Cinnamon Raisin Swirl Babka

Christmas Eve. We went to the 4 PM Mass at St. John's because I could not do St. Brigid's yet. The Mass was short. Liam held my hand. Nora sat on Grace's lap. Grace had driven down. Grace was staying through the 27th.

Christmas morning. Pancakes. I made them from the stove (no stool for me, I stand). I made them the way Sean did. The blueberry buttermilks. I burned the first one on purpose. I ate it. I plated two for Liam, two for Nora, and one for myself. We ate at the kitchen table. The radio was on to WBUR Christmas morning programming. The tree was lit. The house smelled like pancakes and coffee.

We went to the three-decker at 12:30. The family was there. The full complement. Danny and Rachel had driven in. Meghan and Brian and Aidan. Patrick and Colleen with Sean III, now nineteen months and eating with the organized focus of a toddler. Grace. My parents.

I sat in Sean's usual chair this year. Not by my choice — that is where there was an open seat. I sat in it. I ate my meal. I ate my mother's prime rib. I drank a glass of wine. I held a conversation with Danny about nothing. I held a conversation with Grace about the kids. I laughed twice. I cried once, briefly, in the kitchen, when my mother and I were alone for a moment. I composed myself. I went back to the table.

At 7 PM I took the kids home. They were asleep before the Neponset Bridge. Grace was with me in the car. She held my hand over the console as I drove. She said "Kate. We did it." I said "we did it, Grace." She said "it will be easier next year." I said "I hope so." She said "it will. Trust me. First ones are the hardest. Each one after is a little less." I said "okay, Grace." I believed her. She has done three of her own — for her husband, who died in 2011.

We made it through. That’s the only way I know how to say it. And a few days later, when the house was quiet again and Grace had driven back and the kids were back in school, I found myself wanting something warm to bake — not the pancakes, not yet, those are Sean’s — but something that filled the kitchen with the same kind of smell, the kind that says someone is here and they made something for you. This Cinnamon Raisin Swirl Babka became that thing. It takes time, which is what you want on a slow January morning, and it comes out of the oven looking like something that was worth the effort.

Prep Time: 30 min (plus 2 hrs rising) | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 3 hrs 5 min | Servings: 10

Ingredients

3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (one standard packet)
1/3 cup whole milk, warmed to about 110°F
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp kosher salt
3 large eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened and cut into pieces
1 cup raisins
2 tbsp warm water (to plump raisins)
For the cinnamon filling:
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
3 tbsp unsalted butter, softened
For the simple syrup glaze:
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water

Instructions

Plump the raisins. Combine raisins and warm water in a small bowl. Let soak for 15 minutes, then drain and pat dry. Set aside.
Activate the yeast. In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine warm milk and yeast. Let stand 5 minutes until foamy. Add sugar, salt, and eggs and mix briefly to combine.
Build the dough. Add the flour and mix on low with the dough hook until a shaggy dough forms, about 2 minutes. Increase speed to medium and add the softened butter a few pieces at a time, mixing until fully incorporated after each addition. Continue kneading on medium until the dough is smooth, elastic, and pulls away from the sides of the bowl, about 8–10 minutes.
First rise. Shape dough into a ball and transfer to a lightly oiled bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise in a warm spot until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.
Make the filling. While dough rises, stir together brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and softened butter until a paste forms. Set aside.
Shape the babka. Punch down the risen dough and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll into a roughly 12 x 16-inch rectangle. Spread the cinnamon filling evenly over the surface, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Scatter the plump raisins over the filling. Starting from a long edge, roll the dough tightly into a log. Using a sharp knife, cut the log in half lengthwise. With the cut sides facing up, twist the two halves around each other to form a braid, keeping the cut sides visible throughout.
Pan and second rise. Grease a 9 x 5-inch loaf pan. Transfer the twisted loaf into the pan, tucking the ends under. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rise until puffed and just cresting above the rim of the pan, about 45 minutes. Preheat oven to 350°F during the last 15 minutes of rising.
Bake. Bake 30–35 minutes until deep golden brown on top and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center reads 190°F. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil after 20 minutes.
Make the glaze. While the babka bakes, bring sugar and water to a simmer in a small saucepan, stirring until sugar dissolves, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat.
Glaze and cool. As soon as the babka comes out of the oven, brush the hot simple syrup generously over the top. Let cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Slice and serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cinnamon Raisin Swirl Babka — The Morning We Made It Through