Velykodni Baby (великодні баби, Easter babka)

The first thing you notice is the height. Not a loaf, not a cake pretending to be bread, but a golden tower that climbs up the tin and makes everyone at the Easter table lean in a little. Velykodni baby, Easter babas, are sweeter and more delicate than paska, egg-rich enough to glow, with raisins tucked through the crumb and a warm glaze sliding over the dome.

This is celebration dough, which means it asks for patience before it asks for strength. The butter and sugar make it soft and slow, and the yolks make it tender, so you let the yeast wake properly before asking it to lift all that richness. The dough should feel elastic and alive, not stiff. Aunt Nadia wrote, "until it breathes under the cloth," which took me three attempts and one very sulky brick to understand.

The one thing that decides the dish is the rise in the tin. Fill it only halfway and wait until the dough domes close to the rim; that last quiet swell gives you the tall crumb instead of a squat sweet bread. If your kitchen is cold, give it time. Easter bread does not care about your schedule.

Bake enough for the basket, the table, and the neighbour who says she only wants a small slice. There is no such slice.