Cinnamon Rolls

It's Thanksgiving. You know, that time of giving thanks (isn't that a terrible way to define a term? Makes the inner grammar/spelling nazi in me shudder) and appreciating what you have. And you know what? I'm failing. I'm jealous. Of my father. I know I've talked about baking with my mom growing up, but not as much about learning to cook thanks to my dad. While my mom had me kneading bread, rolling pie crust, and mixing up banana bread, my dad was all about the savory foods. I learned knife skills (and inherited his love of using large knives all the time) and the difference between chopping, dicing and mincing. Growing up, I had specific roles in the kitchen too - for some reason, dad never knew when pasta was ready (riiiiight). It was required that I, the resident pasta lover, be the official pasta taste tester. Mashed potatoes? Again, it was like he didn't know when they were seasoned correctly - he'd whip out a spoon and ask me - more salt? pepper? butter? cream? I enjoyed it, to the hilt.

My sister had her parts too, so dinner time was always a collaborative effort. As we grew older, our roles changed from chopping and taste testing to developing menus, playing with flavors, and trying out new dishes on each other. Thanksgiving and Christmas were our premier playgrounds - we never made the same thing twice (except for mashed potatoes - I require them). One year there was a jalapeno cornbread stuffing, the next we had squash quesadillas as appetizers, and the next incorporated tiny tomato-goat cheese tartlets with a cornmeal tart crust. Some years it was turkey, others lamb, and last year we attempted prime rib (success!). So it made complete sense that when I talked to my dad the day before Thanksgiving, he confessed that having family friends helping him prep dinner made him feel like he was cheating on my sister and me.


This year, we'll be far-flung, this family of mine. My parents have five others coming over for dinner, which involves leg of lamb with rosemary, zucchini carpaccio, a spiced-up corn casserole, and lots of pie. I have two friends from my research group coming over, neither of whom have experienced Thanksgiving, so we're going traditional - roast chicken (since there are only four of us), mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. My sister? Well, we've been playing phone tag lately, so I can only speculate - she tends to be the most adventurous person in our family when it comes to combining flavors, so it's bound to be interesting and tasty. She's my go-to when I have a set of random ingredients that I need to do something with - she can always come up with something unique that turns out surprisingly well.

For all of the cooking expertise of my dad and my sister though, the world of baked goods, yeasted and otherwise, belongs to my mom and I. We're the pie makers, the bread kneaders. I have to bite my tongue whenever my dad makes a tart - he's suspicious of tart and pie crusts and will chill his marble board and rolling pin before using them. Then it's as if he thinks the crust will jump off the board and bite him - he carefully rolls it out, carefully places it in the pan, and gingerly fills it before tip-toeing it off to the oven. As for bread dough, I don't think I've ever seen him handle it, but I can just imagine. Which is why it's sort of sad we won't all be together this Thanksgiving - I would love to whip up some cinnamon rolls for all of them. In lieu of that, I'll be spending the day in the kitchen, as a (very active) thank you to my parents, who taught me to cook, to bake, and to appreciate good food with good friends. What more can you ask for?


Cinnamon Rolls
adapted from The Pioneer Woman Cooks

1 cup milk
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp instant or quick-rise yeast
2 cups flour, plus an additional 1/4 cup
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup brown sugar
generous amounts of cinnamon
1/2 lb powdered sugar
2-3 Tbsp milk
1-2 Tbsp butter, melted and cooled

Combine the milk, butter, and sugar in a pan and heat on the stove, just to boiling (this is called scalding and denatures the proteins in the milk, I believe to help with rising). Take off the heat, and when it is cooled to lukewarm (if it feels comfortably warm on your wrist, you're there), add the yeast. Mix in the two cups of flour and let it rise, covered, for at least an hour. After an hour, add the extra 1/4 cup of flour, the baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix together well, then cover and place in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours - I let mine go for a couple of days (life got in the way!) and the world didn't end.

When ready to prepare the rolls, take the dough out. Roll it into a rectangle on a generously floured countertop - I rolled it to a bit less than 1/4" thick. Spread the brown sugar on, followed by the cinnamon. I didn't measure the cinnamon, I just went for a good heavy sprinkling all over because I love cinnamon. Roll up the dough, keeping it relatively tight as you go, and pinch the end to seal it to the rest of the roll. Cut the rolls approximately 3/4" to one inch thick and place in a pan, leaving enough room for them to rise out as well as up. Let them rise for 45 minutes to an hour, preheating the oven to 375*F in the meantime. Bake the rolls for 15 to 18 minutes, or until golden brown.

While they're still hot, stir together the glaze of powdered sugar, milk, and butter. Adjust sugar or milk quantities until you have a pourable glaze. Pour over the rolls while they're still warm, and eat immediately.