Walnut Raisin Bread

The name arrived on Wednesday. Jisoo called at 7 AM my time, 12 AM her time — midnight in Busan, the hour when important things are said because the world is quiet enough to hold them. She said, "Dahee. I have chosen." I sat down. James was in the shower. I was alone in the kitchen. The coffee was untouched. The morning was very still.

She said, "Hana." She said it slowly, giving the syllables weight. Ha-na. Two syllables. One word. She said, "Hana means 'one' in Korean. She is the first. The first grandchild I will know. The first child of the daughter I gave away and found again. She is the one." She paused. She said, "Also, in Korean, hana has another meaning. It can mean 'the only one.' Unique. Singular. She is the only one of her kind — Korean, Taiwanese, American, born from a reunion, born from a second chance. There is no other child like her. She is Hana."

I could not speak. I held the phone against my ear and listened to Jisoo breathe on the other side of the world. Then I said, "Hana. Her name is Hana." Jisoo said, "Her name is Hana." I said, "Umma. Thank you." She said, "I have been waiting thirty years to name a child. Thank you for letting me."

James came out of the shower. He saw my face. He said, "She chose?" I said, "Hana." He said it out loud: "Hana Park-Chen." He said, "It's perfect." He sat beside me. We said it together, quietly, the way you test a word to see if it fits: Hana. Hana. Hana Park-Chen. It fit. It fit the way a key fits a lock, the way a name fits a person, the way a grandmother's thirty-year silence fits into two syllables and becomes a sound, and the sound becomes a girl, and the girl becomes a life.

I called Karen that evening. I said, "We have a name." Karen said, "Tell me." I said, "Hana. Jisoo chose it. It means 'one' in Korean." Karen was quiet. Then she said, "Hana. That's beautiful, Stephanie. That is a beautiful name." She said, "Tell Jisoo — tell Jisoo it is a beautiful name and I am glad she chose it." The generosity in Karen's voice — the willingness to accept that another woman named her grandchild, a woman from a country Karen has never visited, a woman who is also her daughter's mother — was enormous. It was the most Karen thing Karen has ever done: to step back, to make room, to say "that is beautiful" when another version of Karen might have felt diminished. My mother is a generous woman. She has always been a generous woman. Even when the generosity cost her, even when the gaps in what she gave me were wide, the generosity was always there, underneath everything, holding everything up.

David said, "Hana Park-Chen. Good name. Strong name. Tell Jisoo I approve." David approves of everything now. He is eighty years old and he has decided that approval is easier than judgment and more productive. He is right.

The recipe this week is tteok — Korean rice cakes — which I made on Saturday to celebrate the naming. Not tteokbokki, not tteokguk, but plain steamed tteok, the simple version, rice flour pounded into smooth dough, steamed until glossy, served with honey and toasted soybean powder. The simplest Korean sweet. The first food many Korean babies taste. I made it and ate it and thought about Hana, who will taste this one day, who will put sticky rice cake in her mouth with small hands, who will have a Korean name and Korean food and a Korean grandmother who chose her name from across an ocean. Hana. The first. The only one.

I had planned to make tteok — plain steamed rice cakes, the way Jisoo described eating them as a child — but I couldn’t find the right rice flour at the store that Saturday, and I think the universe was telling me something: make bread, the food that rises, the food that takes time and patience and warmth to become itself. This walnut raisin bread felt right for a naming day. It is simple and golden and a little sweet, the kind of thing you slice and share with people you love, the kind of thing that fills a kitchen with a smell that says something good is happening here. I made a loaf for James and me, and I ate it thinking about Hana, who will one day eat bread with small hands, who will one day know her name means one and only.

Prep Time: 20 min (plus 1 hr 30 min rise) | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 2 hrs 25 min | Servings: 12 slices

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (one standard packet)
1 cup warm water (about 110°F)
2 tbsp granulated sugar, divided
1 tsp fine salt
2 tbsp neutral oil (vegetable or light olive oil)
1 cup raisins
3/4 cup walnut halves or pieces, roughly chopped
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

Activate the yeast. Combine warm water and 1 tsp of the sugar in a large bowl. Sprinkle yeast over the top and stir gently. Let stand 5–10 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your water may be too hot or the yeast is expired — start again.
Mix the dough. Add the oil and remaining sugar to the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add flour, salt, and cinnamon. Stir until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface.
Knead. Knead the dough for 8–10 minutes until smooth and elastic, adding flour a tablespoon at a time if the dough is sticking. The dough is ready when it springs back slowly when you press it with your finger.
Fold in the raisins and walnuts. Flatten the dough into a rough rectangle. Scatter raisins and walnuts over the surface, then fold the dough over itself and knead gently another 2–3 minutes to distribute evenly.
First rise. Shape the dough into a ball and place in a lightly oiled bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
Shape the loaf. Punch down the dough and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Shape into a tight oval loaf and place in a greased 9x5-inch loaf pan. Cover loosely and let rise a second time for 30 minutes, until the dough crests about 1 inch above the rim of the pan.
Preheat and bake. While the dough rises, preheat your oven to 375°F. Brush the top of the loaf gently with beaten egg. Bake 30–35 minutes, until deep golden brown and hollow-sounding when tapped on the bottom. An instant-read thermometer inserted in the center should read 190–200°F.
Cool before slicing. Transfer the loaf to a wire rack and let cool at least 20 minutes before slicing. It is very hard to wait. Wait anyway.

Nutrition (per serving)

Walnut Raisin Bread — The Bread I Baked the Day Hana Got Her Name