Hey Party-Makers,
I’m sitting in my disaster of a house right now. It’s been one of those weeks—you know, the kind where you wear stretchy pants all week, can’t remember when you last washed your hair, and have zero ideas on where to start cleaning your house. It’s also been one of those weeks though, where I’ve somehow managed to keep my to-do list checked off in all the right places, and I’ve experienced some beautiful, wonderful time creating things and eating good food. You win some, you lose some; I’ll typically take good food over most other things anyways.
As I’ve been thinking about Thanksgiving this year, I’ve been on a journey of creating space for gratitude in my day-to-day life. I’ve been doing this by keeping a note in my phone open with a list of the things I’m thankful for. I jot things down as I think of them throughout the week. This list ranges from 7:00 sunrise drives across the city, to parmesan cheese. I don’t add things to it everyday, but I’ve been glancing at it regularly; looking over things I’m thankful for in moments when I feel discouraged or tired. It’s a good spirit-lifter—to see that there are good, beautiful things in my life even when I’m in a head space where I can’t remember them or would rather wallow in complaining.
And as I root myself in gratitude, I’m finding rest. Rest in closing my eyes as I smell fresh baked bread in my house. Rest in the early mornings when I’m mad about waking up, and Benjamin is tiptoeing patiently around my grumpiness—luring out my good humor with hot coffee and breakfast. Rest in rainy afternoons spent editing pictures, with Estel curled up next to me. Rest while I’m stuck in traffic with an Uber rider who is telling me about their travels in Cambodia, or their upcoming fishing trip to Cuba, or about how nice it is to ride in a quiet car.
Gratitude is having this soothing, calming effect on my day-to-day. It’s voice is getting stronger and stronger. Reminding me that even if it doesn’t feel like it, everything is going to be okay. Even if it’s not. And if it’s not, there will be pain, joy, and healing, and growth. And those are all good things, you know? Eventually, and with the intention to move forward, they’re all good things.
Thinking through how I want to celebrate this season of Thanksgiving with y’all, I’ve realized that I want it to radiate rest, joy, and gratitude. I want your celebrations to be full of life. I want you to have good, heart-filling conversations with those you love. I want you to feel unburdened by the expectations of hosting, and challenged instead to ask for help when you need it, and to only do what you can. I say this as someone who overcommits to every aspect of celebrating.
This recipe is one my mom would make a lot on Fridays. We are not Jewish, but traditionally, Challah bread is made to celebrate Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest. Wherever you stand with religion, God, or spiritual practices, the concept that we as human beings need intentional time of rest is beautiful, freeing, and healthy. There have been seasons when I’ve been really good at rest, and others where I’ve completely forgotten what it looks and means like to rest. Right now, I’m in a funk of escaping the latter, and chasing after not just situational, but regular, healthy rest.
I like Challah bread as a Thanksgiving food for a couple of reasons.
- It. Is. Beautiful. Something that is important to me is that food be delicious, and that it look good. I tend to eat with my eyes before I eat with my tummy.
- It is symbolic. As a symbol of rest, Challah bread can be your restful recipe. Put on your favorite podcast, pop-in your favorite movie, listen to calming music. Sit and read a book while your dough rises, and enjoy the simple beauty (and built-in work out) of kneading your dough.
- It’s the perfect substitute for dinner rolls, as the braided strands come apart easily like rolls. And I mean, just picture it: passing around your loaf of beautiful Challah, and each person at your table taking their own strand of the same piece of bread. Not to get too cheesy too fast, but there’s some great symbolism about unity in that image.
A couple of notes on making Challah bread
Challah is a pretty easy bread to make (when you consider that sourdough takes several days of fermenting to make), and can be made in about three hours. If you have a bread maker, this will be even easier, as you can have the bread maker do all the heavy kneading. The recipe below will be for good ‘ole fashioned hand kneading, though.
About braiding
You can easily braid Challah into a three-strand braid, like you would hair, by simply dividing the dough into three equal parts, rolling into strips and braiding. For my loaf, I did a six-strand braid. It is not hard to do, but it is hard to explain. If you’re a visual learner like me, this video is a great tutorial for the six-strand braid.
Garnishing
I like to add sesame seeds to my Challah loaf before I bake it. Some people add pumpkin seeds. Feel free to experiment, or simply leave the loaf plain. You won’t want to skimp on the egg-white on the loaf before baking though, that is what gives it it’s beautiful, glossy finish.
Feel free to make a test-run of Challah before Thanksgiving! You might even like it so much that you start making it regularly. If that’s the case, you’ll find that it’s really delicious for french toast, covered in brie, or drizzled with honey.
Love, rest & gratitude,
Mary-Beth Johnson
Mary-Beth is a creative, food-obsessed, Georgia transplant living Chicago. She is proudly and fiercely Latina, and more specifically Chapina. In her day to day she is a food educator to students around Chicagoland aged 3 to 80+, both virtually and in-person. She is passionate about cultivating the truth that every person has an understanding of food that deserves being brought to the table, and that time in the kitchen can be sacred, passionate, and an act of love for self and others. Outside the kitchen you can find her at the intersections of infertility, chronic illness, and a deep love for the dignity of all humans. She hopes to create a space that is holistic about the role of food in the social, political, relational, and physiological dynamics of our world.
