Thursday, December 06, 2007


There has been some baking lately, my friends. My ass is once again threatening to burst free from its trappings and shake the world into earthquakes. But oh, how good it is to bake.

Baking something for someone you love just feels good at the bone level. You know you're introducing something sweet into their lives. How could baking ever be bad?

Well, ask my blood sugar levels.

This all started with CookieFest 2007, over at the fabulous Heather's, where I met brilliant and funny people and ate my weight in sugar and champagne. Then C jetted off to Florida for some work thing--having the nerve to grumble about it, too--and as he was packing, we learned that we're hosting the dessert portion of the annual neighborhood progressive dinner. This Sunday. For 30 or so. Which means there will be more baking to come.

So last night I cruised through all eleventy zillion of my cookbooks, looking for recipes. Lime curd tart, chocolate cake, pumpkin pie, my mom's brownies - they've all made the cut. But they pale compared to the cinnamon rolls I made last night.

The recipe's from a Cooks Illustrated book (New Recipes) and it could not be simpler. The rolls come out beautifully with a minimum of fuss, the recipe is precise and easy to follow, and the rolls themselves are sheer heaven. And by that I mean they are capable of putting you in an insulin coma within seconds. Mmm, insulin coma! Bring it on.


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