Right motherfuckers, post time.
As we all know, the last weekend of the month means something foreign, and after last months disastrous Pumpkin Pissing Pie…fuck, I thought I’d redeem myself and attempt another yank recipe. However, cinnamon rolls/buns/swirls apparently originate from either Sweden or Denmark, so you can’t accuse me of not being diverse enough.
The first fucking issue I ran into with this bake was finding the fucking yeast. The Sainsbury’s in my town honestly carries jackshit, so I had to drive to a neighbouring town and search through Aldi of all bloody places. Eventually I found some, paid what I considered an extortionate amount of money for something purchased at Aldi, and drove home to actually begin this friggin process.
I warmed the milk and dissolved the yeast in it, and set it aside for 5mins whilst I mixed the butter, sugar, salt, flour, and eggs together. This was not fucking easy. I am yet to acquire a stand alone mixer with a dough hook attachment, so I fucked my whisks up trying to blend it before giving up and resorting to mashing it together with my hands. Despite destroying my nails doing this, I did end up with a decent looking ball of dough. I dumped it into an oiled bowl, covered it, and threw it into our utility room where the tumble dryer was on (hence a nice warm atmosphere) for it to rise.
After an hour, I returned to discover….it had barely increased in size at all. I left it another half an hour before giving up and saying ‘fuck it’ to myself. I hooked the fucking thing out of the bowl, slapped it down onto my floured surface, and rolled it with the dexterity of Snoop Dogg rolling a spliff into the nearest shape to a fucking rectangle I possibly could. I felt it wasn’t a bad attempt.
I combined all the ingredients needed for the filling (cinammon, sugar, and butter) and spread it across the…shape…of dough. I then rolled the fucker up, leading on the long edge. I had a fucked up log of dough, which I proceeded to cut into discs. Fucked up discs. This bake wasn’t really going my way but I am no fucking dough expert so I wasn’t shocked. I placed the discs into my baking tray (which was far too big) and let them rise for another hour or so.
Finally, like 3 fucking hours into this process, shit was ready to get cooking. I preheated the Fucking Incinerator™, but this time round I threw caution to the fucking wind and stuck it on the temperature that the recipe asked for, rather than 10-20 degrees cooler to prevent my bakes turning into charcoal.
I threw in the tray, which now contained large, fluffy pucks of dough, and prayed. (lol did I fuck, at this point I put my earphones in and pretend like nothing is burning)
I did check on the buns early, and they were indeed a lot cunting browning than I’d have liked. Whatever. I stirred up the glaze, which took no time at all, and dumped the shit on top. It certainly didn’t seem like enough glaze, but I’m past caring.
I had the common fucking sense to start this recipe whilst Jo’s dough was proofing, so I washed out all my utensils and tried to dig out my whisks from the 4 inches of dough they were caked in.
This was all very much the same shit, however I had to dissolve the yeast in water rather than milk. I blitzed all the other ingredients together. Having learnt from my previous mistake of trying to whisk the dough, this time I opted to stick my hands in there and have a good feel around. I kneaded the dough into something that looked akin to what Paul ‘Bastard’ Hollywood might produce. Same bollocks, different recipe – let it rise for an hour, then roll it into a ‘rectangle’. I made a much better attempt this time, and rolled it into a much larger shape- it was certainly of a more consistent thickness all over. I brushed the melted butter over it and sprinkled on the cinnamon and sugar. I fucking loaded that shit on, I’d snort cinnamon if I could. I rolled it into a log in the same fashion, this time it looked far more uniformed and much longer, which is always a bonus. I sliced this log and arranged the slices into another baking tray (again, it seemed far too big, but I only have a limited supply of equipment at my disposal). I left these discs to rise in a warm place, and in the meantime I cracked open a bottle of
vodka rosé and indulged myself in several one glass. Upon returning to the tray of baked goods, I was actually pleasantly surprised to see that shit had puffed up nicely.
I threw the fuckers into the oven and stumbled back into my boudoir where I continued to drown my fucking sorrows. I checked on the twats early and saw they were of perfect colour, and
vomited out of excitement 🙂
I whisked up the glaze for these buns and poured it all over, fucking pearl necklaced that shit. I was proper happy and the result of these buns compared with Jo’s. I served two warm rolls up to taste tester Lee.
The first obvious difference between the two of these rolls is the way they look. Jo’s are big, brown, and flat; whereas Paula’s are golden and uniformed in shape.
I felt like Jo’s did taste more cinnamon-y, however they were more crunchy than they were soft. Lee agreed with me that Paula’s were certainly more moist and less strong in flavour, but still nice. Overall, his favourite was Jo’s, whereas mine was Paula’s. At the end of the day, both fucking rolls were decent and I would happily demolish a whole batch when pissed (which is certaioenl;y note what I’vee done thiss evening)
- Difficulty: 6/10 – making the dough is the hardest part
- Presentation: 4/10 – imagine a deflated, fake tanned tit and that’s what they looked like
- Taste: 7/10 – not bad, if they were less singed I imagine they’d be better
- Difficulty: 6/10 – same issues
- Presentation: 10/10 – quite frankly, these were the fucking bomb
- Taste: 9/10 – could have had a stronger cinnamon taste
The Final Word