By Joe Baur
This article originally appeared on The Nosher.
One morning, my wife suggested I look into making a different kind of bread. Not necessarily to replace my weekly challah habit, but just to try something new. I asked what she had in mind and she mentioned monkey bread. I’d never heard of it.
So I Googled and turns out that monkey bread is actually a yeasted cake. Its origins are rooted in the immigrant Hungarian Jewish community that came to the United States. I immediately thought of my father’s grandparents, Jews who immigrated from the former Austro-Hungarian Empire. I texted my father and sure enough he remembered his grandmother, Bertha Stern, making him what she called Hungarian coffee cake, but what many call aranygaluska.
Aranygaluska looks something like a Bundt cake without the doughnut hole and the splash of powdered sugar. That’s because the goodness lies within, where the warm, gooey jam awaits between doughy dumplings covered in butter, cinnamon and brown sugar. Aranygaluska has all the characteristics of a dessert but can just as easily go down with your morning cup of coffee.
Jewish food historian Gil Marks included aranygaluska in his Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, noting the arrival of the “golden dumpling” in the 1880s. Hungarian Jewish immigrants started selling it in their bakeries sometime in the mid-20th century, and it transcended Jewish foods when it was included in a 1972 edition of Betty Crocker, referred to as “Hungarian Coffee Cake,” as my great-grandmother called it.
Eventually it became known as monkey bread. There’s no definitive reason why, but one of the more popular theories is that the act of pulling the bread apart mimicked how a monkey picks something apart.
Joan Nathan, the matriarch of American Ashkenazi cuisine, says she first came across the recipe in George Lang’s “The Cuisine of Hungary” (1971). She also notes that replacing the walnuts with cocoa turns the dish into the wonderfully Yiddish kuchem-buchem.
I admittedly was a bit verklempt when I realized I had stumbled upon a heritage food, especially one laced with two of my favorite ingredients, cinnamon and honey.
This is great for an inexperienced baker because it’s a difficult recipe to screw up. As you get your dough together, it just involves taking pieces of that dough, swooshing them around in bowls of butter and cinnamon sugar, then arranging the chunks of sweetness in layers. Fill the gaps with jam and you’re set.

