My one regret after making Aliyah last July is that I didn’t show my friend Patrick how I make challah. If I had, maybe he would have made Aliyah, too. He had asked me several times, but I never got around to it. Patrick and I were part of the same small but vibrant modern Orthodox Jewish community in Oakland. We argued a lot about politics, but our common ground was Israel, Judaism, and challah.

I started making challah about two years ago for reasons I didn’t understand at the time. I have nothing against bakery challah. Most Jews go that route, and that’s fine. I just felt a compelling need to make the challah I would bless at my Shabbat table.

My challah recipe is simple: quality bread flour, sugar, salt, oil, eggs, and yeast dissolved in warm water, which I feed with a little sugar. I fashion my challah from a vision of a golden, flaky crust and a moist crumb (the inside) that pulls apart in strands.

Oakand Shabbat Challah

My first try yielded two small, dense challahs. Probably a yeast issue. I didn’t lose hope. Instead, I imagined them as closer to what the Jews ended up with in their haste to leave Egypt. Then I did a little research and learned that braided, white-flour challah didn’t appear until the 1400s, and the fluffy, strand-like texture I was seeking came even later, after the Fleischmann brothers introduced their mass-produced yeast to the American market in the 1870s.

I solved my yeast problem with a food thermometer. I make sure the water is around 40°C (105°F) and add a generous tablespoon of sugar for my yeast to feast on. After a few tries, I could tell by touch when the water was the right temperature. After about ten minutes, I gently stir my yeast mixture into a bowl containing two eggs, sugar, salt, and oil. I measure my flour precisely in grams (540, depending on the flour), but I always adjust for the kitchen atmosphere, which changes weekly. With a fork, I gradually incorporate the flour into the bowl mixture,........

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