My first year in America was full of temptations. Temptations I was aching to yield to.
Food was among them. From the comfort of a monochrome boiled potato I was thrown into the cacophony of multiculturalism. There was a greasy Chinese, a muddy Indian, a tongue-burning Mexican, an understated Japanese, and above all - the real American, the most common of denominators, the reality show star of my junk food hall of fame.
Wandering in a shopping mall, one would surely come across a cinnamon bun. Big, pillowy, smothered in frosting, it would promise a warm embrace, a sweet comfort, a sticky guilty pleasure. Those promises were never fulfilled - instead one was faced with a cold limp of commercial dough, as artificial as the smile of a shop girl . Yet, despite the disappointment, despite the heavy feeling of failed expectations in one's stomach, it was impossible to turn down a cinnamon roll, time after time.
It is not easy to replicate the excess of a 16-year old, high on sugar and freedom, in a moderate Czech environment, weighted by years of baking experience. There's nothing healthy, reasonable or decent in it. It would probably leave you with a bloated stomach and a mouth ulcer, sick with nostalgia for the years when you could stomach five of those for hangover breakfast without any side effects.
Makes 15 large buns.
dough:
250 g milk
115 g butter
125 g sugar
30 g fresh yeast
2 eggs
vanilla
750 g plain AP flour
Filling:
70 g melted butter
200 g light brown sugar
1 tbsp cinammon
1 tsp nutmeg
Frosting:
200 g icing sugar
50 g melted butter
50 g milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
Knead the dough for 10 minutes, leave to double in size for an hour. Roll out, cover in melted butter and sprinkle with spiced sugar. Roll tightly and cut into 15 pieces. Let them raise in a warm place for another 40 minutes, then bake at 190 C for 15 minutes. While still warm, smother in frosting. You can freeze those until your next shopping spree.
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