Cinnamon Rolls
As a celebration of the fallishness that is all around this time of year, I thought I'd make a batch of my mom's cinnamon rolls. Last night I fished out the recipe from my binder of random stuff-- this is where I keep all of the really good dishes my friends have given me recipes for, family food secrets, and really yummy looking things from Cook's Illustrated and the ilk. Although I know where most things are located in this binder, there is no real order to how things are placed. Adam once looked for a recipe that I have of his mom's in this binder and gave up looking, opting to just call Vicki and get it again.
About the family recipes: (1) my mom's hand writing is sometimes cryptic, (2) the measurments for things like teaspoons and table spoons (t. or T.) are hard to differentiate, and (3) there are absolutly no, NO, directions on how to do things. I have included the copy of the cinnamon roll recipe to illustrate this situation.
So I did what any one would do, I called my sister-- who has made the cinnamon rolls with success many times, and asked her for help. She told me that mom said, "It's really a recipe that you have to feel your way through." What the heck? I was a baker for two years and I know that the idea of feeling your way through a bread is malarkey! Cooking, sure, you can feel your way through how much salt to add to a sauce, or how much cheese to add to a lasagna. Baking, as Alton Brown will agree, is a science and some things need to happen for a bread to turn out.
After talking to Ariel about this screwy recipe, I got my act together this morning and went to work. The first thing that I needed to do was get the yeast to "bloom". Some 115 degree water, sugar, and two packages of yeast latter I had what amounted to what I hoped was a good bloom. I have not made a yeast bread for... maybe 6 years... so I was hoping and wishing at this point.
To this mix, I added the egg and salt, and then got to work adding the 10 cups of flower one at a time. Today I could not get all 10 cups into the dough. I think I got about 8.5 cups into the mix before the weird crumble set in while I was kneading the dough. The only thing that prevented me from panicking at this point was that Ariel had said, according to mom, that some times it takes 8 cups of flower and some times it takes 12 cups of flower. I guess this depends on the humidity and the relationship to sea level.
Then I spent a good 120 minutes kneading the dough. If you have never kneaded bread dough before, you'll need to understand that this is a tiring activity. In addition to it taking a bunch of energy, my apartment kitchen counter is poorly supported. Normally, I don't notice this shotty construction, but each time I pushed down on the dough, the counter bowed and squeaked something terrible on the door to the dishwasher.
When Adam and I finally get a house, I want my primary working counter top away from the top of the appliances!
After all of the kneading, the dough is placed in a stainless steel bowl (because it works better than ceramic or glass) to rise. 2 hours later, when the dough has doubled in size, I punched it down. Another two hours later, I punched it down again. This time it I got to roll out the dough, slather it with butter (my favorite condiment in the world), cinnamon, and brown sugar, roll it up, and cut it to size. The resulting pinwheels made me happy. Not only did I know the yeast was at work (evidenced by rising twice), but I also was hopeful that the finished product would not resemble a brick.
An hour and a half after placing the pinwheels to rise, (after texting Miah to check-- I'm told he is the expert on this) they went in the oven. I wonder if there is any better smell than baking on a cold day. The house smelled so good! 25 minutes later golden success came from the oven.
I've made some cream cheese frosting to top the rolls, but I really don't think they need it. This venture into family secret recipes was a success. I think that next time I try this one, I need to knead longer and use a bit more sugar. The rolls were not as sticky as I like to have them.
About the family recipes: (1) my mom's hand writing is sometimes cryptic, (2) the measurments for things like teaspoons and table spoons (t. or T.) are hard to differentiate, and (3) there are absolutly no, NO, directions on how to do things. I have included the copy of the cinnamon roll recipe to illustrate this situation.
So I did what any one would do, I called my sister-- who has made the cinnamon rolls with success many times, and asked her for help. She told me that mom said, "It's really a recipe that you have to feel your way through." What the heck? I was a baker for two years and I know that the idea of feeling your way through a bread is malarkey! Cooking, sure, you can feel your way through how much salt to add to a sauce, or how much cheese to add to a lasagna. Baking, as Alton Brown will agree, is a science and some things need to happen for a bread to turn out.
After talking to Ariel about this screwy recipe, I got my act together this morning and went to work. The first thing that I needed to do was get the yeast to "bloom". Some 115 degree water, sugar, and two packages of yeast latter I had what amounted to what I hoped was a good bloom. I have not made a yeast bread for... maybe 6 years... so I was hoping and wishing at this point.
To this mix, I added the egg and salt, and then got to work adding the 10 cups of flower one at a time. Today I could not get all 10 cups into the dough. I think I got about 8.5 cups into the mix before the weird crumble set in while I was kneading the dough. The only thing that prevented me from panicking at this point was that Ariel had said, according to mom, that some times it takes 8 cups of flower and some times it takes 12 cups of flower. I guess this depends on the humidity and the relationship to sea level.
Then I spent a good 120 minutes kneading the dough. If you have never kneaded bread dough before, you'll need to understand that this is a tiring activity. In addition to it taking a bunch of energy, my apartment kitchen counter is poorly supported. Normally, I don't notice this shotty construction, but each time I pushed down on the dough, the counter bowed and squeaked something terrible on the door to the dishwasher.
When Adam and I finally get a house, I want my primary working counter top away from the top of the appliances!
After all of the kneading, the dough is placed in a stainless steel bowl (because it works better than ceramic or glass) to rise. 2 hours later, when the dough has doubled in size, I punched it down. Another two hours later, I punched it down again. This time it I got to roll out the dough, slather it with butter (my favorite condiment in the world), cinnamon, and brown sugar, roll it up, and cut it to size. The resulting pinwheels made me happy. Not only did I know the yeast was at work (evidenced by rising twice), but I also was hopeful that the finished product would not resemble a brick.
An hour and a half after placing the pinwheels to rise, (after texting Miah to check-- I'm told he is the expert on this) they went in the oven. I wonder if there is any better smell than baking on a cold day. The house smelled so good! 25 minutes later golden success came from the oven.
I've made some cream cheese frosting to top the rolls, but I really don't think they need it. This venture into family secret recipes was a success. I think that next time I try this one, I need to knead longer and use a bit more sugar. The rolls were not as sticky as I like to have them.
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