Day 79 Cinnamon Buns, For Real!
Nothing makes yeast breads rise quite as nicely as potato water, and since I happened to save some after making supper last night, I was inspired to bake today. Once the thought entered my brain and set up shop, it didn’t really matter that I had several things to do after yoga; I began craving cinnamon buns, and that was that.
I used to bake a lot, part of my earth-mother persona, and I’m pretty good at it. It’s kind of a Mennonite thing. However, I’m what I call an extemporaneous cook, considering recipes more of… guidelines… than hard and fast rules. I’ll go off on a tangent, substituting hither and yon, cutting corners on overly complicated recipes and generally making stuff up as I go along.
The first thing my daughter asked when I told her I was baking cinnamon buns was, “real ones?”
“What do you mean, real ones?” I asked, affronted.
“No nuts or oatmeal or Splenda or-”
“Yes,” I snapped. “The real thing. All the sugar, all the butter, nothing healthy. Don’t worry.”
I didn’t tell her, but I’ve switched to a new flour, supposedly it has all the nutrition of whole wheat, but the look and taste of white flour. We’ll see.
“Don’t get me wrong, Mom,” she hastened to add, aware that as the main Food Provider, I’m also able to block access to the goods. “Your other ones were delicious too. They just weren’t… you know… cinnamon buns.”
Yes, I remember. And she’s being generous; they were horrid gummy tooth-breakers, not in the same class of baked item. As evidenced by the Canned Kale Pasta Debacle, not all my experiments are successful.
Well, I’m happy to say that, despite my lack of practice, today’s effort was worthwhile – and nobody even noticed that they’re not quite as white as usual.
If anyone’s interested, here’s the recipe. (I use skim milk, and cut the recipe so I can use my Bosch mixer. I also put brown sugar and raisins in the filling, but other than that, it’s the Real UBC Cinnamon Bun.)
UBC CINNAMON BUNS (TRADITIONAL METHOD)
These legendary cinnamon buns were first introduced to the University of British Columbia’s students in the early 1950s. The recipe has been printed numerous times in The Vancouver Sun and every year they still get requests for these light-textured buns. Although large, they’re not as rich and gooey as some cinnamon buns.
Dough
3 cups (750 mL) milk (2 per cent M.F.)
6 tablespoons (90 mL) butter
6 tablespoons (90 mL) granulated sugar
1 tablespoon (15 mL) salt
1 teaspoon (5 mL) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (125 mL) lukewarm water
2 (8 g) packages traditional active dry yeast
2 large eggs
9 cups (2.25 L) all-purpose flour, about
Filling
11/4 cups (300 mL) granulated sugar
2 tablespoons (30 mL) ground cinnamon
3/4 cup (175 mL) melted butter, divided
Dough: Scald milk. Stir in butter, 6 tablespoons (90 mL) sugar and salt. Cool to lukewarm.
Dissolve the 1 teaspoon (5 mL) sugar in lukewarm water. Sprinkle yeast over water mixture. Let stand in warm place for 10 minutes; stir.
In large bowl, combine lukewarm milk mixture and eggs. Stir in dissolved yeast. Add 4 to 5 cups (1 to 1.25 L) flour and beat well for 10 minutes. With wooden spoon, gradually add enough of the remaining flour to make a soft dough.
Turn dough out on to lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, adding additional flour as needed. (This is a soft dough.) Place in well greased bowl and roll dough over to grease the top. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise in warm place for 1 hour or until double in size.
Meanwhile prepare filling: In small bowl, combine sugar and cinnamon; set aside.
Punch down dough and turn out on to lightly floured surface. Divide dough in half.
Roll out each piece of dough into 18×9-inch (46×23 cm) rectangle. Brush each rectangle generously with melted butter. Place remaining melted butter in bottom of 161/2 x111/2 x21/2-inch (42x29x6 cm) pan.
Sprinkle an equal portion of sugar-cinnamon mixture evenly over each rectangle. Roll each dough rectangle up tightly like a jelly roll, starting from the long side; pinch seam to seal. With sharp knife, cut into 2-inch (5 cm) slices. Arrange slices, cut-side down, in prepared pan and cover loosely with greased wax paper. Let rise in warm place for 45 to 60 minutes or until doubled in size.
Bake at 350 F (180 C) for 35 to 45 minutes or until baked. Remove from oven and immediately invert on to serving tray.
Makes 18 large cinnamon buns.
Approximate nutritional analysis for each serving: 433 cal, 9 g pro, 14 g fat, 69 g carb.
Day 78 Tripping on the Finish Line?
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7Pl7d2fyc8]
I just signed up for a workshop with acclaimed screenwriter Michael Hauge, sponsored by my local chapter of the Romance Writers of America. (Same guy, different event from the one advertised above, but wasn’t that a cute clip?)
Michael Hauge is a story and script consultant, author and lecturer who works with writers and filmmakers on their screenplays, novels, movies and television projects. He has coached writers, producers, stars and directors on projects for Will Smith, Julia Roberts, Jennifer Lopez, Kirsten Dunst, Charlize Theron and Morgan Freeman, as well as for every major studio and network.
He’ll present his unique approach to creating compelling fiction, and eliciting emotion in readers through story concept, plot structure, character development and theme, plus reveal his proven method for getting manuscripts noticed by the people in power.
And it’s happening right here – not in Hollywood – but in Vancouver.
This is all well and good, however, there’s one small glitch: it happens to fall on DAY 90 of my yoga challenge.
You know what that means.
I’ve got to do another double-day somewhere in the next eleven days!! ARGH!
Day 75 McYoga Bad Boy
There’s another woman at my studio who’s also going for 90 days, Heather, and we compare notes whenever we happen to be at the same class. We’re both a little amazed, I think, that we’ve made it this far.
Today Heather brought her brother in with her. She’d been talking it up, I guess, and he finally decided to give it a try. As always, it’s a bit entertaining when there’s fresh meat in the hot room. (For a few minutes anyway; as soon as we get going, it’s all you can do to pay attention to your own breathing, never mind anyone else’s performance.)
But unline Naked Sweaty Boys, Heather’s brother was of mature years and girth, and our gentle amusement gave way to alarm as reality landed on him. He spent the last few postures listing sideways on his haunches, one hand on his chest.
“Is he okay?” another woman asked in the change room, after class. Several of us gathered around to hear the answer. It had crossed my mind that if I do Bikram yoga long enough, I’m bound to see someone pass out or throw up or something eventually.
“He’s fine,” answered Heather, waving away our concern with typical sisterly nonchalance. “Probably has a bit more respect for me now.”
Fortunately, the instructor told him, as they do all beginners, to lie down if he began to feel dizzy, light-headed or nauseous. The goal, we’re all told, is simply to stay in the room.
But some instructors are more stringent than others. Bikram Choudhury himself has a reputation for insulting students, chastising them, berating them all as part of his unique – and copyrighted – version of yoga. Maybe he can get away with it because of his broken English and chipper accent, but I don’t think I’d have gone back for a second class, had it been my junk body he was poking at.
I like my studio and I like the workout, but the man himself… well, you decide …