LOAFING AROUND

One of Rosh Hashanah’s sweetest traditions revolves around a loaf of bread. Customary for the Jewish New Year, a circular challah symbolizes many things, among them continuity.  The conclusion of one year and the beginning of a new one provides a fresh canvas. I take the same approach with challah, a bread that is both showy and stubborn. Some bakers find challah making leisurely, spiritual, even restorative. It can be all of those things but primarily I see it as a study in and acknowledgement of imperfection. In pursuit of a cover girl challah lies the reality that a flawless loaf is in the eyes of the beholder.
At its best, the eggy dough is lush and pillowy, neither sticky nor dry. Well behaved challah dough rises dramatically without over proofing. It is agreeable to twists and turns without recoiling like a Slinky.and welcomes raisins or apples with the same ease as it does poppy or sesame seeds. Yet challah plays by its own set of rules reminding me each time that the dough will be ready when it's good and ready. This of course, results in a less meditative and therapeutic experience. I remind myself that challah is about the process, the crafting of the bread. 
Despite use of a kitchen scale with fresh batteries and a ruler with clear digits, I generally have to walk away during the process, allowing the ropes of dough (and the baker) to calm down. With each Rosh Hashanah, challah is the reminder of renewal, beginning with a thickly plaited, honey-sweetened (albeit imperfect) loaf. While braiding the four strands, (left moving to the right, over two and under one), I wondered if the little girls who excelled at braiding Barbie's ponytail grew up with a talent for braiding challah. Or do they opt for a store bought loaf? I'll choose to make my own, (slightly flawed) loaf every time because it reflects another chance to start fresh.