I’m not sure who had the great idea in the beginning of domestication. They decided to add chicken eggs and cow milk to the basic flour and water mix. But this sweet bread stands the test of time, like in centuries of time.
People come and go like blips on a screen. This mix of earthy, moldy yeast and egg holds the collective DNA memory of taste. Sugar, salt, and milk also contribute to this lasting memory.
The Grandmothers and Mothers become legends. The children feel they will never eat anything as good ever again. It’s the food that binds family history. This is true if they are lucky enough to have someone who is adept at producing breads and pastry.
The method is complex, and the time involved to coax the flavor from the slowly fermenting yeast requires patience. This yeast inflates the sweet moist matrix. The entire process requires copious amounts of both patience and practice.
It’s the irresistible smell of sweet and richly rank. It’s like the smell of a newborn to its mother. It’s addictive, and you can’t let it go. It’s familiar, it’s comforting, It’s the taste and smell memory you long for and never forget. It’s the Kolach bread of Hungary, Jewish Challah, almost every European culture has a version. Other cultures use more indigenous ingredients. To make it even richer, raisins and lemon zest is incorporated into the dough.
Today, I take this very same sweet dough and roll it out into a rectangular shape. I kick it up a few notches by smearing a generous amount of butter. Then I add handfuls of brown and white sugar and a thick dusting of cinnamon bark powder. These ingredients combine into a thick syrup through the alchemy of heat. Finally, we have our cinnamon roll. It is the culmination of eight to ten hours of labor.
This is the genesis of the most exquisite sweet roll you will ever eat.

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