buns in the oven

(that title’s for you, dm)

For about as long as I can remember, Christmas morning in the Mull household involves not just gifts and pajamas, but cinnamon rolls. I LOVE CINNAMON ROLLS. Eating little cakes, drenched in icing, and being able call it “breakfast?” Fantastic.

Last year, my family came out to Chicago so that we all could celebrate the holiday here in the city. It was a memorable visit for a number of reasons, the chief of which was having the chance to welcome them to a place that I’ve come to consider my home. And as any good hostess knows, celebrations and gatherings call for special touches. I decided to make our Christmas morning cinnamon buns from scratch and, instead of drenching them in creamy white frosting, opted for a sticky and sweet caramel pecan glaze.

Christmas mornings have never been the same. So long, rolls from a can!

This recipe is one of my favorites to make. It is super decadent–there is an unapologetically huge amount of sugar and butter involved, which is why these are so so good. It’s great for special occasions; the recipe makes a dozen rolls whose presentation is so nice and tempting that you’ll want to show them off. And while the recipe may seem involved, it really isn’t that difficult–it just takes a little planning and patience. But trust me, each step of this process is worth it! These lovelies are to die for.

lineage

My interest in baking began with a desire for fresh and hearty bread. You know the kind I’m talking about. Beautiful rustic loaves, with perfect crusts and a generous mix of grains to balance out the flavor. It also began with the reality of my economic situation—I was a graduate student living off of her loans, trying to get by on $50 of groceries a month or less. The answer presented itself in the form of a tempting challenge. Why not make it myself? And just like that, I became a BAKER OF BREAD! Keep your expensive fresh bread, Hyde Park Co-op! It’s no match for the delicious loaves I’ll learn to bake for myself! I’ll save money AND learn a new skill. TAKE THAT!

Of course, I had much to learn, and while nothing was a complete flop, some attempts proved more successful (and palatable) than others. Today, my bread making skills have improved, and I’ve become comfortable enough with a few basic recipes to the point where I’ll get fairly reliable results. I am still very much a novice though, and it’s been a regretfully long time since I’ve baked my last loaf. But two important facts remain: 1) for that entire first year, every piece of bread I ate came from a loaf I baked myself and 2) a new passion was born.

These days, my academic interests have shifted towards exploring the concept of lineage. What exactly is at the heart of something passed down through time? What is it that is preserved? Created? What does it mean to meaningfully transmit this special something, tucking it away for safekeeping within the very individuals that make up this genealogy? Perhaps it is not surprising that these thoughts have informed my baking as of late, and have left me more and more compelled to learn the recipes my family treasures. The ones that are so intimately tied up with memories first created long ago, with my sense of identity, and with the connection I have with my family. It is the jam my Grandma Christine canned. The pot pie noodles my Grandma Mull leaves out to dry (where I come from, real pot pie doesn’t involve a pie shell). The chocolate chip cookies my mother makes, which always always always come out perfectly, predictably, fantastically delicious. It’s shoo-fly pie. Pickled red beets. Apple butter. As with so many family recipes, these are the ones that usually aren’t written down. You learn them by watching. And then by doing. And, of course, memorizing.