Cinnamon Roll Sugar Cookies

Summer again. June. The cycle turns. I am sixty years old and standing in my kitchen on a Tuesday evening making Sylvia's brisket for no occasion, for no audience, for no reason other than the fact that the brisket needs to be made the way prayers need to be said — not because anyone is listening but because the saying is the point. Marvin will eat it. The leftovers will feed us for days. The house will smell like my mother's house, and for the hours that the brisket braises, I will be my mother's daughter in the most literal way available to me: doing what she did, in the way she did it, with the ingredients she used, in a kitchen that smells like hers.

Sophie turned one this week. One year old. Jennifer threw a party in White Plains. There was a cake with pink frosting and a small crowd of one-year-olds who did not understand the concept of a birthday but who understood the concept of cake, which is really all you need to understand at one. Sophie ate cake with her hands and wore most of it on her face, and the photos Jennifer sent are the most beautiful things I have seen this year, more beautiful than any sunset or painting or first-edition Chekhov, because beauty in its highest form is a one-year-old eating cake and not caring who is watching.

I brought rugelach to the party. This is my contribution to every event: rugelach. I am the rugelach woman. I arrive with tins of rugelach the way other people arrive with wine or flowers, and no one has ever complained, because rugelach is better than wine and flowers, and this is a hill I will die on. The children did not eat the rugelach. Their parents did. This is the correct distribution: the children eat cake, the adults eat rugelach, and the grandmother eats pride, which is the most calorie-dense emotion and the most satisfying.

I wrote about first birthdays on the blog — about how a first birthday is really the parents' birthday, the anniversary of the day they became parents, and how the food at a first birthday party is less for the child (who will eat whatever is in front of her face, including the plate) and more for the community, the people who showed up to witness the first year and eat cake and say: you did it. You kept a human alive for a year. Here is cake. Here is rugelach. Here is the village, reminding you that you do not do this alone.

Sophie is one. Ethan is three. The grandchildren are growing. The brisket is braising. The summer is beginning. Everything is exactly as it should be, which is a rare and precious sentence to be able to write, and I write it now, in June, at sixty, with full knowledge that "exactly as it should be" is a temporary condition, and with full gratitude for the temporary.

I will never stop bringing rugelach — that is simply who I am — but when I got home from Sophie’s party and found myself still in the mood to bake, still wanting to fill the kitchen with the smell of cinnamon and butter and something warm and rolled and sweet, these Cinnamon Roll Sugar Cookies were the natural next thing. They have the same spirit as rugelach: a little swirled, a little cinnamony, the kind of thing you put in a tin and bring to people you love. The children at the next party will eat these. I am fairly certain of it.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 37 minutes (plus 1 hour chill time) | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons whole milk
Cinnamon Filling:
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Glaze:
1 cup powdered sugar, sifted
2–3 tablespoons whole milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

Make the dough. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg, vanilla, and milk, and beat until combined. Reduce speed to low and gradually mix in the flour mixture until a soft dough forms.
Chill. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured piece of parchment paper, shape into a flat rectangle, wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight. Cold dough rolls cleanly and holds the swirl better.
Make the filling. Stir together the softened butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon in a small bowl until a smooth paste forms. Set aside.
Roll and fill. Preheat oven to 350°F. On a lightly floured surface, roll the chilled dough into a rectangle roughly 12 x 10 inches and about 1/4 inch thick. Spread the cinnamon filling evenly over the surface, leaving a 1/2-inch border along one long edge.
Roll and slice. Starting from the long edge with filling, roll the dough tightly into a log, pressing gently as you go. Pinch the seam to seal. Using a sharp knife, slice the log into rounds about 1/2 inch thick. Place on parchment-lined baking sheets, spacing about 2 inches apart.
Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are just set and the bottoms are lightly golden. Do not overbake — the centers will look slightly underdone but will firm up as they cool. Transfer to a wire rack and cool completely before glazing.
Glaze. Whisk together the powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth and drizzleable. Add milk one teaspoon at a time to reach your preferred consistency. Drizzle over the cooled cookies and allow to set for 10 minutes before serving or packing into a tin.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cinnamon Roll Sugar Cookies — The Sweetness You Bring to Every Gathering