What's the secret to great babka? It could be the kvetching, or the chocolate
I love that babka translates to “little grandma” in Yiddish, because the sweet braided bread — with swirls of filling reminiscent of Bubbe’s pleated skirt — is always as comforting as one.
My grandmother didn’t teach me to fill and braid this beloved pastry. My passion for babka was sparked by shopping the aisles of Zabar’s on New York’s Upper West Side when I was in college. Picking up a babka, ordering lox at the counter and bringing home various pickled provisions made me feel connected to the previous generations of my Ashkenazi family who had landed first in Brooklyn then Manhattan and perused the same shelves, seeking familiar foods from home.
Babka's history goes back to 19th century Eastern Europe, when it was prepared with leftover challah dough and fillings were traditionally made of nuts or poppyseeds. But chocolate babka is considered a Jewish American innovation. I’ve embraced babka innovation by experimenting with loaves in many flavors: apple butter babka, cardamom à la Scandinavian confections, and even savory babkas. I’m not beholden to tradition but believe in evolution!
Babka can be divisive. Many points are hotly debated: which filling you prefer, whether you use butter or oil to keep it kosher, whether it’s bread or cake, whether you should glaze (or not), and even what time of day it should be enjoyed. It’s not quite a breakfast pastry because of its decadence, but it’s not really a dessert either.
I think this kvetching is what makes babka so versatile and full of potential, beyond whether it’s defined as this or that. Babka in all forms can be, well … better. I like to think of it as any other yeasted pastry like cinnamon rolls or danish where the filling can be seasonal. And if left on the counter, it can be enjoyed throughout the day.
Babka can also be an undertaking, but when you break it down into a formula (dough, filling, glaze/syrup) and master the technique (confidence is key!) it really comes down to patience — with a more than worthwhile reward. Babka, after all, is spectacular.
These three takes on chocolate babka are simultaneously modern and nostalgic. With depth of flavor and playfulness, they take inspiration from Jewish classics. I’ve found that chocolate babka can be a little one-note and cloyingly sweet. But each of these recipes uses complementary ingredients that will enhance flavor and provide necessary balance.
My chocolate gelt babka is filled with a dark chocolate hazelnut spread and sprinkled with golden jewels of crushed amaretti cookies. It’s nutty and rich, and the cookies add a fun and unexpected crunch. It’s then enrobed in a glossy chocolate espresso glaze, with coffee and vanilla being two of the ingredients that bring out that peak chocolate flavor. This babka is guaranteed to be far more thrilling to cut into than peeling those dusty gold coins at Hanukkah.
Next we have a black and white babka that’s inspired by the eponymous cookie and Jewish deli classics like egg creams and malteds. This babka features a fudge filling, where the malt powder adds a toasted, almost caramel flavor to both the bittersweet chocolate filling and the vanilla glaze.
Dr. Brown’s black cherry soda inspires a third version of babka, perhaps the most unusual of the bunch. The black sesame cocoa filling is studded with spoonfuls of cherry preserves, making it both earthy and tart. Before baking you’ll add cocoa crumbles for even more chocolate flavor/texture, and finish with a kirsch syrup that will absorb into the babka, keeping it moist and in the Black Forest flavor profile that the soda is known for.
Almost every babka recipe I’ve seen over the years yields two loaves. And these are no different. Maybe it’s because of the time invested that one babka simply isn’t enough, but I like to think that part of the tradition of making babka is to make one for yourself and to gift the other.
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This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
