We were at Ikea over the weekend and I picked up a refrigerated box of cinnamon rolls, even though my sixth sense for bread immediately told me they wouldn’t be much above what I’d find in a grocery store. I could not help it: I wanted lingonberries and maple syrup and a limited-square-footage apartment with a cozy little nook for my bed. It was a relief that once heated up, the cinnamon rolls reconstituted nicely, presenting a contrast between the soft and heavy rolls and the solidified bands of sugar for frosting. They make a good accompaniment to reading Karl Ove Knausgaard, who has left me breathless in suspense as I wait to find out who will be at the party that he’s walking through the snow to attend, and unable to put down until I know exactly what the view is like outside the author’s office window.
(Photo: Hartley Park, Duluth, Minnesota.)
365 Days of Food 