Beyond french toast.
By Leah Koenig

Last
spring, I received quite the shock upon opening my freezer for its annual
pre-Passover cleaning. Inside, bag upon bag of forgotten scraps and ends of
challahs-past sat shivering and waiting for redemption. I hadn't meant to let my
leftover challah situation grow so ugly, but there it was, staring me in the
face. With only a few days before I needed to be hametz-free, I decided to feed
some of the challah to my compost worms, and dump the rest of it (guiltily) into
the garbage. But I promised myself that next Passover I would
Of course, there is
little I can do about the weekly surplus of challah that builds up after
Shabbat. The real conundrum is what to do with all those odds and ends that
accumulate into a freezer full of old challah. Conventional Jewish wisdom seems
to suggest one acceptable option: French toast.
According to Arthur
Schwartz's Jewish Home Cooking: Yiddish Recipes Revisited, challah French toast
first showed up on menus in the 1940s, but was made famous in the 1950s and 60s
by two Brooklyn restaurants, Wolfie's and Cookie's. "At Cookie's and Wolfie's,"
he writes, "they served big, crisp-edged wedges of deep-fried, egg-saturated
challah with a paper soufflé cup of cherry preserves."
These days, challah
French toast is so ubiquitous that recipes for it regularly turn up in
mainstream Jewish cookbooks, and even some non-Jewish ones. Decades from now,
culinary anthropologists may point to challah French toast as an example of
American Jews' distinct and fascinating contribution to traditional Jewish
cuisine.