Swedish Cinnamon Buns (Kanelbullar)

The Christmas lights still up in February because no one has the energy to take them down. Pete and I worked the night shift Friday. We talked between codes about the kids — his daughter's wedding planning, my sister's pregnancy. The talking was the keeping.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous.

I made puto bumbong this week. The purple rice cakes. The Christmas dawn dish.

The blog post on puto bumbong got picked up by a Filipino-American newsletter. Traffic doubled for two days. The traffic was the surprise.

I called Lourdes Sunday night. The call was the call. The call was always the call.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

I made puto bumbong because I needed something that tasted like a dawn you earned—sweet and a little ceremonial, the kind of food that only makes sense when shared. Not every kitchen has the bamboo tubes or the purple glutinous rice, and when I thought about what else carries that same feeling—warm, festive, soft in the center, meant to be pulled apart among people—I kept coming back to these Swedish cinnamon buns. They are not puto bumbong, but they speak the same language: the language of the thing you make when the season asks you to remember why you bother. Dr. Reeves said cooking is the bridge, and this recipe is a bridge I trust.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 50 minutes (includes rise time) | Servings: 12 buns

Ingredients

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
3/4 cup whole milk, warmed to 110°F
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 large egg, room temperature
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, divided
Filling:
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
Topping:
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
2 tablespoons pearl sugar or coarse sugar

Instructions

Activate the yeast. Combine warm milk and yeast in the bowl of a stand mixer. Let sit 5 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, your yeast is not active—start again with a fresh packet.
Make the dough. Add sugar, salt, cardamom, and egg to the yeast mixture. Add flour 1 cup at a time, mixing on low. Once the dough comes together, add softened butter one tablespoon at a time. Increase speed to medium and knead 8 minutes until the dough is smooth and pulls away from the bowl’s sides.
First rise. Shape dough into a ball and place in a lightly oiled bowl. Cover with a clean towel and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour to 1 1/2 hours, until doubled in size.
Make the filling. In a small bowl, mix softened butter, sugar, cinnamon, and cardamom into a smooth paste. Set aside.
Shape the buns. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll into a rectangle approximately 12 by 16 inches. Spread filling evenly to the edges. Fold the dough in thirds like a letter (fold one long side to the center, then the other over the top). Cut into 12 equal strips. Twist each strip and coil it into a round bun, tucking the end underneath. Place on parchment-lined baking sheets, spaced 2 inches apart.
Second rise. Cover loosely and let buns rise 30 to 45 minutes until puffed.
Bake. Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush each bun with beaten egg and sprinkle with pearl sugar. Bake 16 to 20 minutes until deep golden brown. Rotate the pan halfway through for even color.
Cool and serve. Let buns rest on the pan for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Best eaten warm, the day they are made—though they reheat well, wrapped in foil, at 325°F for 8 minutes.

Nutrition (per serving)

Swedish Cinnamon Buns (Kanelbullar) — When the Christmas Dish Leads You Back to Warmth