate babka made by Mandy Silverman, aka Mandylicious
A heart-shaped chocolate babka made by Mandy Silverman, aka Mandylicious. (photo from facebook.com/mandyliciouschallah)

“Dough consistency is crucial,” she stressed. “Dough that is too wet will be hard to shape and won’t bake properly. Dough that is too dry will not rise well and [will] taste dense and floury. The goal is to create a cohesive ball of dough that is not floury to the touch. Dough consistency can vary from kitchen to kitchen based on weather, humidity levels and type of flour used. You can get your dough to the proper consistency simply by adding flour or water, one or two tablespoons at a time, as the dough comes together, before the first rise – dough consistency will not improve as the dough rises.

“If you are finding that you are having to add a lot of flour, try using one-third cup less water at first and adding more as necessary,” she added. “After the first rise, dough can be refrigerated for up to five days or frozen for up to a month.”

Completely self-taught, Silverman became curious about baking after a family friend in her hometown of St. Louis would not divulge the recipe of a challah filled with honey. Before then, she confessed, she had never made anything with yeast, but decided to face the challenge.

Silverman started Mandylicious in 2013. During American Thanksgiving that November, which coincided with Chanukah, she posted an image of a turkey-shaped challah with a pumpkin-flavoured stuffing on Facebook. The image was so widely shared that people drove from as far away as New Hampshire and Maryland to purchase her challah. Since then, she has created more than 300 challah and babka recipes and has developed a worldwide following, including more than 33,000 Instagram followers.

Her fearlessness with challah and babka indicates that nearly all things can go well with the right dough. Among her culinary inventions, which she has described as “a diving board into carbs,” are Buffalo chicken challah, salami challah, pistachio pesto-stuffed challah and a red-velvet Christmas challah. Recent variations posted on her Instagram page have included challah French toast with a caramel core, rainbow-coloured challah (with rainbow sprinkles) and a strawberry and vanilla babka with a Fruity Pebbles crust.

Besides selling challah and babka and teaching classes, Silverman loves sharing recipes and tips, and supporting others who want to make their own challah. In the Boston area, Mandylicious offers a rotating assortment of gourmet challot. She uses 100% kosher and dairy-free ingredients and keeps a kosher kitchen.

For the recipes covered during the March 18 lesson, go to images.shulcloud.com/197/uploads/MandyliciousBabkaClass-Vancouver.pdf. Silverman is open to questions and can be direct messaged @mandyliciouschallah on Instagram.

Silverman’s class was part of the eight-part Schara Tzedeck Speaker Series. Two speakers remain: Rabbi Dr. Edward Reichman, a professor at Montefiore Medical Centre and the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, on April 11; and Judaics educator Michal Horowitz, from Five Towns, N.Y., on April 25. The Zooms start at 7 p.m. Register via scharatzedeck.com.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

Chocolate babka debacle

Babka gone bad: The Accidental Balabusta’s first attempt at this Jewish treat was less than a stellar success. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

After I conquered challah and cholent, I felt it was time to tiptoe into the forbidden realm of babka. I say the word with a great deal of reverence, because, well, if you’ve ever eaten a spectacular babka, you know it’s something awe-inspiring. There are limitless variations of babka: chocolate, Nutella, boozy, apricot and cinnamon, pumpkin, butterscotch and more. I even found a recipe for babka ice cream sandwiches and babka bread pudding. This is not diet food. Never was. Never will be.

Babka is comprised of a basic challah dough or a butter challah dough. Every recipe is different and, sometimes, to achieve the perfect babka (which I am far from accomplishing) you need to do a bit of mixing and matching of recipes.

My first attempt at making chocolate babka was an unmitigated disaster. Not only was my dough so velvety soft that I couldn’t even roll it, but the filling was so thin that it smooshed out all over the place. Part of the problem was math. I have always been math challenged. In fact, I have a pair of socks that say: “The three things I hate most are math.” My brain shuts down when faced with mathematical conversions (yes, I know there are apps for that). Long story short, I mistakenly used a half-pound of butter instead of a half-cup of butter for my babka dough. Hence, the flaccid, unresponsive dough. Nobody likes flaccid dough. Most people don’t even like the word flaccid. Except sex therapists. Anyway….

My other challenge was not realizing that you have to refrigerate the dough for a bit before rolling it out and filling it. There are tons of YouTubes on how to make babka – I recommend viewing several of them before attempting this at home. Also, check out lots of Jewish cookbooks, too. I stress “Jewish” because we Jews know how to accentuate the caloric value of our food so that it tastes impossibly rich and irresistible. Jewish baking is famous for a reason. If a recipe calls for eight ounces of dark chocolate, what the hell, 12 ounces must be better. Half a cup of butter – why not half a pound? Don’t bother pointing it out. I see the error of my ways.

If my first attempt at babka was less than a stellar success, it’s not just because of the aforementioned infractions. My main excuse is my miniscule galley kitchen. I lay the blame squarely where it belongs: on the almost-nonexistent counter. Things are so squished in my kitchen that there’s very little room for food. Or utensils. Take, for example, my long, articulated spatula. It’s the perfect implement for shmearing the chocolate onto the dough before rolling it up. I digress.

Back to the babka. I started shmearing the chocolate and, part way though, I had to sneeze. So, I put the long spatula into the bowl with the melted chocolate sitting on my teeny, tiny counter. The sheer force of my sternutation – it was probably a 7.8 on the Richter scale – caused the chocolate-covered spatula to fly out of the bowl and splatter chocolate everywhere, and I mean everywhere. It ended up on the walls, the floor, me, the counter, the carpet and Harvey, who looked on in mute husbandly horror. It was like something out of a slasher movie. Except the splatter was 85% bittersweet cacao chocolate instead of blood. I could have been arrested for assault with a confectionery weapon. All that was missing was the yellow police tape.

As if that wasn’t enough, the excitement of it all caused me to knock the recipe into the sink, which was filled with dirty bowls and brown water. At that point, I almost cried. But I didn’t. Instead, I casually looked at my chocolate-covered hubby and said: “OK, no one died. I’m going to try again.” I was determined not to let this babka get the better of me. I was going to show it who was the boss.

After wiping chocolate off my face, the walls and the counter (I may have licked the counter), I rolled up the flaccid babka, shoved it into the fridge and poured myself a teeny, tiny single malt Scotch. Just to shore up my nerves. Once I’d consumed the liquid fortification, I took out the babka, sliced it down the middle lengthwise, which is kind of difficult when it’s not really a shape, and proceeded to twist it so that that the layers of dough and chocolate showed on the outside. Then, I carefully laid it to rest in a parchment-lined coffin. I mean loaf pan. Said Kaddish.

photo - Babka gone better: Subsequent babka attempts were more successful
Babka gone better: Subsequent babka attempts were more successful. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Since I’d made enough dough for about 15 babkas (by mistake, of course … remember my math impairment?), I now had to figure out what to do with the rest of it. I was tempted to sell it on Craigslist, but how would I even describe it? “Blob of velvety soft dough for sale. Nearly house-trained. Enough to make several loaves of bread or a small border wall. If frozen. Pick-up only. $10 obo.” In all honesty, I would have paid someone to take it off my hands at that point.

Stuck with all that dough, I shmeared and shaped the rest of it into circles, rectangles and free-form sculptures, jammed them into every available pan I had, and shoved them into the oven to bake. The entire procedure took about 11 hours. My bone graft and tooth implant took less time. I think I started the whole process at around 9 a.m. and didn’t remove the final “babka” (I use that word loosely) until around 8 p.m. Of course, I’m also factoring in the time it took the restoration team to steam clean our entire apartment. Should have just moved.

By that time, there was no way I was making dinner. So, we ate three-quarters of one chocolate babka for dinner. Slathered in even more butter. I think I may have sent both of us into a slight sugar coma. Not sure. No paramedics were called, so it couldn’t have been that traumatic.

I put the rest of the evidence into the freezer, for when I want to scare some unsuspecting dinner guests. I promise, here and now, that my next foray into babka-making will start with single malt Scotch.

If I’m lucky, it may end there, too.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.