Honey Bun Cookies

Carrie came home from Fukuoka on September 8th. Two years in Japan. She arrived at the Charleston airport and I was there (the airport is for arrivals now, not departures, and the arrivals can be borne), and she walked through the terminal with the deliberate grace that Japan gave her and that two years of teaching sharpened, and the sharpness was not aggression but precision, the precision of a woman who has learned to stand in front of a room and speak and be heard.

She will stay with us for a while — weeks, maybe months, the while being the space between Japan and whatever comes next. The house is three again: Naomi, Robert, Carrie. The three-ness is warm. The warmth is the kitchen with another person in it, the kitchen with a daughter who cooks beside me the way she cooked beside me before she left, the same stove, the same recipes, the same woman, different.

The different is the two years. The two years are in her posture, in her voice, in the way she bows slightly when she says "thank you," the Japanese habit that has become an American habit, the habit of respect made physical. The physical respect changes the room. The room is changed.

I made the welcome-home dinner: fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, peach cobbler. The feast of return. The feast I have made for every return since the first departure, and the making is the tradition, and the tradition is the welcome, and the welcome is the food.

The peach cobbler was already cooling on the counter when I realized I wanted one more sweet thing on the table — something small, hand-held, something Carrie could take to her room later that night and eat quietly while she remembered she was home. Honey bun cookies are exactly that: soft and warm and glazed like a Sunday morning, the cinnamon in them the kind of familiar that doesn’t need explaining. I’ve made them at the end of every big return dinner since I can remember, and setting that plate down beside the cobbler felt like closing a circle that had been open for two years.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 32 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup sour cream
For the glaze: 1 cup powdered sugar, 2–3 tablespoons milk, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat softened butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar together with a hand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
Add wet ingredients. Beat in eggs one at a time, then mix in honey and vanilla extract until fully combined. Add sour cream and mix until smooth.
Combine. Reduce mixer to low and gradually add the flour mixture, stirring just until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
Portion and bake. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing about 2 inches apart. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are set and the tops look just dry. Centers will look slightly underdone — that’s right.
Cool. Let cookies cool on the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before glazing.
Make the glaze. Whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth and pourable. Add milk one teaspoon at a time to reach a drizzle consistency.
Glaze and set. Drizzle glaze generously over cooled cookies. Allow glaze to set for 10 minutes before serving or stacking.

Nutrition (per serving)

Honey Bun Cookies — The Sweet Close to a Welcome-Home Feast