Why cook? (Chocolate Babka)
The privilege to cook
I've read a few articles recently about home cooking. The first is a review of a new book called Pressure Cooker, about what home cooking can't solve (poverty, mostly.) It sounds like a great book. This review raises some really valid reasons why families don't cook, and resent the culture of cooking, and those reasons are far beyond me, those reasons are systemic, and have much more to do with the drudgery of poverty, and the pervasive presence of food desserts.
I also read this essay asking why we cook, and, well, it annoyed me. There's nothing wrong with it, and indeed, it's probably right, and accurately describes the feeling many people (and in particular, I think, many women who cohabitate with men) have about cooking, but it focuses on how we cook to impress others, and it doesn't consider one critical element of why we cook: it can make us happy.
The internet has been abuzz recently with the "does it spark joy" discourse again. I thought we were done with that in 2016, but there's a new Mari Kondo show and everybody is arguing about whether or not they should throw their books away and divorce their husbands. Whatever. All I mean to say is, if cooking does not make you happy, by all means, avoid it. If you only enjoy making muffins but find all other cooking a nightmare, just make muffins! It doesn't matter! But I encourage people to look at cookery, and at eating, and to see if there is any aspect of it that brings them joy, and if so, if they can embrace that part of cooking. I think that looking at cooking as a drudgery to be borne in order to impress cannot improve our relationships with food, or for that matter, the people we cook with, or for.
I am lucky to be able to cook the way that I do, but it also came from necessity. I am in a sort of middle spot where I can afford to buy lots of ingredients, but also cannot afford to eat out a lot. Thus, I cook. And because I am cooking most days a week, I am more confident, and better at it. So I cook more. But I am able to cook this way because I am middle class, and childless, and also I'm not a straight woman who has to try to hide vegtables in her boyfriends food as though he's a toddler. That's neither here nor there, I suppose.
The essay, Why Cook? that inspired me to write this week would say that the reason why we enjoy cooking is that we get to make other people impressed with us, but perhaps it is not just that. I enjoy the things I get from cooking beyond food (which is not always incredible) and having impressed someone with my skill.
I began my cooking life seeking to impress. I was socially anxious and awkward, and unsure how to make friends, and bringing cupcakes to people was always a bribe that said "please like me!" as much as it was anything else. But the more I cooked to impress others the more I learned. I tried different things in high school (theatre, fashion design, journalism, public speaking, latin) but I wasn't especially good at most of them. Cooking was a time when I could follow steps, and improve my technique, and get measurably better. It provided near-instant gratification, even if nobody else ate it.
Cooking connects you with a history, and with the wider world, sure, but it also connects you to the people you cook with. Cooking with Noah is one of my favorite things in the world, of course, but I also had intense relationships with the people I cooked with in the back of a wretched Brooklyn restaurant. I'll probably never see them again, but while we were in the kitchen, we learned to become a team. I learned their patterns and habits more than some roommates I have had.
Cooking well with other people is all about deciding when you need to take charge, and when it is fine to let go. When I am cooking, often I assume control, and I realized a while ago that perhaps, it did not always need to be this way, and in fact, cooking is more enjoyable if you share being in charge, so that you don't always have to think about every big bit, and instead you can just cut an onion, and swear profusely about how much you hate cutting an onion. Sometimes it is nice to measure things out if they are asked for, just as, sometimes, I want to be commanding the kitchen as though I were the general of the world's kindest army.
Of course, why we cook is such a bigger thing. Sometimes, it is nice to cook alone. I cook for all reasons: I cook because I am happy, or miserable, or bored. I cook when I am stressed and when I am completely at peace. One thing ties all of this together: I love eating, and I am particular, and it is a great source of joy to make something I like, and then, to make it again. To improve it. I cook, above all else, for the joy of eating.
I dunno, why do you cook?
That white stuff on our window? that's inside frost.
This week it was so goddamn cold. It was so unbelievably cold, (with the windchill it was like, -12 for quite a while on Monday) so I baked a babka. I find a babka to be a rather leisurely two day affair. The first time I made it, I was frantic, the second time I was much less anxious. I will caveat though, this is one of the less accessible recipes I have shared, because I really don't know if you could do it without a stand mixer. Also, this is not at all my own recipe! I am just copying in the Smitten Kitchen recipe for babka and maybe editing it a bit for clarity. However, if you have a stand mixer, I highly recommend making a babka. It is delicious, and unless there is a great bakery near you that makes babka, it will be way better than what you can get from the store, because store babka is always stale.
Better Chocolate Babka (from Smitten Kitchen)
Adapted from the Chocolate Krantz Cakes in Jerusalem: A Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi
Yield: 2 loaf-sized chocolate babkas
Dough
4 1/4 cups (530 grams) all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
1/2 cup (100 grams) granulated sugar
2 teaspoons instant yeast
Grated zest of half an orange
3 large eggs
1/2 cup water (cold is fine) and up to 1 to 2 tablespoons extra, if needed
3/4 teaspoon fine sea or table salt
2/3 cup unsalted butter (150 grams or 5.3 ounces) at room temperature
Sunflower or other neutral oil, for greasing
Filling
4 1/2 ounces (130 grams) dark chocolate (or approximately 3/4 cup chocolate chips)
1/2 cup (120 grams) unsalted butter, cold is fine
Scant 1/2 cup (50 grams) powdered sugar
1/3 cup (30 grams) cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon [optional]
Syrup
1/3 cup water
6 tablespoons (75 grams) granulated sugar
Make the dough: Combine the flour, sugar, yeast and zest in the bottom of the bowl of a stand mixer. Add eggs and 1/2 cup water, mixing with the dough hook until it comes together; this may take a couple minutes. It’s okay if it’s on the dry side, but if it doesn’t come together at all, add extra water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until the dough forms a mass. With the mixer on low, add the salt, then the butter, a spoonful at a time, mixing until it’s incorporated into the dough. Then, mix on medium speed for 10 minutes until dough is completely smooth; you’ll need to scrape the bowl down a few times. I usually found that after 10 minutes, the dough began to pull away from the sides of the bowl. If it doesn’t, you can add 1 tablespoon extra flour to help this along.
Coat a large bowl with oil (or scrape the dough out onto a counter and oil this one) and place dough inside, cover with plastic and refrigerate. Leave in fridge for at least half a day, preferably overnight. [Dough will not fully double, so don’t fret if it doesn’t look like it grew by more than half.]
Make filling: Melt butter and chocolate together until smooth. Stir in powdered sugar and cocoa; mixture should form a spreadable paste. Add cinnamon, if desired.
Assemble loaves: Coat two 9-by-4-inch (2 1/4 or 1kg) loaf pans with oil or butter, and line the bottom of each with a rectangle of parchment paper. Take half of dough from fridge (leave the other half chilled). Roll out on a well-floured counter to about a 10-inch width (the side closest to you) and as long in length (away from you) as you can when rolling it thin, likely 10 to 12 inches.
Spread half of chocolate mixture evenly over the dough, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Brush the end farthest away from you with water. Roll the dough up with the filling into a long, tight cigar. Seal the dampened end onto the log. I found that transferring the log to a lightly floured baking tray in the freezer for 8-10 minutes made it much, much easier to cut cleanly in half. Repeat with second dough.
Trim last 1/2-inch off each end of log. Gently cut the log in half lenghtwise and lay them next to each other on the counter, cut sides up. Pinch the top ends gently together. Lift one side over the next, forming a twist and trying to keep the cut sides facing out (because they’re pretty). Don’t worry if this step makes a mess, just transfer the twist as best as you can into the prepared loaf pan. In one batch, mine was long enough to “S” inside the pan and I nested the trimmed ends of the log in the openings. Even if you don’t (and choose to bake them separately in a little pan, as I did in other batches), the dough will fill in any gaps by the time it’s done rising and baking, so don’t worry.
Cover with a damp tea towel and leave to rise another 1 to 1 1/2 hours at room temperature. Repeat process with second loaf.
Bake and finish cakes: Heat oven to 375°F (190°C). Remove towels, place each loaf on the middle rack of your oven. Bake for 30 minutes, but there’s no harm in checking for doneness at 25 minutes. A skewer inserted into an underbaked babka will feel stretchy/rubbery inside and may come back with dough on it. When fully baked, you’ll feel almost no resistance. If you babka needs more time, put it back, 5 minutes at a time then re-test. If it browns too quickly, you can cover it with foil.
While babkas are baking, make syrup: Bring sugar and water to a simmer until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and set aside to cool somewhat. As soon as the babkas leave the oven, brush the syrup all over each. It will seem like too much, but will taste just right — glossy and moist. Let cool about halfway in pan, then transfer to a cooling rack to cool the rest of the way before eating
Do ahead: Babkas keep for a few days at room temperature. Longer, I’d freeze them. They freeze and defrost really well.
Okay I fully acknowledge that I just stole her recipe, but it's a good one, and pretty easy if you have the right tools. An offset spatula is incredibly helpful for this. I resisted buying one for... years. Literally years, but I caved this winter and oh boy what a game changer.