Turkish Coffee Buns

Try Caleb’s twist — see what we did there? — on glazed cinnamon cardamom buns, where he activates the yeast in coffee instead of milk. (Believe it or not, it works!)

These delectable treats look almost too good to eat!

I recently had some amazing Turkish coffee buns at Lula Cafe in Chicago’s Logan Square neighborhood, and ever since I had been wondering if I could activate yeast in coffee instead of water or milk. So I tried it!

I made my own version of the buns and I’m quite proud of the bake. –Caleb

Servings: 8

Active Time:  1 hour, 10 minutes

Total Time: 5 hours, 20 minutes, plus an overnight proof

Brew up some coffee…

…cuz you’ll be activating the yeast in it!

INGREDIENTS

Dough

• 1 cup freshly brewed coffee

• 1 teaspoon honey

• 1 tablespoon active dry yeast

• 1 egg

• 1 egg yolk

• 3½ cups bread flour (all-purpose is fine, too)

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• 1½ teaspoon ground cardamom (from about 3 teaspoons of pods)

• 1 teaspoon fine kosher salt

• 6 tablespoons room-temperature unsalted butter, plus more for bowl

You’ve got to proof the dough overnight — and this is a step you can’t skip!

Roll out the dough before the twists and turns take place.

Filling and Assembly

• 6 tablespoons room-temperature unsalted butter 

• 2 tablespoons instant coffee or espresso powder

• 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

• 1½ cups (packed) brown sugar, divided

• all-purpose flour (for surface)
  

PREPARATION

Dough

Brew fresh coffee, and allow it to cool until lukewarm, ideally 110ºF-115ºF—any hotter and you’ll kill the yeast.

Pour the coffee into the large bowl of a stand mixer. Whisk in the honey and yeast, and let it sit for 10-15 minutes until there’s a layer of foam on the surface. This means the yeast is active.

Add the egg, egg yolk, flour, granulated sugar, cardamom and salt to the yeast mixture and mix with the dough hook on low speed until well combined. 

Increase the speed to medium and continue to mix until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. 

Gradually add butter, 1 tablespoon at a time. When you’ve added 6 tablespoons, mix until the dough is smooth, supple and shiny for 10-15 minutes to develop the gluten.

Transfer the dough to a large buttered bowl, cover with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel, and let it sit at room temperature until doubled in size, 1-1 ½ hours. 

Punch the dough down, cover the bowl tightly in plastic wrap and chill overnight. This is an important step: Don’t skip it. The slow proof creates more flavor because it gives the yeast more time to process the sugar.

Knotty, knotty: You might need to watch a tutorial on how to get your buns looking so good.

Filling and Assembly

Mix the butter, cinnamon and 1/2 cup brown sugar in a medium bowl until combined.

Work quickly and keep the dough as chilled as possible to make rolling more manageable. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured piece of parchment paper and roll to a ¼-inch-thick rectangle, about 16 inches by 12 inches. Cover with plastic and chill until the dough is firm, 30-60 minutes.

Spread the butter mixture over two-thirds of the dough. Fold the plain side over the middle, then fold the opposite third over (like folding an envelope). Roll to a 12-inch-by-8-inch rectangle about ½-inch thick. Slice lengthwise into eight 1-inch-thick strips.

Working one at a time, lay each strip on a clean work surface with the long side facing you. Using your palms, gently twist each end in opposite directions until the entire strip is spiraled. Hold one end of the strip between your thumb and index finger. Working away from you, tightly wrap the strip around three fingers. Wrap it around your fingers again, placing the second loop closer to the palm of your hand. As you bring the strip across the back of your hand, cross over the first loop, angling toward the end of your index finger. Cross the dough over the front of your hand and tuck the end into the center while removing your fingers and pushing through to the other side to create a knot. 

If all of that seems a bit much, Epicurious has kindly offered up step shots. Whatever shape you make, just be sure the knots are tight.

Divide the twists between two rimmed baking sheets, spacing them evenly apart. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let them sit at room temperature until they’ve doubled in size, 45-60 minutes.

Place the racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven.

Preheat to 325°F. 

Bake the coffee buns, rotating pans from top to bottom and front to back halfway through, until they’re deeply golden brown, 25-30 minutes.

Bring the remaining 1 cup brown sugar and ½ cup water to a boil in a small saucepan. Generously brush the syrup over the hot buns. FYI: The glaze recipe makes enough for two or three rounds of brushing. Beware — brushing this many times will make for a sweet and sticky bun. Which, don't get me wrong, is delicious. But if you want less sweet, cut the recipe in half and brush the buns once. 

Syrupy sweetness! Don’t be shy with that glaze.

This take on Turkish coffee buns is one you won’t soon forget.

Note: If you want to make regular cinnamon buns with this recipe, consider the following swaps: 

• Activate the yeast in whole milk instead of coffee.

• Use 1 tablespoon of Chinese five-spice powder and 2 tablespoons of cinnamon (skipping the instant coffee or espresso powder).

Dig in!

Travel Karma

Some trips are blessed, some cursed.

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We are all connected, as this detail from a Jain temple in Rajasthan, India shows

My son’s friend went off a cliff on a defective scooter on the Greek island of Poros. He had to be flown to Athens on the orders of the local doctor whose limited English had him explain, “I can see his mind.” In other words, a big gash in the head.

My rented jeep was confiscated when the owner saw a wrecked scooter in the back. My son’s scooter was confiscated when he rode through town during siesta looking for help. Bad travel karma.

“We all put one foot slowly behind the other, except for a newlywed groom who turned and ran, knocking his bride to the ground without ever breaking stride. They did not speak for the rest of the trip.”

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RELATED: The Worst Chauffeur in India

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My two friends and I met Ahmed on the train in Morocco from Rabat to Fès. Ahmed was middle-aged, skinny, snaggle-toothed — too much sugar in the mint tea — and extremely talkative. He was a nice man and we had three hours to kill. We heard about his nine siblings and his extended family of 45, who prevent him from selling his father’s riad since he can’t get everyone to sign the papers. Ahmed worked for the leather cooperative.

He wasn’t pushy but he gave us his number. When we called, he sent Abdul, who guided us to the tannery and gave us a tour of the medina, two hours, more than five miles, much of it uphill. He led us through the rat’s maze of streets and the crush of people and didn’t seem to mind that, although we bought leather, we didn’t buy anything else. A nice guy showing people his hometown. Good travel karma.

Bad travel karma can haunt you for years.

We were told by the guide in Zimbabwe that if charged by a lion, we must not run and we must not panic. We set off on foot through Matusadona on Lake Kariba. A female lion crossed the dry riverbed we were walking down. We stopped. She disappeared into the bush. We went on. She charged when we came even with her and her two cubs.

A charging lion makes a noise that shakes the earth, a growl that starts in the soles of your feet and travels to the back of your neck like a lightning striking. We all froze. The guide raised his gun but did not cock it. We stared at her. She stared at us. The guide whispered, “Back up.” We all put one foot slowly behind the other, except for a newlywed groom who turned and ran, knocking his bride to the ground without ever breaking stride. The guide scooped her up with one hand while still aiming at the lioness. The bride and groom did not speak for the rest of the trip. Bad travel karma is a bad start to a marriage.

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RELATED: Getting From Málaga to Morocco Is a Total Pain in the Ass

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Good travel karma can be accrued.

In Turkey, Egypt and Morocco, taxis are often shared. You give the driver your destination, but if there’s room, he may stop and pick up somebody else. Sometimes even if there’s not room. Cabs never use their meters and never have change. Pay it forward. How much for the lady in the front seat with the two gallons of olive oil?

A little global goodwill goes a long way, and you may earn so much good travel karma that your Airbnb host serves a lunch of tagine with fresh sardines and warm bread.

How to Accrue Good Travel Karma

• Don’t give money to beggar children; give pencils.
• Always give away leftovers.
• Pack used clothes to trade at street markets in sub-Saharan Africa. They can be worn or sold. Used jeans, and you’re royalty for a day.
• Pose for pictures with people. I am in the family albums of more Indian families than I can count, often with their children in my lap.

Karma goes around and it comes around, the original global energy. –Rebecca

Hammam Spa Treatments

In which our correspondent bravely tests Turkish steam baths around the world to let you know exactly what to expect from a hammam and which are her favorites.

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Turkish-style baths, or hammams, aren’t quite like this anymore

I was a bit nervous at first. Rebecca, one of the founders of the company I work for, called me into her office. As I took my seat, I saw a blurry photo of Rebecca with a massive smile on her face and asked where it was taken. Turns out it was on an African safari as she was jostled along in the back of an open vehicle. It was one of those exuberant moments you experience while traveling that bring you joy every time you recollect it.

Once I realized we shared a passion for travel, the conversation (and those that followed) came quickly and easily.

“Except for my submission to heat, steam, merciless scrubbing and pelting cold showers, the world would never know where to obtain the cleanest, most open pores. In other words, it would be a smaller, grubbier place.”

Having just returned from a trip to Morocco, Rebecca was kind enough to write up a couple of travel essays for us. The poor dear has suffered through numerous pamperings (and intense scrub-downs) on multiple continents to educate you on what exactly to expect from a hammam experience — and to tell you her favorites.  –Wally

Hammam Me

I have been to hammams in five countries. My patronage of sybaritic Turkish steam baths is not for my own enjoyment nor my need for yet more relaxation on a relaxing vacation. I once let a small, brown-skinned woman lash me with a sheaf of wet herbs while we squatted inside a pizza oven — and I paid her to do it.

I do this as a public service. Consider it my gift to humanity. Except for my submission to heat, steam, merciless scrubbing and pelting cold showers, the world would never know where to obtain the cleanest, most open pores. In other words, it would be a smaller, grubbier place.

A hammam, if you’ve never been in one, is a structure built of stone. Some are palatial — marble-lined rooms, floors, ceilings and walls — some are humble like the mud-brick pizza oven. There is a steamy heat source, maybe jets embedded in the ceiling, maybe water poured over hot bricks. You lie, naked (or with “disposable” underpants, which is as good as naked), on some stone surface which is itself warm, then hot. You close your eyes, at least in part to keep the sweat from running in them, and you wait. Maybe you doze.

Eventually, when your pores are at their most receptive, an attendant enters. (There are hammams that break the strictly unisex rule but they cater to tourists and are to be avoided just as you should avoid restaurants with pictures of the food instead of words on the menu.) The attendant has a loofah and sometimes a sponge. Attendants are large, with biceps like prizefighters and that same disapproving expression your mother had while bathing you after a tough day in the sand box. The small, brown-skinned woman was only the exception that proves the rule.

The attendant begins to scrub you with the loofah. It is a pitiless but thoroughly comforting experience. One human being performing an intimate personal service for another — again, bath time, mother and child, often with the requisite tsk-tsking.

The loofah may be followed by the sponge. Now you feel bathed rather than flayed. You skin begins to breathe again, to thank you for the detoxing.

Finally, the attendant rinses you, dipping a bowl into cooler and cooler water and pouring it over every inch of freshly excavated flesh.

That camel trek in the Atlas Mountains? A gritty puddle on the floor. That week of sunblock mixed with bug spray and safari dust? Circling the drain in a muddy swirl. All those dead skin cells unexfoliated in years of regular but admittedly perfunctory showers? Pilled up in a truly shameful way all over your body. All of it washed away, leaving nothing but new muffin tops from too much Turkish delight. You are as pink and soft as a newborn, appropriately swaddled in clean, dry towels.

Now comes the best part. The large woman hands you, somewhat literally, to another woman, smaller, lither, more nimble but with hands like a bricklayer’s, without the callouses. Let her knead your muscles but shake her hand at your peril. The massage lasts anywhere from an hour to 90 minutes, according to my research. At some point, she will have to manually turn you over when you have reached the energy level of cooked pasta.

The only possible post-hammam activity is a nap. Try to avoid sucking your thumb and curling into the fetal position.

All I have to say for this exhaustive, entirely altruistic research: You’re welcome.
 

Rebecca’s Hammam Superlatives

Most beautiful hammam: Istanbul, Turkey

Best towels: Cairo, Egypt (Egyptian cotton)

Best soap: Fès, Morocco (black eucalyptus)

Best scrub: Agadir, Morocco (stern Berber woman)

Best sponges: Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt (harvested just offshore)

Best aromatherapy: Oaxaca, Mexico (herbs from the garden)

Best massage: Oaxaca

Close second: Siem Reap, Cambodia (not strictly speaking a hammam, but the whole country is so humid, you can get the effect anytime you’re outside)

Most confusing: Pizza oven