G. Harvest was a man who experienced more in one month than most
men experience in one decade. His adventures inspire the breads that
we make. Here’s the story behind our Challah.
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A boat shrinks when you’re on it for an extended period of time. However, it is much cheaper than flying when you give the captain an envelope full of cash to stow you away on his vessel. I left Tianjin, China on board a Chinese flagged ship and became smuggled cargo bound for Haifa, Israel. From there, I wasn’t sure where I would go nor what I would do. I still had a decent amount of Traveler’s Checks left before I would have to return to America.My friends who work offshore describe the same sort of cabin fever that I started to experience on that boat- where the highlight of a day is the meal. I don’t know for certain that I had it worse than a roughneck but I had no job to do on the boat, so I spent a lot of time walking the perimeter of the ship or staring out at the sea. By the time we landed in Israel and I went through customs (that is another story altogether: you have no idea how difficult it is to explain to an Immigration & Customs Agent that you’re a smuggled tourist) I was ready to spend every dime I had on anything that would restore my dulled senses.
I was so full of energy that I didn’t sleep the first night I was in Haifa. I walked and walked and walked, glad to be on land and not hemmed in by the ocean. I was propositioned lots of times by drug dealers and women. Thankfully, I could tell them I don’t speak English en Français so they all left me alone. As morning’s hews began to color the sky, I started smelling the familiar smell of baking bread. I followed my nose to a glass storefront filled with so many familiar types of bread, rolls, and sweets. My hunger settled on a type of bread that I didn’t recognize. It was a braided rope, washed in egg so that it had a glorious brown shine to its surface. It called to me in the culinary language that a foodie understands. If this sounds strange to your ears, I feel so sorry for you.
I waited outside the bakery until they opened until they opened and bought one of those gorgeous loaves. It was called Challah and as soon as I tasted it I knew I was going to have to make it when I worked in a bakery again. It had a mild sweetness to it and the mouthfeel was pillowy on my tongue until the bite melted away into a satisfied swallow. I couldn’t wait to have one back in America and sop up gumbo juices with it or make a grilled cheese on it. I ate the entire loaf on the curb outside of the store, watching the workers braid more.
I just had to learn the recipe.
I walked back in and asked for the owner. He spoke a little English and let me know three things: (1) he wouldn’t give me the recipe, (2) he wouldn’t sell me the recipe for any price, and (3) I needed to “get hell out store”. Before I left I noticed that one man in the kitchen made eye contact with me for an extended period of time and nodded towards the back door. I made my way there and five minutes later had a price for the recipe. I wish I could say that I told him no. I can’t. I cashed one of my Traveler’s Checks and bought the family’s Challah recipe for 200 shekels. I learned a life lesson that day: There is almost always a way to get what you want and money helps create easier ways.
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Our Challah is available on Tuesdays and Fridays throughout Lent.