Breadmaking; the six day path

I'm not a world-class baker. But every Friday, like clockwork, I make a traditional kind of bread called ‘challah’ from scratch, in honor of the holy Sabbath, when G-d rested from creating the world.¹

The truth is, I don't really taste the difference between most things, so the finer points of seasoning and flavor often escape me. My husband, however, can taste even the slightest missing ingredient—especially if it's salt—so I try to pay attention in the kitchen.

Just to illustrate how off my taste buds can be: We were recently growing some mystery plants in our garden, and my husband and I disagreed about whether a particular plant was mint or tomato. I thought it was mint; he thought it looked more like a tomato plant.

To prove my point that it was definitely mint, I ate a leaf and announced that it tasted exactly like mint.² A few days later, my "mint plant" grew a tomato. Supposedly, tomato leaves are toxic, but nothing happened to me.³

I grew up in NY, where it's easy to buy cheap challah, but now I live out of town, where it's actually a significant savings to make my own. Besides, it sounds really good to tell people I'm making fresh bread, and I like the idea of people picturing me as Isha Yiras Hashem, whipping around the kitchen in a floury apron. I wish I were more like that—really. So, please, picture me that way.

My kids like to eat it, and any leftovers go to the chickens.⁴ The reason for the number six is mystical: without eggs, my recipe has exactly six ingredients, and I make it on Friday, the sixth day of the week.

- Water

- Yeast

- Salt

- Sugar

- Oil

- Flour

So, on the sixth day of the week, at around 6 am, my Bosch mixer and I—just a sample of a human who was made on the 6th day of creation—get to work on these six ingredients.

Here's how it goes:

I begin by pouring 5 cups of water into the Bosch, followed by 3 tablespoons of salt, 2 cups of sugar, and 5 tablespoons of dried yeast. Then, I add a cup of oil and finally turn on the mixer and slowly add 5 pounds of flour.

You could use high-gluten or bread flour if you want your challah to turn out better, but I usually stick with regular flour—specifically, the kind from Aldi, which is about $2.50 for a 5-pound bag. Mostly because that's what I keep in the house.

Once everything's mixed, I leave the house and come back a couple of hours later to finish up.

Hafrashat challah

That's when I honor the Biblical commandment of "hafrashat challah." This involves reciting a blessing before setting aside a small portion of the dough. When the Temple stood, this dough wasn't such a small piece. It was given as a present to the priests whose job it was to work in the Temple, and who consequently didn't own land where they could grow their own wheat.

Since we don't have any pure Jewish priests around today, we take just a little bit, wrap it, and burn it—or, if one prefers, wrap it twice and throw it away. This is to remember that we get all our bread (food) from G-d and that we must support those who devote themselves to G-d's work. When the Temple is rebuilt, we will give it again to those who work there.

The blessing is:

"Blessed Are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to separate challah."

Most people braid their challah, but if I did, I'd never get around to making it. I realized long ago that I can only manage lumps of dough. I call them lumps. Really, they are balls—or oval balls.

If I'm feeling particularly impressive as a Jewish mother, I'll paint them with eggs and sprinkle on sesame seeds.

The Merit of 40 Women Goes Meta

There's a custom for 40 Jewish women to get together and make challah in the merit of something. Since childhood, I've always had issues with the idea of merit being fungible, so until recently, I refused to participate in such groups, except when someone did a very effective job of guilting me into it.⁵

But recently, I had an idea. People are always trying to find 40 women. Why don't we go meta? So today, I said that this challah is in the merit of all the people who need 40 women to complete their set of 40.

If you're interested, please refer to the footnote for a detailed explanation of the game theory principles underlying this idea.⁶

I should take this meta approach further—find 39 women who agree to this structure of spiritual merit and get them to commit to it weekly. Then, no one else will have to scramble to find women to take on the responsibility.

I'll have to ask Rebbetzin Fastag if she thinks that will work. Meanwhile, comment if you're interested in joining.

1. Genesis 2:1-3:

And the heavens and the earth and all their hosts were completed. (The hosts are the stars, like the universe).

And G-d finished on the seventh day His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done.

And G-d blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because on it He rested from all His work which G-d had created to make.

2. At least this proves I'm not cooking poorly on purpose.

3. Thank G-d.

4. Technically, what I make is called water challah because I don't use eggs.

5. "Merit being fungible" means that spiritual or moral merit can be transferred or shared between people, almost like money can be exchanged. In simple terms, it's the idea that one person's good deeds or spiritual efforts can benefit another person, as if they were passing on a reward or credit. For example, if a group of people prays or does a good deed together, the merit from that action could be shared among all of them, or even directed to help someone in need.

6. Imagine that each time someone wants to make challah for a spiritual merit, they need to gather 40 women to participate. This creates a coordination problem: each person (or player) is trying to reach the same goal (having 40 women make challah), but they can't achieve it alone. They need others to join in.

In game theory, this is similar to a coordination game where all players benefit from working together, but the challenge lies in coordinating their actions. The goal is for all 40 women to align their efforts, but if everyone is acting independently, it's difficult to reach that number.

To solve this coordination problem, Isha Yiras Hashem introduces the idea of "going meta." Instead of each person trying to individually find 40 women, she proposes a pre-coordination strategy: forming a committed group of 40 women who agree to participate whenever one of them needs to make challah for a merit. This way, everyone knows they can rely on the group, and the coordination problem is solved in advance.

In game theory terms, this shifts the game from a series of independent coordination games (where each player must find 39 others) to a repeated game with a pre-established strategy. By agreeing on the strategy ahead of time, the players (the 40 women) can ensure they always reach the desired outcome (40 women making challah), without the stress of last-minute coordination.

This approach reduces the individual burden and increases the efficiency of the coordination, making it a win-win for everyone involved.

Thanks to S.S. for suggesting the connection to game theory.