Prior to working at theCulinary Institute of America, I have to admit that I had never heard of Monkey Bread. Yes, apparently I was brought up under a rock, but it’s true. The first time I had Monkey Bread was at school. Our pastry classes produced one of their famous tempting tables of sugary sweets for students and faculty to devour, and there it was. I had no idea what it was, but when I dug in, it was love at first bite.
Numerous Internet searches have left me puzzled as to the origin, as well as the name, of this delicious treat. I read about it having origins in the early American kitchen as a one-pot kind of dessert and that makes sense. After an initial mix of the dough and an overnight rise, the hard part is over. The list of ingredients is limited so I can envision some pioneer cook making this on the trail and cooking it over an open fire in a cast iron skillet.
Written recipes for Monkey Bread started appearing in the U.S. around 1930, and apparently the silent film star Zasu Pitts was fond of whipping up batches of Monkey Bread in her spare time. Monkey Bread became popular over the next few decades in the U.S. and when Nancy Reagan started serving it at the White House, it became an American tradition. Monkey Bread, aka Puzzle Bread, aka Hungarian Coffee Cake, may not have originated in the United States but in Hungary, where my paternal grandmother was born. And so, in my search for a dish that was previously unknown to me, I am somehow guided to an ancestral tradition. I think that grandmom would be pleased.
Betty Crocker started printing recipes of something referred to as Hungarian Coffee Cake. The Hungarian version of this treat is known as aranygaluska, which translates to “golden dumpling.” There is evidence in Hungarian literature dating back to the 1800s of this delicious dish. It makes sense that this treat made its way here to the U.S. At the turn of the century, there were thousands of Hungarians like my grandmother pouring into the United States, bringing their native culinary traditions with them. The true aranygaluska is served with vanilla custard and was probably not as heavy on the sugar, and certainly not as gooey, as our American cousin, Monkey Bread.
And so, why is Monkey Bread referred to as such? Some say that it resembles a pile of monkeys and others suggest that it is more fun than “a barrel of monkeys” — and I do have to say that it is fun to eat. There is a major problem associated with eating it, at least in my case. You just can’t stop picking off those buttery, sugary, delicious pieces of dough.
This past Easter Sunday, my other half decided that he wanted to make Monkey Bread. I was resolved not to even taste one single piece, but that lasted about 20 minutes. That Monkey Bread was gone by the end of the night — we had to send half of it away with our dinner guests just to be safe. I just could not resist and was so clearly out of control that I am going to have to blame this on my grandmother and my Hungarian roots calling me back home. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.
“Chef’s Corner” appears Wednesday. Lynne Gigliotti is an assistant professor in culinary arts at the Culinary Institute of America. Contact her at life@poughkeepsiejournal.com
