Yeast- I have overcome!...

So for a long time, I avoided the matter entirely. If I happened upon a recipe that called for yeast, I simply skipped ahead to another. The word "yeast" was synonymous with "stop," or "dream on, lady." I guess you could say that yeast was like the cute guy in junior high: the one with great hair, the one who looks like heartbreak waiting to happen. To spare yourself the sure humiliation, you decide to give him a wide berth, to only stare from afar. But then, when he sits down at your lunch table, instead of striking up a conversation, you cower in your beef stew. That was me with yeast.

But then, you know, there was this pesky business of the cinnamon roll. Namely, that I wanted one.
-Molly Wizenberg (a.k.a. Orangette), Bon Appétit

So that was me on Saturday. Well, Friday specifically. I really wanted to make sticky buns, both because I was craving one- really craving one- but also because I had promised to bring some to tea with our friends, the Cooks and Cooneys. I had initially thought I could take the coward's way out and use frozen bread dough. Because why?

Yeast intimidates me.

I've heard too many horror stories from friends who bake about all that can go wrong with yeast- not rising, being temperamental, killed by water that was too cold or too hot- all imaginable disasters a baker could conjure. Plus, I'm not a baker. I'm not precise when I cook. What do you mean 5 oz by weight? Can't I just use a cup measure? When you say half a tsp of salt, is that a pinch? My sister's the baker in the family, the one with the patience, precision and thoughtfulness. I'm the one who goes, Oooh, let's throw all this together and see what happens! I wonder what happens if you put orange zest in here? With the pork.

Oh, and then there's that tiny thing of not having a stand-mixer. I confessed that at dinner in front of two friends who are avid cooks and they literally looked at me in disbelief. The idea that I would even contemplate making bread without a stand-mixer. Say it isn't so! But oh yes indeed. I couldn't find frozen bread dough at the store (I couldn't be a coward even if I wanted to) and so if I wanted to make some kick-ass sticky buns, I was going to have to do it from scratch.

And so I did.

It was an incredibly elemental experience, this whole making your own bread business. I kneaded everything by hand, which was quite wonderful actually. There is something pleasurably soulful about turning flour, eggs and milk turn into tender, voluptuous dough with your own hands. And don't even get me started about how unbearably good the house smelled as the buns were baking- a heady fragrance of cinnamon, orange and brown sugar. Hours after we came home, there was still a delicious, lingering scent. And the final product- better than I could have hoped for, thankfully. Trust me, taking that first bite of your own homemade ooey, gooey cinnamon bun- still warm- is as close to baking heaven as you can get...

This just might make a baker out of me yet :)

[Recipe adapted from Simply Recipes and Joanne Chang of Flour in Boston.]