The only thing as Swedish as a meatball is a cinnamon bun. They are everywhere. Every coffee shop, grocery store, and gas station offer the same spiced spiral – almost identical in their look and flavor. They are generally about 3 inches in diameter, an inch or two high, and topped with large lumps of pearled sugar. And for the most part, they are not that exciting.
I’m used to the big, doughy, syrupy, Cinnabon-style cinnamon rolls popular in the US. The kind that are drowned in cream-cheese frosting that can completely incapacitate even the strongest pancreas. By comparison, these buns are hard and small and bready and not very filling – a fact that makes it all the more baffling when Emil comes home with a freezer bag full of them.
If I could get over my preconceived idea of a cinnamon roll, I’m sure that I would enjoy these just fine. They’re more like a cinnamon sweet bread or a scone, after all. But for now, the cultural gap is just too wide between my expectations and reality, so while Emil enjoys his cinnamon bun, I’ll enjoy my frosted brownie.