On Cinnamon Buns at Dinner Parties

"These are the best cinnamon buns I've ever had" -critics

This past weekend I had some old friends over for dinner. These are friends that I’ve known for years now; we’ve spent countless nights sharing all of the different couches we’ve lived on, we’ve shared houses, stories, meals, joints, drinks and many, many other things. Dinner parties have always been one of the more cherished hangouts that we all partake in. We sit around a table sharing something specially crafted for all of us to line our stomachs before captivating ourselves with games, gossip, dancing, and oversharing. This time it wasn’t me who made dinner, but my closest friend who has shared more couches with me than most, reminding me that I am lucky that we are not those best friends who people think about when they say ‘don’t move in with your best friend’. 

Anyway, I made cinnamon buns. I’m not much of a baker, but like I’ve said so many times on this page, I love the gift of giving (food), so I gave dessert. I wouldn’t have written about it, to be honest, but someone around the table did challenge me to it, provoking me to think seriously about them. 

They started as a challenge for me to soothe the whelm from an incredibly busy and emotional week. It might be pretty simple to some, but for me, baked goods are a lesson in control, precision, and composure. Good thing I didn’t drop the ball this time, I definitely would’ve crumpled. 

These buns took me three hours to make with all the kneading and the rising. But in the oven, just ten minutes. I sat there, watching them for the first five, watching them not rise. I got up, slightly defeated, I did something else, and my alarm went off. For some reason, I sort of felt like it was the end of the world. They didn’t work, I failed. But I opened the oven, it was a sight for sore eyes. I might be overreacting, and I know I’m an emotional person in general, but the vision of these magnificent cinnamon rolls, so golden in their nostalgic scent, I could cry thinking that I had brought something like that into the world. Very melodramatic, I know.

That was their effect on me though, simple pride. Sometimes hard to come by, but not that day. The people arrived, hugs were given, words were exchanged, and we sat down. A fantastic NYT meal of chicken, potatoes, leeks and, what this group of ours likes to call ‘crack salad’, a staple since we all met, was served. Drinks were flowing, dishes were cleared, and a heaping plate of cinnamon buns replaced the flowers in the centre of the table. Prideful contentment, there's no better way to describe it, really. 

The thing is, these cinnamon buns are the best cinnamon buns I have ever had, let alone made. And the best part is that we all shared that sentiment. I watched as heads went back and seconds were served. Regardless of my having made them, we all sort of revelled in the fact that these were a glorious thing. The night went on, probably for too long, games were played, guts were spilled, the best parts of a dinner party came and went and so did the people. But the cinnamon buns were still there. 

They comforted me and my girlfriends through our hangovers and saw the entrance of this season's Christmas tree. They watched movies with us and played a large part in our recurring, though always changing, Sunday debrief.

It is Monday now, and the stragglers on the plate are still there, probably to be gone by tomorrow morning. They saw a weekend amongst best friends and lifted a hand to introduce new scenes and plot into what seems like a handful of already immensely deep lives.

To those who have not had them, they may just be cinnamon buns, but at the very least, they brought joy to a full living room and pride to a girl who had a tough week. And I don’t think that’s exclusive to me or to us. But I also don't think you’d understand that until you made them and shared them with the people you love, too. 

Ingredients 

• Flour 

• Dry yeast 

• Sugar 

• Cinnamon 

• 2 Eggs

• A ton of Butter 

• Brown sugar 

• Maple syrup 

• Vanilla 

• Powdered sugar

• Milk 

Directions

• Mix 1020g of flour, 13g of dry yeast, 200g of sugar, and 2 tbsp of cinnamon in a bowl. Once mixed, add two eggs, 2.5 cups of water (room temperature), and 200g of soft butter. Knead for at least 10-20 minutes. You can mix this using a stand mixer or a hand mixer with a hook attachment, or you can use your hands to really destress. Cover and rise for 1-2 hours. 

• Make the filling. Combine 200 g softened butter. 200g brown sugar, 5 tbsp cinnamon, 2 tsp vanilla, a healthy pour of maple syrup and a bit of salt. Mix well, thin with more maple, if necessary. 

• Once the dough has risen, roll it out on a floured surface and spread the filling all over. Fold in the two sides like a swinging door and roll out a bit more (so now the filling is sandwiched between two layers of dough). 

• Cut the dough into strips, twist them up, and gently roll them into knots. You can see what I mean by the shape in the pictures. 

• Let them rise for another 30 minutes to an hour. 

• Preheat the oven to 225C. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and bake for 10 minutes, until golden. Brush with melted butter once they come out of the oven. 

• Make the glaze: in a bowl, combine a cup or two of powdered sugar, add a healthy dose of melted butter and vanilla and mix with a hand mixer, adding milk until it's drizzlable. 

• Drizzle the glaze over the cinnamon buns, and make sure to share them with your friends.

• Best served warm, but they'll keep for the weekend.