How Babka Ended Up Next to Scones in a Singapore Café

…and why that says a lot about the city, cultural fusion, and the next big thing in sweet treat prediction.

Photo Credit: by Luda Zueva, author @Ludasg

The word Babka makes me smile. It sounds funny — soft and loafy, like the baked good itself. And for anyone who grew up in a Slavic household, it lands even closer to home. Babushka, after all, means grandmother in Russian, and in many other Slavic languages too. It shares the same root: bab, the archetypal wise, no-nonsense, warm-hearted older woman who probably fed you something delicious whether you asked for it or not.

So yes — Babka is already loaded with emotional starch before you even take a bite.

But something is undeniably surreal when you stumble across a Chocolate Babka in a cozy Singapore café, nestled right between a very explainable scone (colonial legacy) and a cookie stuffed with Nutella (globalized goodness). What’s this deeply Eastern European Jewish cake doing here, in the tropics?

Photo credit: by Luda Zueva, author @Ludasg

Well, it’s a layered story. Like the Babka itself.

The Layers of Babka

At first bite, Babka feels unmistakably different: fluffy and rich, with swirls of deep chocolate tucked into a golden-brown chewy dough. It’s not just bread. Not quite cake either. And unlike French pastries, it doesn’t try to be delicate. It’s bold. Generous. Sweet with confidence.

As Russian, I would paired it with black tea and lemon — because that’s just how you consume things. But black tea is not common in Singapore cafe and I ordered a double-shot cappuccino and the experience still felt very soothing and babushka’s.

Despite of sound familiarity, babka isn’t actually a Russian thing. It was born out of the Jewish communities who lived across Eastern Europe — in areas that are now Poland, Ukraine, Lithuania, and Belarus. These communities, perpetually migrating and rather poor, made do with what they had: leftover challah dough was rolled up with cinnamon or jam, creating a sweet, shareable bread for Shabbat.

It wasn’t until the waves of Jewish immigration to New York in the early 20th century — particularly the 1930s and ’40s — that Babka became something more iconic. American bakers swapped jam for chocolate. Loaves got denser. More decadent. More “Brooklyn.” And before long, Babka had become a staple in Jewish bakeries across the city.

Then came 1994, and a certain Seinfeld episode turned Babka into pop culture legend.

“Cinnamon takes a backseat to no Babka!”

If you know, you know. In that now-iconic Seinfeld episode, Jerry and Elaine show up late to a party and try to buy a Babka from the local bakery. But the last chocolate Babka is gone, so they’re stuck with the cinnamon one. Cue the existential crisis: is cinnamon Babka… lesser?

I admit — I agree with Jerry. Chocolate Babka hits harder. It’s dessert in bread form. Cinnamon Babka is pleasant. But it’s not the real Babka.

When Babka Met Baba

Now, here’s where my own food memory gets twisted. The first time I bought a Chocolate Babka in Singapore, I had a sudden flashback — not to Babushka, but to Rom Baba.

Back in Soviet Moscow, Romovaya Baba (Rum Baba) was the treat you only found in state-run “advance” bakeries — those oddly magical places with better ovens and mysterious imports. Rom Baba was allegedly soaked in rom, topped with white glaze, and had the taste consistency of a grown-up cake pretending to be a brioche. It was desirable not because it was particularly delicious — but because it was rare. And that’s enough when you’re 12 and curious about forbidden things like chocolates wrapped with foil with vodka inside.

Rom Baba and Babka are definitely cousins. They share similar dough DNA. But one took the boozy French route, the other stayed modest and just overdosed on chocolate. Rom Baba was the Soviet flirtation with Western decadence. Babka is humble folks resilience, rolled up with bittersweet sweetness.

A Sweet Treat Out of Place or Perfectly Placed?

So when I saw Babka — the Babka — casually hanging out in a small café on Depot Road in Singapore, I had a moment. Not quite a Seinfeld moment. More like a cultural déjà vu. What was this Jewish-Polish-New Yorker baked good doing here, amid pandan waffles and Kopi-Os and Cs?

Then I remembered: Singapore have been absorbing and blending. Like New York, it thrives on complexity. On fusion. On honoring what people bring when they land on this island. And food is the language everyone speaks fluently.

Photo credit: Diliara Garifullina at UnSplash

In a city obsessed with flavor and novelty, Babka didn’t need a PR campaign. It just showed up. Swirled its chocolate. And waited. And now I can totally imagine it taking off again — like macarons, or burnt cheesecake, or sourdough before them.

The café Mad Roaster on Depot road might not be hyped yet, but if it ever happens, you bet I’ll be that woman saying: I was enjoying Babka before it went viral…

Singapore, May 2025