At three o’clock this morning, Hurricane Isaias moved up the coast towards New Jersey. Too tired to read, and too awake to lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to rain and wind, it seemed a good time to have nice hot rolls ready for breakfast. Prince Stepan Arkadyich’s kalatch, to be exact.

Today we’ll be talking about Anna Karenina.

I gave Anna Karenina its own line because it is just that kind of book. Everyone knows the famous first few words:

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

It’s a simple truth stated elegantly, and I love the Russian writers most for their simple elegance. Tolstoy’s pages are full of passages that hit upon the human condition just so. This time around I read the new(ish) Pevear/Volokhonsky translation. What strikes me about Tolstoy’s writing, is that it is contemporary in its exploration of human struggles, but at the same time, we never forget that this is a world (now lost) with its own mores, customs, etiquette, and crushing expectations.

Prince Stepan Arkadyich Oblonsky has been caught out by his wife; he was having an affair with the governess. The house is in an uproar. (‘All is confusion’, thought Stepan Arkadyich. ‘Now the children are running around on their own.’) The children are running wild; his wife has been crying for three days and says she can no longer live with him. And yet, Stepan is placid, able to enjoy his morning newspaper, his coffee, and his breakfast kalatch. (Compare this with the nearly 800 pages of torment Anna Karenina suffers over her affair with Count Vronsky, ended only by locomotive, no kalatch in sight.)

After following me down the steps this morning, not even the dog wanted to be up once I started cooking.

Having finished the newspaper, a second cup of coffee, and a kalatch with butter, he got up, brushed the crumbs from his waistcoat and, expanding his broad chest, smiled joyfully, not because there was anything pleasant in his heart-the smile was evoked by good digestion.

Ah, to be a prince.

There is one confession I do have to make here before we get started, and that is: this entry is for my bread machine people. Yes, I used it to make the dough! I know everyone is making their pandemic sourdough starters right now, and homemade this and that. I have a bread machine, and I love it, and it’s very handy. Especially on a sleepless, rainy night. I threw it all in the machine and then baked the actual rolls off in the oven. The problem is that I’ve never had a kalatch, and according to the footnotes, Stepan’s breakfast is not the fruit- filled pastry that you find in the midwest of the United States, but a plain, fine white roll, (usually shaped like a purse, which I didn’t attempt.) So I came up with what I imagined an aristocratic, fine -crumbed, golden breakfast bread would look like in Tolstoy’s Russia- the opposite of the sour, rye based bread that the rest of the population was eating.

For my dough (this all goes in the machine):

3/4 cup water
1 egg
1 1/4 tsp salt
3 TB sugar
3 TB butter
3 1/4 cup white flour
1/4 cup milk
1 1/2 tsp bread machine yeast
Make your dough in the machine on the dough cycle. Cut the dough into pieces, and place on a parchment lined baking sheet, and then shape and rest, covered, in a warm spot, for 20 minutes, or until about doubled in size.

This is a very fine, delicate dough. You’ll need a sharp knife.

After your bread has risen, brush with a combination of milk, melted butter, and sugar. This is important to get a beautiful golden crust. Then bake in a 350 degree oven for about 20 to 30 minutes, brushing with the milk mixture frequently.

Bread is done when it is a beautiful golden brown and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped.

These are beautifully soft and fine. This bread towel was brought back from Ukraine for me many years ago by a friend.

I like my coffee with extra milk and sugar, and just a splash of coffee! After this I had no trouble getting back to sleep.