Sunday, August 13


...who's there?
cinnamon who?
cinnamon BUNZOS, broski-mo!!
there isn't much more expert in the morning than an overstuffed,
double-buttery, brown sugary, cinnamony drizzled and sizzled,
caramelized coil of fresh-baked ovenly lovin'.
...and that's no joke.
 thanks to faulty genetics, age, and stress, the days of my long hairs are long gone.
(huh? oh. it makes sense....wait for it.)
when i want to go around rockin' a man bun,
i just put cinnamon in the center of my molto masculine morning routine,
and represent on a more useful and attractive version of the prevailing trend.
y'feel me?
like a cinnamon samurai.
that's probably exactly what i am.
and i'm down to bake up a dozen dope dough spirals,
and let the hypnotic pattern of brown on brown on brown coerce me into
towards untold new levels of shark-gluttonous overindulgence.
no. for realsies, tho.
i want ALLLL the cinnamon jauns.
...and i can HAVE 'em.
check the cast-iron-nest-of-niceness-type teleport:

the parchment/cast-iron scene is a crucial element in the evolution of my buns.
clean-up is just a quick lift-out.
the iron gigantism keeps the crusts tight, and the caramelization at max efficiency.
and what's even better?
these jauns got that little bitty exxxtra-concentrated convection in their section,
so the tops got browner,
the centers stayed softer,
and the cinnamon?
well, to be honest-
that was unaffected by the process, but damn it was still delicious.
you need these in your life,
if you aren't sleeping over, or rising early-shirley to pop on by,
you're going to have to make them yourself.
good news, tho, friends.
i'm going to walk you through it-
preheat your oven to 375℉.
in your counter-top hero, a.k.a. your stand mixer, with the dough hook attached,
3 cups flour;
1 tsp wheat gluten;
1/3 cup sugar;
1 pkg fast fast dried yeast;
1/2+ tsp salt...
give it a low-low spin to sift it all,
and add:
3 T melted plant-based butter;
dissolved in 1 cup non-dairy milk;
with 2 tsp vanilla;
and 2 tsp bread machine yeast-
warmed enough to melt the butts, but cooled enough not to kill the yeast.
like baby bottle temperature-ish.
you know. like with the squirt on your wrist an' that.
knead that from low to high speed for about 8 minutes,
and allow it to rise, covered for 15 more.
while that poppin',
in another 'nother other bowl, smash and mash together:
1/2+ cup dark brown sugar;
1 tsp vanilla;
4-6 T earth balance butter, relative to how soft you want your middles, man.
plus, 2-3 tsp cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, a splash of dried ginger;
and maybe even a little tiny bit more cinnamon.
that is, if you want to really all-out ball-out.
i mean, i did it, but i know what's up-
too much is the right amount,
and weak-A* cinnamen aren't warrior poets, they're doo-doo buttery diaperbabies.
ok. OK.
so, spread the brown onto the beige,
after you've rolled out a rectangle on a well-floured surface.
leave a 1" edge on one long side,
and as you roll up the whole thing like a body in a carpet, or whatever,
tightly, for the ultimate in flavorful explosions throughout,
wet that black end, so the dough ca adhere to itself, and hold shape when it rises and bakes.
you'll now have a log of lusciousness,
but it might be too soft to slice up still.
i always put mine in the freezer for a few,
so that the cinnamon stays put when i squish through with a sharp serrated knife.
yeah, you do.
it's cool, and that's cool, so now, play it cool, and cut your tube in half,
then cut those tubes in half, and then cut those tubes into thirds!
one dozen delights are ready to be arranged on that parchment,
in that pan,
and allowed to blossom and bloom for 15-20 more minutes,
before you bake those brown babies for 25-30, or until they're done to your liking.
and when they've had a chance to cool,
so that the drip-out reservoir of melted sugar starts to stick to the bottom
of each pull-apart piece of heaven....
that's when yo hit 'em with the glaze for days, and get molto craze.
powdered sugar, nondairy milk, vanilla, and a dash of cinnamon are all you need.'ve gotta get some of this.
it'll fix you right up.
cinnamon manly men. that's real.
and those soft, sweet centers, with that crispy flaked-out thick crust?
that's what we're made of.
we really are what we eat.
......and now i'm out of time, again.
i guess we'll catch up tomorrow?
that's a likely story.
until then;
never quiet, never soft.....

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