Tear and Share: Cranberry and Walnut Cinnamon Rolls

In celebration of Cinnamon Roll Day last month, a traybake of delicious spiraling baked chaos was necessary. Considering this was the one and only time I have ever attempted a sweet dough so far, I would say this was a resounding success and one which I was particularly proud of. Despite doubts of adequate proving timing, I assure you that trusting yourself in the development and buoyant elasticity with which the dough obtains requires an acceptably short leap of faith. Albeit slightly monstrous in size, these cinnamon rolls had enough sweetness amid the sea of airy bread to not be overwhelming, and the addition of a tangy orange glaze gives a sprightliness to the syrup-soaked buns. The options of filling is of personal preference, and I chose two contrasting alternatives for a different texture and flavour. Walnuts add a woody depth of flavour while adding a desirable crunch amid the pillowy soft bread, while the use of a dried fruit soaked beforehand gives a softer, supple experience, with the occasioanl burst of succulent sweetness. A hearty breakfast or teatime treat with a cup of tea, with the added pleasure of tearing a bun for yourself and others to share.

Adapted from Patrick Ryan's How to make cinnamon buns

Makes around 30

• 1 kg Strong white flour
• 2 tsp Salt
• 100 g Light brown sugar
• 30 g Instant yeast
• 150 g Butter, softened
• 400 g Milk
• 3 Eggs, plus one yolk for glazing
• Flavourless oil

For the fillings:

• 100 g Dried cranberries
• 100 g Walnuts
• 2 Oranges, zest and juice
• 200 g Light brown sugar
• 4 1/2 tsp Ground cinnamon
• 200 g Butter, softened

For the glaze:

• 100 g Caster sugar

1. Put flour in a large mixing bowl and add salt, sugar and yeast, keeping the latter separate from the other two. Cut the butter into cubes and rub into the flour with your fingers, until no large chunks of butter remain.
   
   
2. Pour in the milk and add two eggs, mixing together with your hands until completely incorporated and mixed, forming a cohesive, soft dough. Turn out onto a clean surface and knead to develop the gluten strands for around 10 min and the dough is elastic and smooth.
   
   
3. Oil a large bowl and place the dough in. Cover with a damp cloth and leave to prove for 90 min.
   
   
4. During this time, combine the dried cranberries with the zest and juice of the oranges and leave to soak. Crush the walnuts with a mortar and pestle, or a ziplock bag and rolling pin/mallet/hard utensil until just smaller than the size of a pea. Set aside for later.
   
   
5. Meanwhile, mix the softened butter reserved for the filling with the sugar and cinnamon until well combined.
   
   
6. Grease two deep baking trays with butter before lining with baking paper. If you only have one tray, you can bake the rolls in batches.
   
   
7. After 90 min, check the dough. It is finished proving when doubled in size. When it is done, tip it out of the bowl and separate into two halves. Take one half and knead for a minute or two to knock out the excess air. Then roll out into a rectangle, to about half a centimetre thick and 30 cm long.
   
   
8. Spread the cinnamon butter onto the rectangle dough, all the way to the edges. Drain the cranberries and reserve the juice, squeezing excess juice out, before sprinkling evenly on top of the cinnamon butter spread.
   
   
9. Starting with the long side of the rectangle, begin rolling up the dough tightly into a log shape. Then begin cutting the dough into slices approximately every 5 cm. Place these side by side into the baking tray, spiral of filling facing up.
   
   
10. Repeat this process with the other half of the dough, sprinkling the crushed walnuts before rolling up and slicing.
    
    
11. Cover the trays with a damp cloth and leave to prove and rise for 45 min.
    
    
12. When almost ready to bake, preheat the oven to 200 °C/400 °F/Gas mark 6.
    
    
13. When the rolls have risen and feel bouncy when touched, beat the remaining egg and yolk together and brush on top of the rolls.
    
    
14. Bake the buns for 10 min, before lowering the temperature to 180 °C/350 °F/Gas mark 4 for a further 20 min. Rotate the tray if the buns further inside/outside are browning more quickly, and if baking more than one tray at the same time, switch trays if one is browning more than the other.
    
    
15. During the baking, pour the reserved orange juice from the cranberries into a pan with the caster sugar to make the glaze. Gently heat, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Then bring to the boil for 5 min and set aside.
    
    
16. When the rolls are finished, remove from the oven and brush with the orange glaze until all of it is used up. Transfer onto a wire rack to cool by lifting the baking paper.

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When someone bakes, it's special. Baking is inherently unique and different from cooking on a day to day basis. The latter is a requirement for sustenance, but baking is more than just a need to do so. It's a conscious decision to take the time out in the day, set aside minutes to hours of our life to create something unrequired with the pure aim for personal achievement but most of all, the joy we wish to share with others. In baking, it's a slow long prove analogous to dough, where we feed our love and desire for happiness in the world into a simple mix of ingredients. And then we give this love away, metamorphosed from the ethereal pool of emotions into a solid, physical representation, with the hope that it fills people with joy in one of the basic ways possible; eating. We give our love in baked form, we take from this the happiness and enjoyment it brings.

"I'm just a cinnamon roll, standing in front of an eater, asking them to love the baker."

Every relationship we have in our lives, every soul we touch is themed by an underlying transaction; a give and take. We can elucidate any interaction we have in society as an oblivious sharing of thoughts, stories and experiences, sharing our emotions and opening ourselves to the those who do the same ritual with us; giving and taking ourselves in the most basic forms of time, energy, and communication that builds into a construct of emotional investment that we diffuse into others and receive in return. We share ourselves amongst the throngs of fellow souls in this roiling sea of life, giving parts of ourselves in every facet of our day, portioning and rationing slices of our essence as a person in exchange for something we hope to be equivalent. When we share a piece of ourselves, we do it with love and well wishes, with happiness, for the improvement of our means in life and success in peace of mind; leaving an emptiness with which we hope another can fill.

But not all life can be so idyllic in practice. We share with choice, but there will be moments when our resolve falters. Desperation and selfishness, fear and disregard will overpower our soul, and we tear at the world. In our moments of chaos we tear at ourselves, but in tune with human nature we tear at those who we care for and who care for us. We make a niche in peoples' lives, we show love and intimacy, only to tear what we desire and require from them, like barbed wire through silken cloth before casting them aside into the forgotten wind. We find people in this world who draw us to them with some indefinable quality or with some simple parameter we crave, and in our chaotic need for fulfilment through mind, body and/or soul, we tear at their life like some rabid dog, taking our pound of flesh. We tear and share, biting into the sweet dough of happiness, willingly shared or harshly taken.