CinnaBabka Streusel Muffins

Midterm season is upon us here in Madison, but I just survived my first round (plus a few interviews, club meetings, and apartment hunting escapades thrown in for good measure). That means it's time for something completely and utterly decadent. This recipe came about when I couldn't decide which breakfast food I wanted to drown my sorrows in. I love the smell of cinnamon buns in the morning, but I'm addicted to coffee cake, too. I also love the idea of wrapping chocolate in bread dough Babka-style.

The solution? Take all three dishes, combine them using about a pound of butter (yes, you read that right), and you've got something that will get you through just about any crisis. These things got me through accelerated summer organic chemistry, people. Don't underestimate them.

The backbone of these rolls/muffins is some old-fashioned, vanilla-scented, butter-loaded brioche dough. Brioche is currently taking over the bakery scene, and for good reason. It's incredibly light and fluffy but simultaneously rich and substantial. Unlike most breads, it contains butter and eggs, which add flavor, color, and tenderness. I also add some sugar since it's a sweet breakfast bun, but keep in mind that the filling is pretty sweet, too, and you don't want to go into a sugar coma until you're on at least your third one. The brioche also gets a hearty splash of vanilla because I grew up in a family where you can't bake anything without it.

You may notice something a little odd about my brioche "bread" recipe. Hint: it doesn't use bread flour. Before you call me out on that, just know that just last week in my super advanced high-tech ahead-of-the-crowd introduction to food science class, we had a lab dedicated to baking breads with different types of flour to see what effect the gluten content has on the texture, color, height, etc. of bread.

Turns out that the all-purpose flour made decent bread, and I don't want a strong network of gluten anyway. That's great for hearty, crusty loaves to dip in olive oil as an appetizer or snack (or an entire meal... I won't judge), but I want my brioche to be tender and short (mouthfeel, not height; these will still rise nicely). All-purpose flour has just enough gluten to rise and brown but not too much that it's hard and chewy.

The finished bread dough has to rise for about 90 minutes, but there's still plenty to do. I like to make the filling during the first rise so that it's ready to go when the dough is finished. Traditional cinnamon buns get smeared with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, but I want something more. Coffee cake-inspired streusel and chunks of rich dark chocolate are poured onto the dough and rolled up so that every bite is infused with fragrant cinnamon and oozing delicious chocolate.

The streusel is my standard recipe, the one I use in my peach crumb cake, raspberry chocolate almond coffee cake, and pretty much any other breakfast treat that could be improved by cinnamony, buttery goodness. It's a simple combination of sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, salt, butter, and flour. I use enough sugar to make it sweet enough for my taste, a full stick of butter since all streusel needs butter, and enough flour to hold it together. I go pretty easy on the cinnamon since I'm all about the chocolate, but if you're feeling particularly excited about fall baking (perfectly understandable), throw in as much as you want.

The last component of these insane bites of heaven is the chocolate. This is my favorite part, and I always have to buy more chocolate than I intend to use because of course I need to check the quality before I use it (read: eat 50% of it because I'm denying my chocoholism). You can use chocolate chips, chocolate chunks, milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, or whatever else you can find that I didn't name.

The important thing is that there's a lot of it; my favorite thing about these buns is biting into them and getting perfectly melted chocolate absolutely everywhere. My personal preference is to use bittersweet baking bars and chop them into chunks of various sizes for a rustic look. You end up getting chocolate in every bite, but each bite tastes different because you get different proportions of brioche, streusel, and chocolate.

Once your dough has risen, your streusel has been mixed, and your chocolate has been prepared/partially consumed, it's time to start assembling. Unless you're a professional who can somehow wrangle 2' long dough logs that spill streusel and chocolate all over your kitchen, I recommend splitting the dough in half. Roll each half into a large, thin rectangle (the thinner the rectangle the bigger the spiral/more filling you can stuff in there) and cover with half the streusel and the chocolate.

Starting from the side closest to you, gently but firmly roll the dough away from you into a tight cylinder. Cut the cylinder into about 14 rounds and place each into a greased muffin cup. You could bake these in a big pyrex pan all together like some people make cinnamon rolls, but I prefer the muffin tins so that there's more crust and they bake more evenly.

Repeat this process with the other half of the dough, streusel, and chocolate, and don't worry if your second batch comes out nicer than the first. I try to serve my friends only the pretty ones, so if some of them are ugly it just means I get to eat more of them. I should point out, though, that I don't think anyone will care how attractive they are. To quote one of my esteemed lab-mates who has been in the industry for years, has traveled around the world (literally), and knows pretty much everything about confections, "These things are like crack." I hope you enjoy these as much as my friends, labmates, and I do, and just try not to think about the massive amounts of butter in them.

Dough:
1 Cup Warm Milk
1/2 Cup + 1 T Sugar
1 T Yeast
2 Eggs
1 Egg Yolk
2 tsp Vanilla
1/2 tsp Salt
4 Cups Flour
12 T Butter, Softened & Cubed

Filling:
1/3 Cup Sugar
1/3 Cup Dark Brown Sugar
1 tsp Cinnamon
1/4 tsp Salt
1 1/2 Cups Flour
1 Stick Butter, Melted
8 oz Chocolate, Chopped

Whisk the milk, 1 T sugar, and the yeast together. Let sit until the yeast is activated and foamy, about 5 minutes. Add the eggs, yolk, and vanilla. Stir in the salt. Gradually beat in three cups of flour, then add the butter a few cubes at a time. Add the remaining flour as necessary to form a soft but not too sticky dough.

Transfer the dough to a greased bowl, cover, and let rise for 90 minutes.

Meanwhile, for the filling, whisk the sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, and salt together. Stir in the butter, then add the flour.

Split the dough in half and roll each portion into a large, thin rectangle, about 12x18". Sprinkle half of the streusel filling and half the chopped chocolate evenly onto the dough, pressing lightly to adhere. Cut into 14 cylinders and place each in a greased muffin tin. Repeat with the remaining dough, filling, and chocolate.

Cover the muffins and let rise for another hour.

Heat oven to 350F.

Bake the muffins until golden and cooked through, about 25 minutes.

Makes 28
Inspired by How Sweet Eats

Stovetop Mac n Cheese

Anyone in a 5 mile radius knows that there is a plague making its way through campus, and I've been stuck with it for about a week now. People have made a game out of people coughing in lecture since it's impossible to go 10 seconds without hearing someone hack up a lung. It's pretty gross world outside, kids, and that means it's time for comfort food.

My floormates are convinced that our dining hall makes fantastic mac n cheese, but I just don't get it. It's often dried out and crusty, and I like mine gooey and creamy, a.k.a. stovetop mac n cheese It's a five-ingredient masterpiece that is better than the box and perfect for chilly fall weeknights, especially if you're sick and craving easy comfort food. Since I realize that some people like baked mac n cheese with crisp, buttery breadcrumbs, I included a variation below for that as well.

One of the reasons why I like this recipe is because it's so simple. Why labor over mac n cheese from scratch if the box is right there? Luckily this recipe is almost as easy, and you get to eat your favorite (*REAL*) cheese instead of the neon orange powder, which will be phased out to a more "normal" color in 2016. You can pick any cheese or combination of cheeses you want, as long as you have at least one good melting cheese in there. Cheddar is my go-to, but you can add or swap pepperjack for a spicy kick, or American or Velveeta for an extra-gooey bowl. Parmesan and/or gruyere are great for adding complex, nutty notes, and fontina or brie would add a lovely richness. Try talking to the people at your grocery store's cheese counter for advice on flavor combinations.

Contrary to what most Wisconsinites would like to think, you do need to add a little more than just cheese to your mac to make the perfect mac n cheese. No matter how good at melting your cheese may be, it just won't have the creaminess of a good mac n cheese unless you make a bechamel sauce as a base, which just involves making a quick roux and adding some milk.

A roux is a mixture of fat and flour. My fat of choice is butter because it imparts such a great flavor. I add the flour to the hot butter and whisk it until thick and golden. This is a blonde roux since I want a mild flavor, which means avoiding excessive browning. When the roux is done, I take it off the heat and slowly whisk in the milk. It's going to get really, really thick and then start to thin out, but it is crucial that you stir in the milk slowly to avoid lumps. I'll say it again--DO THIS PART SLOWLY UNLESS YOU WANT LUMPY MAC N CHEESE. Once you have a perfectly smooth, velvety bechamel, stir in your mountains of grated cheese and whisk until smooth again. Grating your cheese (or breaking it into small pieces if it's too soft to shred) makes it melt faster, which means you can eat sooner.

I hate to write about the pasta as an afterthought, but I'm pretty sure everyone has cooked pasta at some point in their life. Heat some water to a boil, add lots of salt (but no oil), and cook your pasta until al dente, especially if you want to bake your mac n cheese later. Drain it and save some of the water for the sauce if you want to thicken it up a bit. Adding starchy pasta water is a much better idea than throwing in raw flour.

Finally, you can bring everything together by dumping the pasta into the sauce and pouring the whole thing into a bowl just for you. Well, maybe not, but at least give yourself more than the stingy scoop the dining hall employees give my friends and I. If you want to bake your mac n cheese, spread it into a glass pan (preferably with ~2" tall sides to contain it), top with panko crumbs and/or more grated cheese, and bake until golden and bubbly at around 375. You can also stir in bacon, other meats or sausages, fresh or roasted vegetables, more cheese, or whatever else you have on hand. My ideal ratio is 40% cheese, 40% bacon, and 20% pasta, but you do you.

4 Cups Milk, Warmed
6 T Butter
1/2 Cup Flour
1 1/2 lbs Pasta
4 Cups Shredded Cheese (Cheddar, American, Pepperjack, Parmesan, etc.)

Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the flour and whisk constantly until lightly browned, about 4 minutes, and remove from heat. Slowly whisk in the milk and season generously with salt and pepper. Return the pot to low heat and cook until thickened, about 4 minutes.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente according to package directions.

Meanwhile, whisk the cheese into the bechamel. Drain the pasta, stir into the sauce, and serve immediately. To bake, see directions above.

Serves 6
Recipe Adapted from Chow

Buttermilk Roasted Chicken with Gravy

It turns out that pretty much every freshman at UW is jealous of my dorm this year. It's basically like living in a hotel, and the best part is that there's a kitchen on every floor. Yep, I just have to walk 30 feet and I'm at the stove, with the exception of having to walk uphill both ways to the bus stop and wait an hour to get on a bus to get groceries and then having to rent a bunch of kitchen equipment from the desk downstairs. In other words, it is actually possible to cook in my dorm this year, but I have to keep things really simple. That's good news for you guys because you get delicious recipes with minimal equipment and prep time, like this fantastic roasted chicken with gravy.

What makes this chicken so perfectly juicy and tender is the buttermilk, which is why it's first in the name of the dish. I found out the hard way this summer that buttermilk isn't exactly common outside of the south, but it's definitely worth searching for. The acidity breaks down the meat and imparts an incomparable tenderness to the cooked meat. You know how all good fried chicken starts with buttermilk? Well now all roasted chicken does, too.

I season the buttermilk with a variety of spices. Other than the gravy, this is what brings the flavor, so be generous and alter the proportions to fit your taste. I let the chicken sit for a few hours to make sure it soaks it all up; anywhere between 2 hours and overnight is fine but I find that 3-4 hours is best. It's long enough for the buttermilk to work its magic but fast enough that I can devour the chicken asap.

I know I called this dish roasted chicken, but I still like to dredge it in flour and sear it in a skillet first. This gives me an extra crispy skin and makes sure there are plenty of drippings to make the gravy. My two favorite parts of this dish are the skin and the gravy, so I think it's worth the extra step. The key to that extra crispy coating is patting the chicken dry after it sits in the marinade. I don't want a breaded and fried chicken thigh (even though those are equally tasty), just one with a thin, crackly coating.

Once the chicken is seared off and in the oven, it's time to make the gravy. I would eat salad all day if it were socially acceptable to use this stuff as salad dressing (can we please make that a thing?). I finally fulfilled a southern rite of passage this summer by figuring out how to make the perfect gravy, and I'm here to tell you all the tricks.

It starts with a roux, a mixture of fat and flour that works as a thickening agent. I use the chicken drippings since they have so much flavor and I already got that pan dirty, and I stir in about 1/4 cup of flour. You have to ballpark basically every ingredient here, but it's fairly forgiving and you'll get the hang of it soon. I try to use approximately the same amount of flour as drippings, and 1/4 cup is usually fairly accurate. I whisk the roux over medium-low heat for a few minutes until it's thick and bubbling, then I gradually whisk in chicken broth until it reaches a good consistency. It's usually around 2 cups, but that depends on how much roux there is, how long you cook it for, and how thick you want it. The key is to add the broth very slowly and whisk it constantly to avoid lumps. At some point--once the gravy is thin enough to permit it--I throw in some fresh herbs for flavor, since everything can always use a little rosemary.

To bring it all together, I top the crisp, juicy chicken with the savory gravy and serve it immediately. I love it over grits or mashed potatoes, but any neutral starch and/or roasted vegetable would go very nicely. Aside from the marinating time, this is ready in under half an hour and requires only a bowl, a skillet, and a baking sheet, making it a perfect weeknight meal for any kitchen, even crappy dorm ones.

8 Chicken Thighs
3 Cups Buttermilk
2 T Season Salt
2 T Garlic Powder
2 T Onion Powder
1 T Paprika
2 tsp Pepper
1 tsp Cayenne
1/2 + 1/4 Cup Flour
2 Cups Chicken Stock
1 Sprig Rosemary
2 Sprigs Thyme
2 T Butter

Trim the fat from the chicken thighs. Whisk the buttermilk, season salt, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, pepper, and cayenne together. Add the chicken, cover, and refrigerate for 3-4 hours.

Season 1/2 cup of flour with additional salt and pepper. Heat some oil in a large skillet. Heat oven to 375F.

Pat the chicken dry and dredge in the flour. Sear the chicken in batches in the hot pan until golden brown on each side; transfer to a baking sheet and roast in the oven until cooked through, about 14-16 minutes.

Meanwhile, add the remaining flour to the chicken drippings on low heat. Whisk constantly until darkened and thick, about 4 minutes. Toss in the rosemary and thyme. Gradually add the chicken stock, whisking constantly, until the gravy coats the back of a spoon. Season with salt and pepper, whisk in the butter, and serve over the chicken.

Serves 4-6