Nothin' Sez Lovin' Like ...

When I was a little kid we'd go see my grandma and grandpa, my Dad's parents.  They lived in a mountain valley where the growing season was pretty short.  Yes, they were farmers but they raised primarily livestock.  Still they raised their own feed.  The growing season was short enough that as a general rule they only got two cuttings off their hay fields.  Occasionally they'd get a third cutting but that was an exceptional year when that would happen.  But one thing that short season meant was that there was more cool weather than warm weather.  Their winters started early, got cold fast, and lasted longer that a lot of places.  And typically there was plenty of snow.  Most people don't think that much of cold weather.  But I always found there were some nice things about it.

One of the things I really liked, and I remember most about my grandparent's home, was coming in from the cold weather.  Their house had an big, enclosed porch at the back door, like so many farm house do.  So you would come in from the cold, onto an unheated porch.  There's you were out of the worst of the cold, but often the air was still crisp and cold.  Just no wind.  So you'd clean the snow off and begin to shed your boots, coat, scarf, gloves, and hat.  I loved that ritual at my grandparents' home.  Not sure I can explain why, I just know I did.

Then you'd come into the kitchen.  The kitchen was always deliciously warm.  Inviting. How could it not be?  Grandma and Grandpa were always there.  Where I grew up, family came to the back door.  Everyone else came to the front door.  We'd come trooping in the back door like we belonged there.  And we did.

My grandma's kitchen was a large rectangle.  The door from the porch was on the west wall.  The south wall was lined with counters, cupboards, and windows.  The north wall was more counters, cupboards, and the sink. In the northwest corner was a doorway into a small room that was essentially a big coat closet.  You walked passed the stairs to the basement to get in there.  In the southeast corner was the dining table, where we'd kneel at our chairs before breakfast every day.  You had to go passed the table to get into the living room.  In the northeast corner was the door to a small room that had the entrance to the stair way up to the second floor.  Or you could go passed the stairway into the house's only bathroom.  In the southwest corner was the best feature in the entire kitchen.  Right in the corner was a large drawer, the bottom drawer.  In that drawer were the the most marvelous goodies any kid could image.  Grandma kept that drawer full of cookies and pastries. I don't remember it ever not having something wonderful in it.  Old fashion cookies made with raisins,  molasses, brown sugar, or other ingredients that I think of as old fashion.  You don't see stuff baked with some of those ingredients any more. There were also breads, and other yummy stuff, stuff that always seemed soft and moist. I don't remember anything ever coming out of that drawer that had gotten hard or stale.  Maybe with so many grand-kids around that was just never an issue, nothing lasted long enough to ever get old and stale. That corner of the kitchen always had a bakery smell to it.  But the best things of all were the cinnamon rolls.  The only down side to that wonderful drawer was that you had to have permission to get into it.  Bummer, man.

Cinnamon rolls are special.  The best of the best.  And grandma's cinnamon rolls were always real good.  I still love a good cinnamon roll.  I don't understand why they aren't everyone's favorite.  But, sadly, that is the situation in the world.  I have also always considered cinnamon rolls to be a little on the hard to make side .  A lot of time consuming work.  But, in the last few years, as I have gotten more adventurous in my cooking, I have been wanting to make cinnamon rolls.  The other thing about cinnamon rolls is that they involve a lot of calories.  Why is it that the best stuff has the most calories?  Maybe its part of the curse.  Maybe in the millennium, when the earth is returned to its paradisaical state, that will no longer be the case. That would certainly be paradisaical. That might even make up for the loss of the mountains.

Anyway, I digress.

I have been collecting cinnamon roll recipes for a while, and waiting for the right situation to come along to tackle making some.  That confluence of happy events came together not too long ago.  On  side note, my granddaughter had wanted to do some baking a while back, while we were there visiting, so I suggested cinnamon rolls and offered one of my recipes.  My granddaughter was excited and all for it.  Her daddy, with whom she wanted to do the baking, was less than enthused but agreeable. So that's what they made.  We learned something important on that occasion - the recipe made a lot of cinnamon rolls.  A LOT of cinnamon rolls.  Like over three dozen.  We all ate way more that we should have and still gave a lot away to friends and neighbors.  That set the stage.  A short time later, where I work, the powers that be decided we needed a treat day to properly celebrate some work anniversaries.  These are like pot-lucks.  Everybody brings in their favorite goodie and everybody shares in the bounty, typically eating too much.  But its a nice way to get rid of something like an abundance of cinnamon rolls if your recipe makes a lot.  So I decided to finally give it a try.  As the day approached, I went back and forth over whether or not I was going to be able to do this.  I had only a vague idea of how long it would take.  And I had never done it before - what if they flopped and weren't edible?  Then I'd have to scramble and come up with something else at the last minute.  If I got them made, how would I transport them to work and get them through the security doors at work without yucking them up?  So many questions.  This was also compounded at the last minute when the Relief Society asked Brombeere to make some stuff for a dinner the ward ladies wanted to have before the women's session of general conference.  Would it work to share the kitchen?  In the end, however, we worked it out and I gave it a stab.

As usual, I got everything I would need out and ready right up front.  Knowing that the recipe made a lot, the plan was to cut the recipe in half.

I have never cooked anything that required yeast before.  Good thing Brombeere was there with some words of counsel and wisdom.  The recipe said to start by mixing the yeast, along with a few other of the ingredients, so that's what I did.

Then I set that aside and went to work on the next step.  That went pretty good, it was enough like some of the other things I've made that I was comfortable with it.

With that step done I still needed to wait on the yeast so I got started with the cinnamon sugar mixture.

That was quick and easy.  My only concern was whether it would be enough, a strong enough flavor.  I personally like my cinnamon rolls with a strong cinnamon flavor.  This looked kind of thin to me but as a typical rule, I stick to a recipe when its the first time I've made it.

Then it was time to check again on the yeast.  The recipe had suggested setting a timer, and I had. Apparently, it was a little more than this particular batch of yeast needed.

Opps.  Had a little bit of clean up.  Yes, I like to keep a clean work area when I cook.  I typically get all the ingredients out at the beginning and put them away as I use them.  And I try to keep the area I'm working in clean.  So, after adding the yeast to the rest of the dough, I had some clean up.  That's okay, though.

It was while mixing all the ingredients in the dough together, including the part where you mix them for ten minutes, that I decided I was really glad we had a good, strong mixer.  Ten minutes would have been a long time to beat that stuff into submission.  I was glad the mixer had a lock to keep it down in the dough.  It got a good workout.

But at last it was done.  Then I just had to let it rise a little while.

After letting it rise I moved the whole operation over to the table where there was a little more space.  Then I spread the dough out into a rectangle and made it all smooth and even.

Then, after painting it with melted butter, I spread the cinnamon and sugar mixture over the dough.

Then I rolled it into a long tube and began cutting it into individual rolls to put on the tray.  As I was finishing, Brombeere, who'd been in the other room during all this, came in and saw I was cutting the tube with a butter knife.  She stopped me and grabbed some dental floss, suggesting I use that to cut it.  That way it would not leave each cinnamon roll all misshapen, from being smashed by the knife.  As it turned out, she showed up with this advise almost too late.  I had only the last few inches of the tube left to cut.  But I tried it with that last little bit and she was right.  It was way easier and left each piece looking lots better.  Live and learn!

So with them all cut and sitting on the tray, they were ready to let rise some more.  So while that was going on I made the icing.  Cinnamon rolls, like good brownies, must be frosted.  Or at least glazed with something yummy.

So I grabbed the stuff I'd need for the frosting and made that up.

I think I have learned the secret to making frosting of the right consistency without ending up with too much.  Once again, I got it to turn out with just right amount, with the right consistency.

By now the cinnamon rolls had risen enough and gone in the oven.  They cooked up well, I managed not to burn them, and had them out on a cooling rack to cool off.  Sometimes cinnamon rolls are frosted while they're still warm.  That's not bad, it lets the frosting melt all over them in a real yummy way.  But I didn't want to do that this time.  I wanted the frosting to stay solid and up on top so they'd travel better.  So I let them cool.

After they'd cooled enough I frosted them and then let them sit a while longer so they could cool some more and let the frosting firm up a little more on them.

Then I covered them with wrap and they were all ready to transport to work for the treat day.  That was a whole 'nother story in itself, getting through the security door with two trays of cinnamon rolls.  With me, the trays, and my brief case, which was a pretty good juggling act in and of itself, I was just too big to fit through the door.  Its a revolving door designed to only allow one person at a time through.  After two failed attempts I finally had to give up and use the cart gate.  But I got them in and the crowd loved them.  No left overs.  Yes, we had tried them at home before I took them in.  We ate the little end ones.  Plus maybe one or two others that just didn't look quite good enough to set out for public consumption.  Odd how there are always a few like that.

So all in all, it turned out pretty good!  I might have to do that again. Maybe try one of the other recipes I have.  Yeah, that's the ticket!