👏🏾 Finally 👏🏾 done 👏🏾 with 👏🏾weddings 👏🏾 and 👏🏾 I 👏🏾 don’t 👏🏾 know 👏🏾 what 👏🏾 to 👏🏾 do 👏🏾 with 👏🏾 myself 👏🏾
We went to our last wedding of the year a couple weeks ago in Virginia. Did you know that the East Coast actually has seasons and that it’s humid AF during the summer? Cuz this California girl did not. I spent the long weekend trying to keep my hair down only to tie it up within 5.8 seconds of stepping outside, and then forcing people to take photos of us in our wedding ‘fits before we could no longer pass off face sweat for “glossy sheen.” Woof. I don’t know how people live here all the time.
On one damp and sunny morning, we went to brunch at Convivial, a French-ish place in DC that’s recently come up the Eater ranks. The food was delicious, especially their cinnamon roll, which came out warm and gooey on a small plate to share. As we split it among the four of us, I felt a visceral pang where I realized something—I really don’t like sharing pastries.
This feels like a messed up thing to think, especially since my favorite thing to do is eat with friends as we swap entrees and stories. But damn, when a pastry is really good, I just don’t want to split it. I’ll take it calories and all.
I’m back in SF now, sans humidity and sans any more weddings. I have weeknights and ends again and am trying to figure out what to do. I spent the first week getting 8+ hours of sleep a night (very needed). And then as I thought about what to cook next, I remembered the cinnamon roll from DC that we (ugh) shared. And I wanted to do something about that.
So I made a batch of dough with some almond flour for a kick, cut it into strips, and created one single giant cinnamon roll that you have to serve not on a share plate, but on an entree plate. And then to be even more extra, I added brown butter cream cheese icing on top.
This cinnamon roll is rich and giant so I (and you) have to share it. And when you do, a little bit goes a long way. You’ll be so full from a slice that you’ll feel like you never shared anything, which is the vibe I was going for.
And like all cinnamon roll recipes, there’s rising time needed, which makes this perfect for when you have a few hours on your hands, like me as of late. If you have to, you can chill the dough after its second rise, and then warm it in a 100 degree oven for 20 minutes before baking in full.
The last thing to remember is that as much as I complained about humidity, you need a humid environment or else your yeast is not gonna rise. I had some trouble getting the rise in dry-AF San Francisco, so I placed my bowl in a 100 degree oven with a damp towel over it. So I GUESS you could argue that there is utility in humidity, but I’m still team West Coast. I just wanted a cinnamon roll that I didn’t feel bad to share.