I know I should turn the radio off, and give my eyes and mind a break from the newspaper. The whole world is ablaze, from our planet to the literal fires raging in Ukraine under attack. It’s all-consuming. That I get to write these words while sitting in my warm home, a belly full from leftovers in the fridge is a privilege I do not take for granted.
Like everyone else I’ve talked and messaged with, work focus happens in fleeting moments between feeling helpless and worrying. This weekend I decided to throw myself into some baking–actually a lot of baking. While listening to BBC and WNYC, I kneaded doughs, piped cookie batter onto baking sheets and made some hamantaschen.
One of the things I made was this recipe from Olia Hercules, a British chef and author from Ukraine. I feel foolish for not knowing of her before this situation occurred since all the food people I admire seemed to already know of her work. The funny thing about the food media world is it’s simultaneously a tiny network and vast field, so maybe it’s not that odd that I’d never come across Olia’s work before now. When the assault on Ukraine began, an acquaintance, Emiko, shared a post of Olia’s on Instagram.
Rather than me trying to capture Olia’s story in a few short sentences, I invite you to learn more about her by reading her site or her recent Instagram posts. My heart aches from afar for someone I’ve never met, imagining the nightmare she’s living while most of her family is still in Ukraine. I’m eager to dive into Olia’s books but since none are available immediately at my local bookstore, I decided to comb through her site to find a recipe to get to know her more.
I made it no further than the second most recent recipe on the home page, completely mesmerized by a deeply bronzed bread hugging a thick swirl of poppy seed filling. When I read the title—Ukrainian Easter Bread, it felt like the recipe chose me instead of the other way around, with the Lenten season beginning. My love of poppy seeds runs deep, and this bread reminded me of the kind of danishes I’d buy at bakeries growing up in Brooklyn and the surrounding boroughs.
Just from making this one recipe, I can see why people love Olia’s writing. She crafts a recipe in a way that pops off the page, and feels like a friend is whispering it in your eye with each step. I made this bread twice, thought not intending to do so. When I opened the bag of poppy seeds for the first loaf something smelled off, and I should’ve trusted my gut because they were indeed rancid.
My first bread was rendered inedible but the flavor and texture of the bread I did taste after carefully avoiding the filling was amazing, compelling me to make it again the very next morning with a fresh bag of poppy seeds. Having made the bread twice, I have some valuable tips to share. Nothing was a major deviation–this is first and foremost Olia’s recipe, not mine.
I did decide to scale it down by half on my second bake because the recipe as written yields a behemoth loaf of bread, far too much for me to finish in a timely manner. You can find her original recipe here. A few things I did differently, include leaving out the apples. I wasn’t fond of them the first time but I suspect it’s because the apples aren’t cooked before adding to the filling. My first suggestion is to always try a recipe as-is before making any changes but in this case may I suggest sauteeing them in a knob of butter and touch of sugar to caramelize them a bit befor adding to the filling should you decide to add apples to your bread?
The next tip, and one that for me is life-changing, is that I added an extra step to the recipe to freeze the filling before adding it to the dough. While it adds an extra step, it doesn’t add any time since the filling chills while the dough is proving. You can read more about why I did this in the notes at the end of the recipe, so I won’t bother repeating it here.
Lastly, Olia instructs you to cook the poppy seeds and milk without first grinding the poppy seeds. I was surprised when I read this based on previous experience making a creamy poppy seed filling for Luisa’s Mohnzopf but decided to proceed with the recipe as written. I wasn’t thrilled with the texture and the poppy seeds never really absorbed the milk because they’re tiny, hard and essentially impermeable unless ground. A bonafide poppy seed grinder has been on my wishlist for years but until I get one, I opt for an upper body workout and grind them by hand in a marble mortar and pestle. I strongly urge you to dig deep with patience to take this step of grinding them. It will take about 15 minutes to do so but truly makes a huge difference in how the filling comes together in the end.
The dough itself is one of the most lovely doughs I’ve ever worked with. So soft and tender, I can see it being versatile and agreeable to cinnamon roll filling or just a layer of your favorite jam. While I’ve rewritten Olia’s recipe for the sake of scaling it down and to not infringe on her copyright, I did try to preserve the intimate nature in which she wrote, as if this is a recipe handed down from a friend to a friend. This is actually my favorite way of recipe writing, free from the constraints of copy editors and character counts.
I hope you’ve all managed to find some peaceful moments amidst the uncertainty. Be well, and remember to be kind. –xo, j.
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Charities helping provide relief within Ukraine and to refugees, should you wish to make a donation.
Just Giving (official fundraising site for #CookforUkraine)