My alarm goes off at 6:30 AM, but I’m already mostly awake. I’m letting my eyes adjust to the room and considering just how much effort it will take to peel back the comforter, get up, and open the heavy floor-length curtains that block the light from the French doors on one side of the bedroom.
I like to pull them open and stay in bed for a bit, watching the sky brighten slowly over the treetops, touching each of the brownstones on the street one by one.
But today the sunrise won’t begin in earnest for another half hour, so I climb out of bed and get dressed. I haphazardly toss things in my bag: a hairbrush, my swim cap, a dog-eared novel to read at breakfast, and a warm hat. I walk outside, puffy jacket wrapped tightly around me, and get on the 1 train heading south. Two stops later, I ascend the staircase and shuffle past the dozens of people headed to work, dressed smartly in suits or pencil skirts or ballet flats and dark jeans and nice overcoats. They clutch cups of coffee, check their phones, all looking intent on getting somewhere.
I tug on the heavy glass door at the gym, then lean my entire weight against it to pull it open. (Seriously, is this some sort of trick of gyms? To force a tiny arm workout every time you try to walk inside?)
I check in. Walk past the rows of ellipticals and stair masters and watch personal trainers supervising hefty free weights and squats in front of long mirrors. I take a deep breath and prepare to speed through the worst part of this entire ordeal: I strip down and pull on my (rather hideous) one-piece swimsuit, walk quickly to the pool deck, and without letting myself think too long about it all, jump into the water.
“It’ll get warmer, it’ll get nicer, just start swimming!” I whisper inside my head. I start, and one lap in, I fall into an easy rhythm and I remember that I do like swimming.
I do not, however, like crowded pools. I do not like when aggressive swimmers (or, anyone faster than me, meaning everyone except the little old ladies in the slow lane doing aqua jazzercise moves on a kick board) tap my toe to remind me to let them pass. I do not like feeling anxious when I’m underwater.
I used to think I’d get better at these feelings the more I swam. I realize now that I will not stop feeling that way, but instead I’ll get better at making myself just get in the g-d pool anyway.
I finish my laps (whew! a whopping 13!) and haul myself up the ladder. Now comes the best part: a hot shower, the delicious sensation of being scrubbed clean and bright-eyed and refreshed.
Two blocks away is a cheerful, sunlit restaurant called Jams in the corner of the 1 Hotel Central Park. It’s run by Jonathan Waxman and it’s the sort of place that’s rather ideal for any kind of situation. Meeting my dad for a quick drink before he catches a train home? Perfect. Dinner with friends when one guy wants meat and potatoes and someone else wants a grilled shrimp salad? Just the ticket. A quiet solo breakfast at a window table, surrounded by low-level chatter? Yes, yes.
The menu is simple but the food is excellent. It’s a little pricey, given that it is a hotel restaurant in midtown Manhattan, but not terribly so. It’s always busy but never packed. The outside of the building is covered in dark green ivy and inside is all smooth blond wood and glass windows and a comforting, eco-chic vibe.
Editor’s note: Sorry for using the phrase eco-chic. I’d cringe too! But really, it’s the right descriptor.
My server brings my order in minutes: a hot water with lemon and a beautiful butter-yellow omelet. I cut into the omelet and sharp cheddar cheese oozes onto my fork. I take a bite, opening my book (always travel with a novel!) and read. Half-listening to the tables next to me, I immerse myself in the pages about a bookseller in Scotland and her quirky cast of neighborhood characters.
I eat a few pieces of mango and some berries while I wait for the check, then step out into the breezy cold morning to walk home before my first meeting of the day.
Do I take myself out for nice (somewhat overpriced) breakfasts every morning? No, I do not. Most mornings I make scrambled eggs and toast at home. Soon it’ll be savory oatmeal season. But in full disclosure, I was scheduled to meet a friend this morning at this very restaurant to catch up over breakfast. She emailed last night full of apologies saying she needed to reschedule. I’d been looking forward to such a nice Friday morning, and had been thinking about how lovely a cheese omelet would taste after the dreaded swim, and so I thought: why not take yourself there anyway? So I did!
The day continues to unfold. I sit and write for most of the morning, music playing softly in my kitchen. I answer emails. I write up the (long overdue) recipe for a babka filled with Nutella and crumbled halva. I really, really am in deep like with this bread. Perhaps I am even in love? And I’m particularly glad to share it with you on Friday, firstly because it’s an excellent project for your weekend and secondly, because a Nutella babka or a halva babka on its own would be spectacular but this is next-level. It’s not overwhelming though, lest you think it’s one of those over-the-top recipes that’s more about the novelty and less about the taste.
Both halva and Nutella have a sweet and nutty taste, but they’re different from each other, and they partner well instead of one overpowering the other. A word of warning: It’s not the tidiest bread to shape or to eat! In retrospect, I might blitz the halva in a food processor briefly with the Nutella next time, to get a smoother filling. As it is, the halva stays in bits and chunks and crumbles, which I rather liked, but if you prefer a smoother look, try the food processor approach.
After writing it up, I read this poem a few times, and think about how much the surprise of flowers, unprompted by any occasion or reason, might be one of the nicest ones:
On Floriography [Karen An-Hwei Lee]
If you often find yourself at a loss for words
or don’t know what to say to those you love,
just extract poetry out of poverty, this dystopia
of civilization rendered fragrant,
blossoming onto star-blue fields of
loosestrife,
heady spools of spike lavender, of edible clover
beckoning to say without bruising
a jot of dog’s tooth violet, a nib of larkspur notes,
or the day’s perfumed reports of
indigo
in the gloaming—
what to say to those
whom you love in this world?
Use floriography, or as the flower-sellers put it,
Say it with flowers.
—Indigo, larkspur, star-blue, my dear.
And now, onto the bread, and a word on ingredients. Nutella is obvious, and of course you can find similar chocolate hazelnut spreads in most stores these days. Halva might be a bit trickier to find and of course you could leave it out altogether, but if you are in New York City ever you must go to Chelsea Market and pick up some freshly made halva from Seed + Mill. They now sell in Whole Foods (nationally I think?) and their halva comes in all sorts of rotating flavors like black sesame and cardamom and cacao nib.
Nutella Halva Babka
Makes two loaves
For the dough
1/2 cup (113ml) whole milk
1 envelope (2 1/4 teaspoons) instant or active dry yeast
3 eggs + 1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
10 tablespoons (141g) cup unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
4 1/4 cups (510g) all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
For the filling
1 cup Nutella
1 cup halva, crumbled finely
pinch of sea salt
Lightly grease or line with parchment two 9” x 5” loaf pans or 9” x 4” pans (I love using straight-sided Pullman pans for my loaves as they’ll rise a bit higher and have a more precise shape, but in these photos I used a 9” x 5”).
Warm the milk slightly to lukewarm in a small saucepan or in the microwave. If using active dry yeast, stir in the yeast and let sit for about 5 minutes until foamy. If using instant yeast, you can skip the stirring step.
Transfer the milk and yeast to a large bowl or a stand mixer and whisk in the eggs and egg yolk and vanilla. Add the sugar, salt, and flour and mix together. Add the butter, a small bit at a time, continuing to beat until the dough comes together. It doesn't need to be smooth, and will still look pretty shaggy, but that’s fine. It will smooth out as you go. In the stand mixer fitted with the dough hook, knead the dough for at least 5 minutes until smooth and elastic. If it looks way too sticky, add a bit of flour as needed until smooth and bouncy.
Lightly grease a large bowl and place the dough in it. Cover it with plastic wrap or a damp tea towel and let it sit in a warm place until the dough is doubled with size, about 1 1/2 hours.
At this point, you can either continue on and bake the babka, or if you don’t have time or want to make it ahead, you can gently deflate the dough with your hands by pressing down on it, and then refrigerate it (covered) overnight. This will actually improve the flavor!
Once the dough has risen, divide it in half. One at a time, turn each piece out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll the dough into a 15” x 11” rectangle: don’t worry too much about the size, you just want it roughly this large. If the dough fights you, let it rise for a few minutes until it is relaxed enough to press, stretch, and roll into shape. Sometimes if the dough is very obedient and pliable, you can just use your hands to press and stretch it without needing to roll it.
When your dough is prepped, add the filling. I like to warm the Nutella slightly, especially if you’ve kept it in the fridge but even if it’s at room temperature. It’s helpful to have it just ever-so-slightly warmed but you don’t want to over-warm it or it’ll be too messy.
Using a spoon, spread the Nutella across the dough (dividing it evenly between both dough pieces), leaving an inch or two around the edges. Now sprinkle the crumbled halva evenly over the Nutella, and finish with a little sprinkling of sea salt.
Working with one piece at a time, roll the dough lengthwise into a log. Using moistened fingers, pinch and seal the seam. It’s okay if some Nutella seeps out! Just carry on and know that this part is always messy but also always ends up with gorgeous results.
Cut each log in half crosswise. Take the two halves and lay them across each other—to form a cross. Twist them gently together, spiraling them (they won’t twist much as they’re bulky—that’s okay), and then place them in the prepared pans. Cover lightly with plastic wrap and let rise for about 45 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. If you want the bread to be shinier, whisk together an egg yolk with some water and brush it over the top of the bread. This is totally optional! You can also wait until you pull the breads from the oven and immediately brush them with melted butter, which also gives a nice shine.
Place the bread in the oven and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until evenly golden brown. Remove from the oven and let cool.