In preparation for a get together, I decided to make Monkey Bread. I'd been eyeing this recipe for quite some time, but had talked myself out of it for a variety of reasons, like time and inexperience. At 8 o'clock on a Friday night, I has a fuck-it moment and I went for it.
As with every single recipe I ever do, I am plagued with doubt. The dough seemed too sticky and then too dry. I ran out of melted butter and used a bundt pan that is screaming to be replaced. I literally do this to myself each time I bake, yet 90% of my endeavors turn out delicious.
Thankfully the Monkey Bread was part of the 90%...I think.
After letting the dough rise twice and baking it, the inversion turned out fine. The cream cheese glaze looked and tasted great. I stole a piece to 'make sure it's done,' and god damn it was tasty. About an hour after finishing it, about 2am, it was time for bed. The next day would consist of being with great people who would eat the bread and say 'yay.'
Nope! Instead I woke up with a cold. Boyfriend went and I have yet to hear how well the Monkey Bread was received. My mucusy invaders is also why this post is both long and uncharacteristically dull. Mucus acts as a fun filter, both inbound and outbound. Booooo!
No comments:
Post a Comment