Drabynka (драбинка, ritual ladder bread)

A ladder made from dough is faith with flour on its hands. Two long rails, little rungs laid across them, egg glaze turning gold in the oven, honey catching in the joins. Nothing hidden. The bread tells you exactly what it is for: climbing.

Drabynka, little ladder, belongs to Voznesinnia, Ascension, the fortieth day after Easter, when spring has properly taken the yard and the dough rises as if it has understood the feast. Some families made small ladders for each child, some baked one large one for the table, and some carried them to church or to graves before the meal. I make one generous loaf because my table is greedy and because symbolic bread should still be good bread.

The one thing that decides it is the dough's strength. Enrich it with milk, egg, butter, and a little honey, but knead until it pulls smooth and elastic under your palms, otherwise the rungs slump and the ladder loses its back. Aunt Nadia would have written, "until it sounds right," and here she would mean the soft slap of living dough against the board. Listen for that.

Eat it warm or cooled, with butter, honey, or sour cherry preserves if you've a jar open. The shape carries the old meaning, but the bread only lives because somebody tears a rung off and passes it across the table.