15 March, 2015
I Ain’t No Challah-Back GirlComments : 3 Posted in : baking, bread pudding, breakfast, Challah, food, french toast, funny, humor, Jewish, Uncategorized on by : Jeanette Schramm
First, I would like to apologize for the title. I couldn’t pass up the reference to a bad 2000s pop song.
Songs from early high school aside, today’s yummy recipe is brought to you in part by Malek’s Bakery, in Brighton, NY. It’s a little Jewish bakery tucked away on the side of Monroe Ave. They have a grand assortment of pastries, cakes, breads, and cookies, as well as some of the friendliest bakery staff you’ll ever meet. Check them out sometime (and I strongly recommend buying some of their chocolate babka, when you do check them out)!
Today, though, we’re going to talk about how you can make french toast/bread pudding out of challah (pronounced “HA-lah,” with a gurgly (glottal) h sound, if you can make it).
I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, so I have a cold.
It’s times like these that I’m glad I often have a second pair of hands around the place.
The first step to making the challah pudding is to break the bread into chunks. I went for somewhere between one and two inches for piece size. The boyfriend was my bread-breaker, since I was set on not touching the food directly.
For a two-person serving, I was told by my mother to use about 1/4 of the loaf.
Once the bread was broken and spread out evenly in the pan, I turned my attention to making the liquid portion of the pudding.
For this much bread, I used somewhere between a 1/2 cup and 3/4 cup of milk, 1 egg (beaten) and three drops of vanilla extract. I mixed those together and poured it over the bread.
On top of that, I sprinkled nutmeg, cinnamon, and brown sugar.
The next part involves waiting.
A lot of waiting.
Had I known, I would have started this last night and let it sit in the fridge overnight. Instead, I started it this morning and had to wait for it to soak up all the liquid. After about an hour, I moved the dish from the counter to the fridge.
By around 2 p.m., I was getting impatient. It had been about three hours since I started cooking and there was still liquid in the dish. I took a spoon and turned the pieces over individually, in an effort to get the tops of the bread wet. The bottom parts that had been sitting in the liquid were nice and soft.
I preheated the oven to 350 degrees.
I realized I had put a little too much milk in the mix, and I probably would have been just fine with the 1/2 cup my mother had originally told me to use.
I put it in the oven for 30 minutes. I was told to bake it until it was dry.
In the meantime, I made myself a liverwurst sandwich and a cup of tea.
The apartment started to smell like waffles. After 30 minutes, I peeked into the oven. It was ready.
I scooped it out of the dish with a spoon, plated it up, and served it with maple syrup.
Alternatively, I suppose I could have opted for a joke about Valhalla/Val-challah and posted a link to this video.