Overnight Soft and Fluffy Cinnamon Rolls

Passover is next week — the third without Marvin at the table. The preparations are muscle memory now: the chametz removal, the dish switching, the brisket ordered from Ira, the matzo balls planned. The movements are the same as they have been for forty-two years, the body performing the ritual while the mind wanders to the room in Cedarhurst where I will bring the seder plate and the matzo and the brisket on Saturday afternoon, the portable Passover, the holiday compressed into a container and carried ten miles down the Southern State Parkway to a man in a recliner who will eat the matzo without knowing why it's flat.

But first: the table. Twelve people. The framed photo at Marvin's place. The Haggadahs, the Maxwell House ones, worn and familiar and correct. Ethan will ask the four questions — his fifth year, the tradition now embedded, the Hebrew automatic, the asking no longer a performance but a practice. Sophie will help me with the matzo ball rolling — she has graduated from cranberry sauce to matzo balls, which is a promotion in the Feldman kitchen hierarchy that I do not grant lightly. Noah, five, will search for the afikomen with Hannah, three, and the searching will be chaotic and imprecise and wonderful.

I made charoset on Thursday. The apples, the walnuts, the wine, the cinnamon. The paste that is mortar. The paste that is sweetness made from labor. The paste that is every Passover I have made and every Passover that was made before me, the sweetness of liberation mixed with the texture of slavery, the two things that are always present at the same table, on the same plate, in the same mouth. I made the charoset and I thought of Marvin and I thought of Sylvia and I thought of the women in the shtetl who made charoset from apples they grew and walnuts they gathered and wine they made from their own grapes, and the recipe has not changed because the recipe does not need to change because liberation tastes the same in every century.

The cinnamon in the charoset is what I think about longest — the way it rises out of the bowl before anything else, the smell arriving before the meaning does. After I finished the charoset on Thursday, I stayed in the kitchen and made the dough for these rolls, letting them rise overnight the way I have done for years on the morning after the seder, when the table has been cleared and the Haggadahs are stacked and twelve people need to be fed something warm and unhurried. The cinnamon connects them: the mortar and the sweetness, the ancient and the immediate, the paste in the bowl and the spiral in the pan. Sophie will help me pull them apart in the morning, which is her next promotion in the Feldman kitchen, and I will let her earn it.

Prep Time: 30 minutes + overnight rise | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 9 hours (mostly hands-off) | Servings: 12 rolls

Ingredients

For the dough:
1 cup whole milk, warmed to 110°F
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (one standard packet)
1/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
2 large eggs, room temperature
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 teaspoon fine salt
4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
For the filling:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
For the cream cheese glaze:
4 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 cup powdered sugar, sifted
3–4 tablespoons whole milk
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Proof the yeast. Combine the warm milk, yeast, and 1 tablespoon of the granulated sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer. Stir gently and let stand 5–10 minutes until foamy and fragrant. If it does not foam, your yeast is not active — start again with fresh yeast.
Make the dough. Add the remaining sugar, eggs, melted butter, and salt to the yeast mixture. Using the dough hook on medium-low speed, add the flour one cup at a time, mixing until a soft, slightly tacky dough forms, about 5 minutes. Increase to medium speed and knead 6–8 minutes until the dough is smooth and pulls away cleanly from the sides of the bowl.
First rise. Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl and turn once to coat. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let rise at room temperature until doubled in size, about 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
Make the filling. In a small bowl, stir together the softened butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg until a thick paste forms. Set aside.
Roll and fill. Punch down the risen dough and turn it onto a lightly floured surface. Roll into a rectangle roughly 16 inches by 12 inches. Spread the cinnamon filling evenly across the surface all the way to the edges.
Roll and slice. Starting from the long edge, roll the dough tightly into a log. Using a sharp knife or unflavored dental floss, cut into 12 equal rolls, each about 1 1/4 inches thick.
Overnight rest. Arrange the rolls in a buttered 9-by-13-inch baking dish, leaving a little space between each. Cover the dish tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight, or up to 14 hours.
Second rise. The next morning, remove the dish from the refrigerator and let the rolls sit at room temperature, still covered, for 45 minutes to 1 hour until they have puffed and nearly fill the pan.
Bake. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake uncovered for 22–26 minutes until golden brown on top and the centers are just set. Do not overbake — they will continue to firm as they cool slightly.
Make the glaze. While the rolls bake, beat the softened cream cheese until smooth. Add the powdered sugar, vanilla, salt, and 3 tablespoons of milk. Beat until silky and pourable, adding the fourth tablespoon of milk if needed to reach a drizzleable consistency.
Glaze and serve. Pour or spread the glaze over the warm rolls immediately out of the oven. Serve in the pan and let people pull them apart themselves — that is half the point.

Nutrition (per serving)

Overnight Soft and Fluffy Cinnamon Rolls — The Cinnamon That Carries Every Year Forward