A Big Mistake
Let me just say this: I am NEVER going to decide to make cinnamon rolls at 11 o'clock at night again.
Last week, I had plans to have dinner with my friend Cyanna. Plans fell through, but we agreed to meet at her place for coffee the next morning. That evening I started thinking, "Hm, I really ought to take something for brunch. What do I have handy?" Well, nothing pre-made, that was certain.
After some searching, I found a cinnamon roll recipe that I had all the ingredients for. After reading through the recipe, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, this looks pretty easy, I can do this." I forgot to account for the TIME listed in each step of the recipe.
An hour later found me struggling to mix a very floury dough by hand. Now, I know this is how ALL dough used to be made. But this got me started wondering what on earth possessed me to decide to make dough by hand. When I finally got the dough finished, I learned that it then needed to rise for an hour.
So, another hour passed quietly. I went to poke at the dough, and it didn't SEEM to have doubled, but it WAS getting pretty late. So I preservered, hoping that they would turn out alright. Except, in addition to the absence of an electric mixer in my kitchen, I next discovered that I did not actually own a rolling pin either. After a couple experimental pokes at the dough hoping that I could prod it into a 10 by 14 rectangle by sheer willpower, I decided that I was going to have to get creative if I was going to have anything except a huge cinnamon clod.
I recalled reading in my handy Real Simple tips and tricks magazine that one could use a wax paper covered wine bottle as a makeshift rolling pin. Great! I had wax paper...but no wine. So I grabbed the wax paper, and went in search of a cylindrical object. Hm. None to be found. BUT! I learned that there was only about a foot of waxed paper left. So, I taped the edge of the waxed paper to the roll to keep it from unrolling, and just used the cardboard tube from the package as my rolling pin. It squashed a bit, and certainly wasn't reusable, but it did the job.
After rolling out the dough, I dutifully sprinkled it with brown sugar and cinnamon, rolled it up, and attempted to "seal the seam." What. On. Earth. Let's just say that the seam stubbornly refused to seal. So, I pinched it a lot half out of spite and set about slicing up the cinnamon rolls. I don't honestly know what kind of knife you're supposed to use for this task, so I settled on using the biggest one. "Sliced" my cinnamon rolls, if you can call it that...they looked more smooshed and torn than sliced, and arranged them in a baking pan to rise "overnight," then fell into bed at 2 am after setting the alarm for 8 so that I could mix the glaze and bake the rolls.
I don't think 6 hours is enough time for cinnamon rolls to rise. I baked them, and they obliged me by LOOKING enticing and sticky sweet. However. They were pretty much as hard as rocks. Cyanna and several other friends obligingly ate them and acted very pleased that they had cinnamon rolls to eat for breakfast, but I think they easily could have doubled as hockey pucks. Susan commented that perhaps they were just cinnamon hard rolls, and I had created a new delicacy.
All I have to say on the matter, is that NEXT time I am sticking to the can with the Pillsbury dough boy on it and calling it good.
Last week, I had plans to have dinner with my friend Cyanna. Plans fell through, but we agreed to meet at her place for coffee the next morning. That evening I started thinking, "Hm, I really ought to take something for brunch. What do I have handy?" Well, nothing pre-made, that was certain.
After some searching, I found a cinnamon roll recipe that I had all the ingredients for. After reading through the recipe, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, this looks pretty easy, I can do this." I forgot to account for the TIME listed in each step of the recipe.
An hour later found me struggling to mix a very floury dough by hand. Now, I know this is how ALL dough used to be made. But this got me started wondering what on earth possessed me to decide to make dough by hand. When I finally got the dough finished, I learned that it then needed to rise for an hour.
So, another hour passed quietly. I went to poke at the dough, and it didn't SEEM to have doubled, but it WAS getting pretty late. So I preservered, hoping that they would turn out alright. Except, in addition to the absence of an electric mixer in my kitchen, I next discovered that I did not actually own a rolling pin either. After a couple experimental pokes at the dough hoping that I could prod it into a 10 by 14 rectangle by sheer willpower, I decided that I was going to have to get creative if I was going to have anything except a huge cinnamon clod.
I recalled reading in my handy Real Simple tips and tricks magazine that one could use a wax paper covered wine bottle as a makeshift rolling pin. Great! I had wax paper...but no wine. So I grabbed the wax paper, and went in search of a cylindrical object. Hm. None to be found. BUT! I learned that there was only about a foot of waxed paper left. So, I taped the edge of the waxed paper to the roll to keep it from unrolling, and just used the cardboard tube from the package as my rolling pin. It squashed a bit, and certainly wasn't reusable, but it did the job.
After rolling out the dough, I dutifully sprinkled it with brown sugar and cinnamon, rolled it up, and attempted to "seal the seam." What. On. Earth. Let's just say that the seam stubbornly refused to seal. So, I pinched it a lot half out of spite and set about slicing up the cinnamon rolls. I don't honestly know what kind of knife you're supposed to use for this task, so I settled on using the biggest one. "Sliced" my cinnamon rolls, if you can call it that...they looked more smooshed and torn than sliced, and arranged them in a baking pan to rise "overnight," then fell into bed at 2 am after setting the alarm for 8 so that I could mix the glaze and bake the rolls.
I don't think 6 hours is enough time for cinnamon rolls to rise. I baked them, and they obliged me by LOOKING enticing and sticky sweet. However. They were pretty much as hard as rocks. Cyanna and several other friends obligingly ate them and acted very pleased that they had cinnamon rolls to eat for breakfast, but I think they easily could have doubled as hockey pucks. Susan commented that perhaps they were just cinnamon hard rolls, and I had created a new delicacy.
All I have to say on the matter, is that NEXT time I am sticking to the can with the Pillsbury dough boy on it and calling it good.
posted by Liz at 12:43 PM
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