The first time I had a bite of this Monkey Bread, my mom put a plate in my hands and said, “This is to-die-for.” That’s very high praise from my mom. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say that a dish was to-die-for. I put the plate on the counter and several hours later, the munchies hit and I took a few nibbles. Good, but I wouldn’t have qualified them as to-die-for. I just chalked it up to different tastebuds, even though my mom and I tend to like a lot of the same things.
This past weekend, we headed down the shore to celebrate Memorial Day. I was armed with a few new recipes I wanted to try, and Nick was armed with plans for a grand seashell search. And my mom? She had plans to make this Monkey Bread again and one afternoon, her and Nick set to work in the kitchen. When they were done, she pulled the dish from the oven and set it down on the table. “I love this stuff,” she said. “Go on, try it again. I think it makes a difference if you eat it when it’s warm.”
And it does. The difference between eating just one piece and restraining yourself from inhaling the entire plate yourself. Honestly, warm biscuits, sugar, cinnamon and butter, how could you go wrong? Lesson learned? Eat them warm and they truly are to-die-for. Thank goodness half the platter came home with us as leftovers. I think.