Overnight Cinnamon and Sugar Sweet Rolls

January 2018. The cold has settled in with the permanence of a guest who has no intention of leaving. The radiators in the Oceanside house work overtime, making the particular clanking sounds that old radiators make — the sound of my childhood on the Grand Concourse, where the radiators were the percussion section of winter and every apartment had its own rhythm. I love radiator sounds the way I love all sounds that connect me to the apartment where I grew up: the creak of the fire escape, the thump of Irving's newspaper hitting the kitchen table, the particular silence of Sylvia standing at the stove, which was not silence at all but the sound of concentration.

I made cholent again — it is January, it is cold, cholent is the answer. But this time I made it differently: I added a whole egg, still in the shell, nestled into the beans and barley, to cook overnight. The egg emerges twelve hours later with a brown shell and a creamy interior that tastes like time itself. This is the Sephardic addition to the Ashkenazi cholent — the haminados egg, slow-cooked until it transforms. Miriam taught me this. Her years in Israel have expanded her Jewish cooking the way travel expands a vocabulary: she still speaks the mother tongue, but now she has new words.

Speaking of Miriam: her daughter Noa had the baby. A girl. Miriam is a grandmother. She called me at three in the morning — five in the morning Tel Aviv time — too excited to wait for the Friday call, too excited to calculate time zones, too excited to be anything but a woman who has just met her grandchild and needs to tell her sister immediately. The baby's name is Tamar. She weighs seven pounds. She has the Rosen eyes — dark, serious, evaluating. Miriam said, "She looks like Mama." I said, "All babies look like Mama to us, Miriam." She said, "No. She really looks like Mama." I cried. I cried for ten minutes after we hung up, because Sylvia has been gone for fifteen years and there is a baby in Tel Aviv with her eyes, and the chain doesn't break, not on the Grand Concourse and not on the Mediterranean and not in the middle of the night in a kitchen in Oceanside where a grandmother is crying into a pot of cholent because the world just got bigger by one.

I made a batch of rugelach and sent them to Miriam via a friend traveling to Israel next week. Rugelach for the new grandmother. Rugelach for baby Tamar. Rugelach for the chain that extends now from New York to Tel Aviv to a hospital room where a baby with Sylvia's eyes is learning to breathe.

That night—three in the morning, Miriam on the phone, Tamar just born and already wearing Sylvia’s eyes—I already had something slow and patient working in the kitchen. There is a particular comfort in food that asks you to wait, in dough you prepare the night before and trust to do its work while you sleep. These overnight cinnamon and sugar sweet rolls are that kind of recipe: you roll them, you tuck them in, and by morning they have become something warm and golden and worthy of a celebration. I have been making rugelach for decades when I need to mark something sacred, but these rolls—soft, slow-risen, fragrant with cinnamon—are what I turned to for Tamar. Some mornings, you wake up and the world is bigger than it was. These rolls are made for exactly that kind of morning.

Prep Time: 25 minutes + overnight rise | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 9 to 13 hours | Servings: 12 rolls

Ingredients

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

Instructions

Bloom the yeast. In a large mixing bowl, combine the warm milk, yeast, and 1 tablespoon of the granulated sugar. Stir gently and let stand 5 to 7 minutes until the mixture is foamy and fragrant. If it does not foam, your yeast may be inactive—start again with a fresh packet.
Mix the dough. To the yeast mixture, add the melted butter, eggs, vanilla, remaining sugar, and salt. Whisk to combine. Add the flour one cup at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough forms, then turn onto a lightly floured surface.
Knead until smooth. Knead the dough by hand for 7 to 8 minutes, until it is smooth, slightly tacky, and springs back when poked. Alternatively, use a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook on medium speed for 5 minutes.
First rise. Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a lightly greased bowl. Cover with a clean kitchen towel or plastic wrap and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
Make the filling. In a small bowl, stir together the softened butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and salt until you have a thick, spreadable paste. Set aside.
Roll and fill. Punch down the risen dough and turn it onto a lightly floured surface. Using a rolling pin, roll it into a 12 by 18-inch rectangle, with the long edge facing you. Spread the cinnamon-sugar filling evenly across the surface, leaving a 1/2-inch border along the far long edge.
Roll and cut. Starting from the long edge closest to you, roll the dough tightly into a log. Pinch the seam to seal. Using a sharp knife or unflavored dental floss, cut the log into 12 equal rolls, each about 1 1/2 inches wide.
Arrange and refrigerate overnight. Place the rolls cut-side up in a greased 9 by 13-inch baking dish, spacing them evenly. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 8 hours and up to 12 hours. This slow overnight rise is what gives the rolls their tender, complex flavor.
Morning rise. Remove the rolls from the refrigerator and let them sit at room temperature, still covered, for 45 to 60 minutes. They should puff noticeably. Preheat your oven to 350°F during this time.
Bake. Uncover the rolls and bake for 22 to 25 minutes, until the tops are deep golden brown and the center rolls feel set when pressed lightly. Do not underbake—pale rolls will be doughy at the center.
Glaze and serve. While the rolls are still warm, whisk together the powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle generously over the rolls. Serve immediately, pulling them apart at the table.

Nutrition (per serving)

Overnight Cinnamon and Sugar Sweet Rolls — For the Baby with Sylvia’s Eyes