Kanelbulle
Kanelbulle — cinnamon bun, and a Swedish institution.
Two tubes of shop-bought cinnamon rolls, cut into pieces and baked in a maple custard. It comes together in ten minutes and feeds a table.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Heat the oven to 190C/375F. Pour the melted butter over the base of a 23x33cm (9x13in) glass baking dish and tilt it until the bottom is coated.
Cut each cinnamon roll into eight pieces and scatter them evenly over the butter. Set the icing sachets somewhere warm so they pour easily later.
Whisk the eggs, milk, cinnamon and vanilla together in a bowl until no streaks of white remain, then pour the mixture over the rolls.
Pour the maple syrup over the top. Do not stir it in; it should sink through on its own and catch on the base.
Bake for 25 minutes, until the top is deep golden and the centre no longer wobbles like liquid. A knife inserted into the middle should come out clean rather than wet. Because the custard contains six eggs, use this test rather than relying only on the clock.
Drizzle the reserved icing over the bake while it is still hot, allowing it to melt into the top rather than sit on it. Serve warm.
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Sweet, and there is no serious argument to be made otherwise — 240ml of maple syrup plus two iced buns' worth of sugar is a great deal. What stops it being one-dimensional is that the sweetness comes from three different places with three different characters: maple, which is mineral and slightly bitter and tastes of wood; the buns' own brown-sugar-and-cinnamon filling, which is caramelly; and the icing, which is straightforwardly sugary. Cinnamon runs through all of it, warm and slightly astringent. Underneath, the custard is eggy and rich and largely savoury, and it is the only thing keeping the dish anchored — six eggs is why this reads as breakfast rather than as pudding. Vanilla rounds it. There is no acid anywhere, which is the dish's real weakness and why it wants coffee.
Cinnamon and butter, filling a kitchen within ten minutes of going in the oven. Then maple, which develops as the syrup caramelises against the base and smells darker and more burnt-sugar than it does from the bottle. Under it, baking bread and warm egg custard. It is the most straightforwardly appealing smell in the collection and it is the reason people come into the kitchen.
Three layers and the middle one is the point. The top is dry, slightly crisp and browned. The middle is soft, set custard holding pieces of bun that have gone somewhere between bread and cake. The base is sticky, dense and toffee-like where the syrup caramelised against the butter. Anyone who has made a bread-and-butter pudding will recognise the structure; the difference is that the bread arrived already sweet and spiced.
Very little. Cutting a portion out gives a slightly sticky resistance at the base, which is a good sign. There is no crunch anywhere.
Cinnamon first, in the nose and then immediately on the tongue. Then sweetness, arriving in a wave and staying. The egg custard shows through the middle and is what keeps the mouthful from being purely sugar. The maple is last and lowest — it has sunk, so the base of each forkful carries it — and its slight bitterness is the only thing that clears the palate at the end. Across a portion it becomes progressively sweeter as you work down into the syrup layer, which is either the best part or too much depending on the person.
Warm, and it matters. Hot from the oven the custard is still loose and it is hard to serve; cold from the fridge it is dense and the maple flavour is muted. Fifteen minutes out of the oven, or reheated the next day, is where it is best.
Black coffee, and strong. This is not a suggestion so much as a requirement — the dish has no acidity and no bitterness of its own, and an espresso or a good filter is what makes a second forkful possible. Beyond that: fresh berries or a sharp fruit compote, which is a genuine improvement and adds the acid the dish lacks. Crème fraîche or plain yoghurt for the same reason. It fails next to anything else sweet and next to fruit juice, which compounds the sugar.
The easiest baked thing in the collection. There is no dough, no rise, no folding and no technique. The only judgement is when the custard is set, and the recipe gives a test for it.
Moderate. Two tubes of rolls and six eggs is not nothing, but it feeds eight and there is no equipment or specialist ingredient involved.
A 23x33cm baking dish, glass or ceramic. A bowl and a whisk. Nothing else.
Christmas morning, holidays, and the morning after people have stayed over.
None, though it belongs to cold mornings.
Deep golden on top and puffed. The centre should no longer move like liquid when the dish is nudged — a slight wobble is fine, a wave is not. A knife into the middle should come out clean rather than wet, which the recipe says explicitly because six eggs is a lot of custard to underbake.
Set but soft, like a bread-and-butter pudding rather than like a cake. The base should be sticky where the syrup has caught.
It contains six eggs and they must be cooked through. The knife test is the reason the recipe insists on it: a dish this deep can look brown and finished on top while the middle is still liquid egg, and there is no visual cue on the surface that tells you otherwise. Bake until the knife comes out clean.
Stirring the maple syrup in, which loses the caramelised base that is the best part. Underbaking, which is the real risk with six eggs and is why the knife test is in the recipe rather than a time alone. Cold icing, which sits on top in lumps instead of melting in. Not buttering the base properly, so the syrup layer sticks. And using pancake syrup, which is corn syrup and gives a flat, one-note sweetness.
Wet in the middle: it needs another five to eight minutes, covered loosely with foil if the top is already dark. Too dry: overbaked, and next time pull it as soon as the knife comes out clean. Soggy rather than set: the oven was too cool. No sticky base: the syrup was stirred in, or the dish was not buttered. Overwhelmingly sweet: serve it with something sharp — this is a dish that genuinely needs the fruit or the yoghurt rather than being improved by them.
It can be assembled the night before, covered and refrigerated, and baked in the morning — add about five minutes to the bake since it starts cold. That is how it is best used, since the ten minutes of assembly is the only awkward part of a holiday morning.
Three days covered in the fridge. It firms up considerably when cold.
Very well — a square in a microwave for thirty seconds, or the whole dish covered in a low oven. It is arguably better reheated the next day, when the syrup layer has fully set into the base.
Two months, cut into portions and wrapped. Thaw and reheat.
Good cold from the fridge, which is not the intended use and is what actually happens.
Halves into a smaller dish easily. Doubling means two dishes rather than one deeper one; a deeper custard will not set through in twenty-five minutes and the outside will be dry before the middle is done.
Real maple syrup rather than pancake syrup makes a considerable difference — pancake syrup is corn syrup with flavouring and is much sweeter with none of maple's mineral edge. Any refrigerated cinnamon roll works. Made-from-scratch cinnamon buns work too and rather defeat the object; if you have leftover stale ones they are excellent here. Whole milk can be cream for a richer set, or a plant milk, which works fine.
Vegetarian. Not vegan and not really adaptable — six eggs are doing the structural work and no substitute sets the same way. Not gluten-free. Contains cereals containing gluten, eggs and milk, all declared.
Refrigerated cinnamon rolls with icing included — the icing is used, so buy the kind that comes with it. Real maple syrup, and the darker grades are better here than the delicate ones because they stand up to the sugar around them.
Own-brand refrigerated rolls work identically. Real maple syrup is the expensive item and is worth it; if it is out of reach, a mixture of golden syrup with a spoonful of black treacle gets closer to maple's depth than pancake syrup does.
Nothing notable. Using up stale homemade buns instead of buying tubes is both cheaper and the original point of the technique.
Around 450 calories a serving and roughly 40g of sugar, which is a great deal and should be stated plainly. The six eggs contribute around 8g of protein per portion, which is the only nutritionally serious thing in it.
Worth it for what it is, which is worth being clear about: this is not baking, it is assembly, and it produces something very sweet that eight people will finish. Ten minutes of work for a hot breakfast that feeds a table is a genuinely good trade, and the sticky maple base is better than the effort deserves. Serve something sharp beside it.
The dish is American convenience baking. The cinnamon bun it is built from is Swedish.
None — this is a modern recipe with a descriptive name. The Swedish bun is a kanelbulle.
Kanelbulle is roughly ka-NEEL-bull-eh.
Kanel is cinnamon and bulle is bun. The English cinnamon roll is a direct translation.
Two separate histories meet here and neither is this recipe's. Bread pudding is medieval and European and exists for a plain reason — stale bread was too valuable to throw away, and soaking it in eggs and milk made it edible again. Every strata, every bread-and-butter pudding and every French toast bake is a descendant. The cinnamon bun is Nordic: cinnamon and cardamom reached Scandinavia through trade, wheat and sugar became affordable to ordinary households in the early twentieth century, and the kanelbulle became a fixture of the coffee break that Swedes call fika. Sweden has marked Kanelbullens dag on 4 October since 1999, which was invented by a baking industry body and has been thoroughly adopted anyway. The American cinnamon roll — larger, sweeter, iced, and often made from refrigerated dough — is a descendant of the Nordic one and is what this recipe uses.
Its significance is domestic rather than cultural: it belongs to the category of American recipes designed for feeding a lot of people at breakfast with very little work, alongside the overnight strata and the sheet-pan pancake. That is a real and useful category and there is no need to dress it up as heritage.
Christmas morning, holidays, and any breakfast where eight people need feeding and nobody wants to stand at a stove.
Nothing traditional is happening. The one piece of real technique is the unstirred syrup, which relies on density — maple syrup is heavier than the egg mixture and will find the bottom on its own.
It is too recent to have changed. What is worth noting is the direction of travel: the Swedish bun is markedly less sweet than the American one, uses cardamom as much as cinnamon, and is not iced. A Swede would not recognise this as a relative.
The Nordic buns are the interesting comparison. Sweden's kanelbulle is cardamom-scented and finished with pearl sugar rather than icing. Finland's korvapuusti is shaped differently and similarly restrained. The heavily iced American roll is the outlier and is what this recipe is built on.
It is not a version of anything. It is a bake that uses shop-bought buns, and the dossier says so rather than claiming a Scandinavian pedigree it does not have.
No attribution. The Kanelbullens dag date and its 1999 introduction are a matter of record.