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Polish Babka -- A Sweet Easter Tradition for the Table We Gather Around

Easter Sunday fell at the end of this week, March thirty-first, and I spent it quietly with Ted and Patricia and the boys and David. Patricia made the Easter dinner — a leg of lamb with rosemary and garlic, roasted spring vegetables, a green salad with radishes from her cold frame. I brought the shortbread from the Christmas tin that I had kept frozen and a bottle of the maple syrup. We ate at their table, which still has the organized chaos of a household with children in it — crayon drawings on the refrigerator, a soccer ball in the corner, a half-finished jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table — and it was an uncomplicated, warm afternoon of the kind that requires no particular occasion to justify it.

The mud season arrived on schedule in the second half of the week, the ground thawing from the surface down while the deep frost below still holds the water, creating the familiar Vermont condition where the driveway becomes navigable only by instinct and experience and the boots by the back door are a permanent fixture. I do not dislike mud season the way newcomers do. It is the price of spring and spring is worth it, and also mud season has its own beauty — the earth soft and dark and alive-smelling in a way it has not been since fall, the crows loud in the bare trees, the peepers starting in the low wet corners of the fields at night.

The peepers were going Thursday night — first peepers of the year, which is a Vermont event on the order of the first red maple or the first maple sap run. I stood on the porch for a few minutes listening and then called Carol and held the phone up toward the field. She said she had heard hers two days before. We are on the same schedule, roughly, separated by forty miles and a few hundred feet of altitude. The frog was announcing spring and we were listening together on the phone, which seemed right.

I started the seeds under lights in the basement on Saturday — tomatoes first, eight weeks before last frost in late May, and peppers, which need even longer. The Cherokee Purple and the Aunt Ruby's German Green are both going in alongside the Brandywines, four cells each. There is something in the act of planting a seed that is entirely optimistic, a small irrefutable investment in the idea that spring will come and summer will come and the garden will produce. I do not argue with that optimism. I let it operate.

Patricia had the dinner well in hand — the lamb, the vegetables, the salad — and I brought what I had, the shortbread and the syrup. But thinking back on that afternoon at their table, with the crayon drawings and the jigsaw puzzle and the boys running in and out, I kept returning to the idea of a proper Easter bake, something rooted and traditional that earns its place on a holiday table. Polish Babka is exactly that: a rich, eggy yeast cake with a long history behind it and no need to justify itself, the kind of thing you bring not because the occasion demands it but because some food carries the weight of the season in a way that feels right.

Polish Babka

Prep Time: 30 minutes + 2 hours rising | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 3 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup warm whole milk (about 110°F)
  • 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (one standard packet)
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar, divided
  • 4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
  • 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon orange zest
  • 6 large egg yolks, room temperature
  • 3/4 cup unsalted butter, softened and cut into pieces
  • 1/2 cup golden raisins (optional)
  • Powdered sugar or simple glaze, for finishing

Instructions

  1. Proof the yeast. Combine the warm milk, yeast, and 1 teaspoon of the sugar in a small bowl. Stir gently and let sit 5—10 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, your yeast may be inactive; start again with fresh yeast.
  2. Mix the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, remaining sugar, salt, and nutmeg. Add the yeast mixture, egg yolks, vanilla, and orange zest. Stir until a shaggy dough forms.
  3. Incorporate the butter. Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 5 minutes. Begin adding the softened butter a few pieces at a time, kneading each addition in fully before adding the next. Continue kneading for 10—12 minutes until the dough is smooth, supple, and slightly tacky. Fold in the raisins if using.
  4. First rise. Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, cover with a clean towel or plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 1/2 hours, or until doubled in size.
  5. Shape and second rise. Grease a 10-inch Bundt or tube pan well. Punch down the dough, shape it into a rough ring, and fit it into the prepared pan. Cover and let rise again for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until the dough crests above the rim of the pan.
  6. Bake. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake the Babka for 40—45 minutes until deep golden brown and a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the last 10 minutes.
  7. Cool and finish. Let the Babka cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Once cool, dust generously with powdered sugar or drizzle with a simple glaze of 1 cup powdered sugar whisked with 2 tablespoons milk.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 115mg

Walter Bergstrom
About the cook who shared this
Walter Bergstrom
Week 418 of Walter’s 30-year story · Burlington, Vermont
Walt is a seventy-three-year-old retired high school history teacher from Burlington, Vermont — a Vietnam veteran, a widower, and a grandfather of five who cooks New England comfort food in the same kitchen where his wife Margaret made bread every Saturday for forty years. He lost Margaret to a stroke in 2021, and now he bakes her bread himself, not because he's good at it but because the smell fills the house and for an hour she's still there.

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