Monkey Bread
Medically reviewed by Christiana George Updated Date: June 8, 2023
Chris and I went to Montauk for the long weekend, and when we arrived home, we found out that our Internet modem was “out of signal” and the earliest that Time Warner can send a repairman is Friday. FRIDAY. That translates to about 5,000 years by web standards.
The sad fact is, I am hopelessly reliant on the Internet. Without it within finger’s reach, a lot of my daily processes have come to a screeching halt. Like blogging. And emailing. Pinning. Uploading. Researching. Entertaining. I mean, what do we not do using the Internet these days?
No matter. Life must go on.
About my weekend, here’s my two cents: unless you’re prepared to eat at the same two restaurants for six meals in a row, don’t go to tourist spots during off season. Montauk was dead. And cold. And, we decided to take the Hampton Jitney, thinking it would be way more economical than renting a car, and ended up spending an exorbitant amount on taxi rides because apparently, everything’s not walkable like I’d previously thought.
Again, no matter. It was fun despite everything, and we got our fill of seafood (the seafood bruschetta at Harvest on Fort Pond is REALLY good—highly recommended). But once again, we were hit by the fact that, out here, the seasons are a serious force to contend with. In California, where the weather is about the same year round, there’s no reason not to take a break from reality and drive out to some middle-of-nowhere town at any time in the year. And that’s exactly what Chris and I would do, often.
I made this monkey bread in preparation for the trip. Chris perked up like a little boy when I took it out of the oven, although the smells emanating from the kitchen had already set off a Pavlovian response far earlier.
Come to think of it, who wouldn’t perk up at the sight of monkey bread? It’s part cinnamon roll, part donut hole, and baked in a Bundt pan so it looks pretty to boot. Chris ooh’d and aah’d when I tipped it out of the pan, and hovered nearby as I drizzled the glaze over the top. And when I pulled a piece off to demonstrate how fun it was to eat, he eagerly joined in. I think monkey bread brings the inner child out of all of us.
With the glaze, it’s quite decadent, but I liked it for that fact. I don’t give myself the opportunity to indulge in sugary breakfasts often, so I’ll take whatever excuses I can get.
We enjoyed it the last few mornings with coffee (luckily, we were able to find one cafe in town that was open. Don’t know how I would’ve coped without the precious liquid), plucking pieces off in their perfect bite-sized units.
And outside, the howling wind whipped our little finger of land, heaving snow dust everywhere and freezing the ocean surf.
MONKEY BREAD
Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated via Mel’s Kitchen Cafe
Fills one 10-inch Bundt pan
Ingredients:
2 Tbsp melted butter, plus softened butter for buttering pan
1 cup milk, warm (about 110 degrees)
1/3 cup water, warm (about 110 degrees)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 1/4 tsp instant yeast
3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for work surface
2 tsp salt
Brown sugar coating:
1 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tsp ground cinnamon
8 Tbsp butter (1 stick), melted
Glaze:
1 cup confectioner’s sugar
3 Tbsp milk
Directions:
Butter a Bundt pan liberally with softened butter. Set aside.
In a large measuring cup, mix together the melted butter, milk, water, sugar, and yeast. Mix the flour and salt together in a standing mixer fitted with dough hook. Turn the machine to low and slowly add the milk mixture. After the dough comes together, increase the speed to medium and mix until the dough is shiny and smooth, 6 to 7 minutes. If you think the dough is too wet (i.e. having a hard time forming a cohesive mass), add 2 Tbsp flour at a time and mix until the dough comes together (it should still be on the sticky side, just not overly wet). Coat a large bowl with nonstick cooking spray. Place the dough in the bowl and turn to coat lightly with the cooking spray. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the dough rise until doubled, 1-2 hours.
For the sugar coating, while the dough is rising, mix the brown sugar and cinnamon together in a bowl. Place the melted butter in a second bowl or shallow pie plate. Set aside.
To form the bread, gently remove the dough from the bowl and press it into a rough 8-inch square. Using a bench scraper or knife, cut the dough into 64 pieces.
Roll each dough piece into a ball (it doesn’t have to be perfect, just get it into a rough ball-shape). Working one at a time, dip the balls in melted butter, allowing excess butter to drip back into the bowl or pie plate. Roll the dipped dough ball in the brown sugar mixture, then layer the balls in the Bundt pan, staggering the seams where the dough balls meet as you build layers.
Cover the Bundt pan tightly with plastic wrap and let the monkey bread rise until puffy, 1-2 hours.
Heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Unwrap the pan and bake until the top is deep brown and caramel begins to bubble around edges, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool the monkey bread in the pan for 5 minutes (any longer and the bread will be too sticky and hard to remove!), then turn out on a platter or large plate and allow to cool slightly, about 10 minutes.
For the glaze, while the bread cools, whisk the confectioner’s sugar and milk together in a small bowl until the mixture is smooth. Using a spoon, drizzle the glaze over the warm monkey bread, letting it run over the top and sides of the bread. Serve warm.
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Roasted Asparagus With Miso Butter And A Poached Egg
1. This is what happens when an unseasonably warm day comes along, the first in what has felt like a very long winter, the first where you could leave the house with nothing but a light jacket on, the first where a cold beer actually sounded like a good idea: you jump the gun just a bit while also taking some liberties with your convictions. A twofer, and I’ll let myself have it.
I usually stick to eating what’s in season, or at least I try to stick to eating what’s in season, but the asparagus on sale at the market called out my name. “Lindaaaaaa, buy uuuuuus,” they squeaked. Or are asparagus not squeakers? Whatever the case, I’m gonna be honest here: I’m not the perfect locavore. I buy tomatoes in the winter, okay? I eat watermelon pretty much all year round. And if strawberries are on sale tomorrow, I’ll snatch them up, dangit! (But I know they won’t be good, let’s just be clear about that.)
2. An exemplary egg is a sight to behold. If this isn’t the most ravishing yolk you’ve ever seen and the highest-shouldered whites (it’s an egg term), then you must point me in the direction of an egg purveyor easy reachable by the New York subway system. (These eggs are from the Northshire Farm stand at the Union Square Greenmarket, by the way. Highly recommended.).
I made it to the farmer’s market for the first time this year last Saturday. Do you ever do that thing where, if you can’t find what you needed to buy, you find something to buy anyway? It’s how I’ve ended up with some of the more random ingredients in my pantry: juniper berries, chocolate sprinkles, rock sugar, chickpea flour, and bags of frozen bird’s eye chilis, all of which have (mostly) gone untouched.
This isn’t to say that eggs are unusual, but $5 for a dozen goes outside my normal comfort zone. (I have spent $6 for half a dozen, but how can anyone refuse such beauties?)
3. Miso butter. Misobuttermisobuttermisobuttermisobutter. MISO BUTTER! It’s a word to scream out from rooftops, songs should be written about it (sung by squeaky asparagus[es?]), trees and forearms should get it tattooed into their flesh, except I don’t like the thought of cutting into a tree with a sharp object.
Okay, fine, you want concreteness, I get it. In short: if any vegetarian ever complains about missing bacon, point them in the direction of this genius pairing. Miso butter is meaty and rich and lip-smackingly salty. It almost reminds me of MSG-laden Asian snack foods, which I realize isn’t exactly a positive description to most of you, but that’s because you only found out about it after it had gone on the blacklist. I grew up eating MSG like it was no big thing, just a magic seasoning that perked up most meals and made them more flavorful and delicious. Get it? Got it? Good.
For more miso butter ideas, check out Kristy’s ideas. I can’t wait for fresh corn season!
So there you have it: how I arrived at this dead-simple recipe, in three disjointed parts. Just to let you know, this last week so far has been kicking my butt. I’m going to blame it on the switch to Daylight Saving time, which I wouldn’t have even known about if the cashier ringing me up while I was buying the asparagus hadn’t mentioned it. (Instead, I would’ve entertained some indulgent fantasy about how I was under the weather, and spent half a morning hiding under the covers while drinking boatloads of coffee—someone pull me out from under my rock please?)
But things are looking up and up—like the mercury! Happy early spring!
ROASTED ASPARAGUS WITH MISO BUTTER AND A POACHED EGG
Adapted from Momofuku by David Chang
I wouldn’t call this recipe a recipe so much as a jumping off point. The miso butter’s the real novelty here, and I’d hate to give an exact quantity that you have to make as you can totally make a batch, store it in the fridge, and use it up gradually with anything and everything. I started off with half a cup (8 Tbsp) of butter and 1/4 cup (4 Tbsp) of miso paste.
Also, miso paste varies in saltiness but is usually quite salty, so a little miso butter goes a long way. Make sure to use unsalted butter!
Ingredients:
- 2 parts unsalted butter, room temperature
- 1 part white miso paste
- Asparagus
- Eggs, poached
Directions:
Whisk the butter and miso paste together until well combined.
For a plate of roasted asparagus with miso butter and a poached egg:
Roast a handful of asparagus per person (6 to 10 spears maybe?) at 475 degrees F for around 10 minutes (don’t forget the light coat of olive oil, salt and pepper).Meanwhile, toast some bread.
I know most of you have your poaching technique down, but if not, I’ve found that really fresh room temperature eggs poach the best. Also, I don’t ever add salt or vinegar to the water. Rather, I a) crack the egg into an espresso cup, b) after the water comes to a boil, I decrease the temperature to a simmer and use a chopstick to make a small vortex in the middle of the pot, c) quickly tip the egg out of the cup and into the middle of the pot. The spinning water molds the egg whites so they don’t go all over the place once they’ve hit the water. Keep the water at a simmer and remove the egg with a slotted spoon once the whites have set sort of firmly. I don’t think this ever takes longer than 2 to 3 minutes.
Finally, plating: set a pat of miso butter in the middle of a plate. Lay however many spears of asparagus you want to eat on top. Finally, lay the poached egg over the asparagus, sprinkle a little salt and pepper on it, and serve with the toasted bread. Enjoy!
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