My small ones have been ridiculously sick for the past two weeks. Kellan has missed 4 days of school which when you are in kindergarten, is like missing a whole month. I made him recite the alphabet for me just to make sure he hasn’t backslid during his convalescence 😉
Anyway, being trapped indoors is hell for me. It actually ensures that I will forever remain a law-abiding citizen because I would never survive prison. 24/7 in a 6’x6′ cell? I’d perish within days from my own insanity. To preserve my mental state during this Dickensian time of suffering I’ve had to keep myself occupied in projects that can’t be derailed and/or devastated by constant interruptions or insistent assistance. Usually that means baking.
Lately I have been on a sweet roll kick. A friend from the gym (ironically) and I have been engaged in the pursuit of the perfect sweet roll and have subsequently been baking and swapping on a somewhat weekly basis. I’m telling you, this winter better end soon before I develop diabetes, gain 20 pounds, or both.
Every Christmas I make The Pioneer Woman’s cinnamon rolls and give them as gifts to friends and neighbors. Or at least that’s what I thought was happening. Here’s what I found last week while searching for some spray paint in the garage:
Yes, that would indeed be the result of my labors in the kitchen. A batch of sweet rolls that I had given my husband to deliver to someone for Christmas…in December…set neatly on top of a box of painting supplies and wedged between a baseball mitt and some plaster of Paris. So, if you didn’t get your expected gift of baked goods this year, this is why. Sorry. (This is what makes it hard for me to believe that the Three Wise Men were indeed men, because seriously – you know their wives probably had to remind them a thousand times, “DON’T forget to take that frankencense to Jesus!” and even then it’s surprising that all three actually remembered the stuff.) But I digress….
The one drawback to making sweet rolls is the dough-making process. The raising and kneading and raising again – it’s hard for an impatient person like myself. Plus there’s the whole business of rolling the dough tightly enough to ensure that your filling doesn’t fall out, not to mention I always end up with an odd number of rolls which leaves me with one pan that’s overcrowded or under-filled. I know, first-world problems.
I came across these babies during a random Google search and immediately recognized that they A) sounded DELICIOUS and B) required significantly less construction. I made them the second the recipe came off the printer.
photo credit: The Irish Mother
If you are looking for a change of pace for breakfast or want to wow your friends and neighbors at your next event or potluck, these are your Golden Ticket. Golden. That is, if they last long enough for you to actually pass them around.
My girlfriend took my advice, made them, then showed up at the gym with samples. Direct quotes from the takers included: “Tastes like heaven crying into my mouth,” and “Angels sang when I ate that.” See? Divinity.
Go forth and multiply! (in pounds and inches!)
Click HERE for heaven.