Cinnmon Magic

At the ripe old age of 40, I am feeling old. No thanks to my 13-year-old son, who is, I’m convinced, the coolest kid on the face of the earth (or real close, anyway).

But apparently the coolness factor doesn’t travel both ways. He takes great (and increasingly frequent) pleasure in pointing out how little I know about what’s really happening in the world of style, music and which 13-year-old girls are attractive.

Optimist that I am, I’m convinced we are going to survive this stage and move into the one where the kid goes back to revering his mom, or at least cutting her a little slack. (Right, Josh?)

The truth is, I have it on good authority (and no, I won’t reveal my source) that I’m considered one of the “cool moms” in my son’s class. This is probably because a lot of his friends feel comfortable confiding in me. Kids, at least boys at this age, consider you safe if you are a good listener and aren’t horrified by what they say. They basically want to be heard and accepted. Some things never change.

A few weeks ago, I had a wonderful morning when the expanding generation gap between my oldest son and me actually disappeared. And the magic bridge that spanned the gap was a tray of cinnamon buns.

It was my son’s best friend Rob’s birthday. Rob is wild about cinnamon buns, and I mean any and all of them, including (yuck!) Burger King cini-minis. I decided that I needed to make cinnamon buns--real cinnamon buns--for Rob’s birthday.

After all, the sweet, yeasty aroma of cinnamon buns is a powerful thing. I’m convinced that world leaders in deadly opposition should be locked up together in a room with a couple of freshly baked cinnamon buns and coffee and maybe a few pictures of their kids before anyone starts talking about sending troops anywhere.

The night before the birthday breakfast I prepared the filling and the dough. I still haven’t bought a mixer after leaving behind my career as a professional baker, and I’m still convinced that less really is more, that I am better off without a mixer in my home kitchen.

I guess it fits with what has become my world view: There are two kinds of people, those who like to finger-paint and those who don’t. Needless to say, I am a life-long lover of finger painting. I love the feeling of paint oozing between my fingers and the feeling of control when the paint itself is right in my hands--without the intrusion of a brush.

The same goes for baking. Getting my hands right into the dough is the surest way for me to be in control of its consistency. And I’ve come to believe that a mixer only diminishes the relationship between me and the wonderful living creation that will eventually grace my table. I think of the lovely-sounding Yiddish expression “golten hinteles,” which means golden hands, when I bake without a mixer. Belief in one’s ability to work the dough with one’s hands and a love of doing it are crucial to success as a baker. Besides, it’s a lot more fun. (Finger-painting haters should, of course, use the mixer.)

With the dough made, I turned to the filling. The first thing you need to know about cinnamon buns and kids is that most kids don’t like raisins or nuts or dried cherries or any other fool thing that might interfere with the unadulterated heaven of the bread and sugar experience. Take it from me, save the clever, original addition for some other recipe or for someone who is not your child or somebody else’s child.

Finally, before going to bed, I had to do some negotiating with my son. Sleep--as many hours as possible--is the holy grail to 13-year-olds. We won’t even discuss the pitiful attempts at breakfast on school days, but weekend breakfast at our house is generally an enormous bowl of cereal wolfed down at an hour that looks an awful lot like lunch time. On this night, after designating the importance of the next day’s birthday event, and with the ceremonial acknowledgment that early rising represented a major sleep sacrifice for my son, we agreed that we would go for a 10 a.m. breakfast.

Needless to say, this meant that I awoke at 6:30 a.m. to roll out the dough and assemble the cinnamon buns. I cut them and placed them in three aluminum pans for a total of 27 buns.

Then I had to figure out a realistic way to get them to rise, considering that the air conditioning was cranked to Arctic blast--this was during September’s horrible heat wave, and it was already 90 degrees outside at 7 a.m. But you don’t spend your entire adult life in the restaurant business without becoming pretty darned resourceful. I decided to crank up the clothes dryer, place the trays on top and heat up my laundry room.

Not a bad idea, if I do say so myself, but it wasn’t working fast enough. So after a while, I opened the dryer, which was really warm by then, laid the pans inside and closed the dryer door. (Yes, the dryer was off.) Success!

By 8:40 a.m. I baked off the cinnamon buns and made the icing. As is typical with many home ovens, I had to rotate the pans around to get the buns evenly baked. I let them cool a bit before frosting them so the icing wouldn’t just run off.

By 9:15 a.m. the cinnamon buns were iced. I covered them and went to wake my son.

Of course, 9:15 a.m. on one of the last precious days of summer vacation was the teenage equivalent of my 6:30 a.m. wake-up call, and I was braced for a crabby kid. I crept quietly up to his bedside and, before he opened his eyes or said a word, I watched him inhale deeply about six times.

And then it happened. A true miracle in the life of the a teenager’s mother . . . a huge smile, eyes wide open and shining, and yes . . . a hug. His first words of the day: “‘Mom, you made them. I can smell them. Thanks!”

That was so good for me that I didn’t even need to sample my wares. Well, maybe one, but you know what I mean. Off we went to take the birthday boy his cinnamon buns. And yes, he still orders cini-minis at Burger King, but now he definitely knows the difference.

Cinnamon Buns

Instead of the one-hour first rise called for in the recipe, the dough can be allowed to make its first rise in the refrigerator overnight. This will save time in the morning if you plan on eating the cinnamon buns for breakfast or brunch. Because the dough will be cold, it will be firmer and easier to work with the next day, but the second rise will take longer, sometimes two or three times longer. Important: The butter should always be very soft.

Bun Dough

Total Preparation Time: About 4 hours 15 minutes * Active Work Time: 1 hour 15 minutes

6 cups flour

1/2 cup sugar

2 teaspoons salt

1 cup buttermilk

1 1/4 cups orange juice

3 (1/4-ounce) packeta dry yeast

2 tablespoons honey

1/2 cup (1 stick) salted butter, room temperature

Cinnamon Filling

3 tablespoons corn syrup

1/4 cup ground cinnamon

1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) salted butter, room temperature

6 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon flour

Sugar Icing

2 cups powdered sugar

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1/4 cup water

Assembly

Flour

Butter

Bun Dough

Mix flour, sugar and salt in large mixing bowl, using fork to distribute evenly. Set aside.

Pour buttermilk and orange juice into saucepan and whisk over low heat until lukewarm. Sprinkle yeast over liquid and stir to dissolve.

Pour liquid onto flour in mixing bowl and add honey and butter. Mix and massage everything with both hands until all dry ingredients are absorbed into dough. Dough will be somewhat lumpy and uneven. Place dough on floured board and knead with heel of hand until somewhat smooth and elastic, 10 to 15 minutes. Warning: If dough is completely smooth, it has been overworked.

Place dough in clean, lightly greased bowl. Cover with clean dish cloth and let rise in warm, draft-free area until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Cinnamon Filling

Place corn syrup, cinnamon, butter, sugar and flour in bowl and whisk until well blended. (If you make filling the day before you’re going to bake, do not refrigerate overnight. Cover and leave on counter until needed.)

Sugar Icing

Put sugar, vanilla extract and water in bowl and whisk vigorously until mixture is free of lumps.

Assembly

Flour work surface generously and rolling pin lightly. Divide Bun Dough in 1/2. Roll first 1/2 into rectangle 1/2-inch thick, as evenly as you can. It should be about 10 by 12 inches.

With spatula or clean hands, spread 1/2 of Cinnamon Filling over surface of dough rectangle, stopping 1/2 inch from edge of one long side. Starting from opposite long side, roll dough up, snugly but not so tightly that you push filling out. When rolled completely, pinch 1/2-inch edge that is free of filling onto rest of length of roll to create sturdy seam.

With sharp serrated knife, cut roll crosswise into buns 1 1/2 inches thick, using sawing motion to avoid pressing down on roll. Place buns on baking pan lightly greased with butter 1 to 1 1/2 inches from each other.

Repeat with remaining Dough and Filling.

Cover buns and let rise until puffy and half again as large, about 1 hour. They should spring back from a light touch. About 45 minutes into this second proofing, preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Uncover baking pans and set in oven to bake at 350 degrees until slightly firm and light golden brown, about 15 minutes. Check to see that buns are cooked through to center, but if buns are too brown, they will develop undesirable crust.

Cool until warm to the touch and drizzle with generous amount of Sugar Icing.

16 buns. Each bun: 552 calories; 547 mg sodium; 63 mg cholesterol; 24 grams fat; 91 grams carbohydrates; 6 grams protein; 0.55 gram fiber.

Pressman is the former owner of Old Town Bakery in Pasadena.