These bitter bun experiences have taught me better than to take some blogger’s promises about the homemade bun that’s finally — really! — worth it, and so I might have skipped over my good friend Brett’s (of Trout Caviar) Bun recipe with that same cynicism if I hadn’t tried them before, and loved them. It was a hot summer afternoon picnic on Brett’s rolling Wisconsin property, Bide-a-Wee, and we were camped under a farmers market tent, trying to stay in the shade. My bun was full of wood smoked pulled pork, and while the pork was as delicious as pork usually is, the bun stole the show for me. Knowing Brett the buns would have to be homemade — I don’t think he’s ever served me bread he hadn’t baked himself — but I asked nonetheless if he had made the buns, incredulous. He had. I’m too discreet to ask a baker for his recipes, and with Brett’s Real Bread no longer for sale at the farmers market, I figured my only chances to savor these buns would be on the odd invitation out to Bide-a-Wee.

And then Brett asked the world check out his buns.

After that lunch in Wisconsin I didn’t need any more convincing to try the recipe. I followed it as Brett printed, although I may not have kneaded it quite as long as I should have because the dough was quite sticky and difficult for me to work with. In any case, I was planning an overnight fermentation in the fridge, which can cover over a lot of under-kneading sins. The buns came out of the oven the next day and were as good as I remembered.

What makes these buns so special? It’s the texture. They hit a perfect middle road: chewy enough to feel like something and absorb juices without disintegrating, yet light enough not to distract from the main event, located between them. These buns are suitable for a thick and juicy steakhouse burger but won’t diminish a diner-style slider, either. They even work with my favorite veggie burgers which, while delicious, are infamous for squishing out the back-side of lesser buns.

If inferior buns — from the store or your oven — have left you jaded and cynical, I am writing this post to tell you there is hope. There is truth. There is Le Bun.

It’s a shame, too, because what  better time for the comforts and reassurances of a fresh-baked loaf of bread than after a day of the humiliations of office labor? No better time, that’s what. So today I decided to stop whining about my problems and  actually do something about them: I took a friend with me to work.

We had a nice bike ride through the snow, my bread dough and I, enjoying the subtly rutted and newly slushy streets and trails of Minneapolis. One nice thing is that I did not have to worry about my dough fermenting prematurely during my ride, since the ambient temperature in Minnesota right now is far colder than a refrigerator.

When I arrived at work, the dough went straight to the fridge and I was off to a dedicated and productive day. I only allowed my focus to break away from my labors at the stroke of three, when it was time to take the dough out to warm up. I set it by the water cooler, where I am sure it had many conversations with my coworkers about the latest happenings in sports and popular culture.

Soon enough five o’clock rolled around, and it was time for my dough and I to end our day on the job. Just a short bike ride home separated me from baking and weekday-bread-induced bliss.

Since I knew I wouldn’t have much time to shape and proof the dough once I got home, I had planned on making a simple bread, and it doesn’t get much simpler in terms of shaping than focaccia: just take the wet mass of dough, plop it down in a sheet pan coated with olive oil, pour on some more olive oil, rest a half hour, and then bake at 425ºF for about 20 minutes, until the bread looks brown and crispy. If you’re wondering about my dough recipe, it was:

• 12 oz AP flour
• 12 oz whole wheat flour
• ½ tsp yeast
• 1 Tbsp salt
• 18 oz water

With the overnight fermentation, it’s not that important to knead this dough — a good thing, too, because at 75% hydration kneading would be a challenge.

Proofing and baking the dough gave me the perfect amount of time to put together the rest of dinner. The bread came out very well, and much sooner than would have been possible without bringing it to the office. I think I’ve found my new commute partner.

Over the weekend I reorganized our spices, a project that involved transferring our dried herbs and spices into new jars. An unexpected perk of the process was the opportunity to take in the aromas of each. The wafts of cardamom seeds stayed with me through the day on Monday, and by evening I could no longer stand it; I announced that I would like to go to The American Swedish Institute for a visit to the Kaffestuga for cardamom rolls.

Tom, the in-house baker, immediately asked, “What do we need? Let’s make them!” I pulled The Swedish Table by Helene Henderson off the shelf and opened to the index where I found “cardamom rolls” under the letter C. To make your own Kaffebröd med Kardemumma you’ll need sugar, water, yeast, milk, cream, butter, flour, salt, freshly ground cardamom, cinnamon, eggs, almonds and pearl sugar. Pearl sugar and almonds, the last items on the list, were not on hand, which is why the rolls look a bit bare.

Tom went to work while I read in the living room and had the rolls ready just before bed, warming the kitchen and filling the apartment with the smells of cinnamon and cardamom. Warmed just before breakfast, the rolls made a wonderful start to a January morgon.

As with so many things bread-related, the first place to turn is Peter Reinhart’s The Bread Baker’s Apprentice. His bagel recipe takes two days: one day to mix and shape the dough, an overnight refrigerated fermentation, and the second day to boil and bake the bagels.

The dough consists of a sponge (1 tsp or .11 oz instant yeast, 4 cups or 18 oz bread flour, 20 oz water) that is mixed and left to rest two hours, until bubbly. To the sponge is added another ½ tsp or .055 oz instant yeast, 3 ¾ cups or 17 oz bread flour, 2 ¾ tsp or .7 oz salt and 1 Tbsp or .5 oz barley malt syrup.

With a total of 35 oz of bread flour hydrated by only 20 oz of water (57% hydration) this is a very thick, heavy dough. In the days before I owned a stand mixer I would labor for ten minutes kneading this dough into shape, and it was tough. A stand mixer with a dough hook makes the kneading easier, but be careful: the thickness of this dough will heavily tax the mixer’s motor and on weaker models could even cause failure. Pay attention to how your mixer is holding up throughout the process.

After the dough is kneaded together — whether by hand or by machine — it should be immediately divided into balls of 3.5 oz each. Rest the balls for 20 minutes under a damp towel, and then comes the fun part: shaping. There are two methods: the dough can be rolled into a thick rope and then doubled back on itself to form a ring, or — and this is my preferred method — you can punch a hole in the center of a dough ball and gradually enlarge the hole around your thumb, rotating the bagel. After each bagel has been formed it should be placed on a parchment-lined sheet pan.

Reinhart recommends letting the formed bagels rest at room temperature for ten to twenty minutes until a bagel dropped in a tub of water floats after ten seconds. When I was last making bagels I completely overlooked this step and the bagels came out fine, so you can do with it what you will. In any case, the bagels should end up covered in plastic wrap and in the refrigerator overnight.

If you’re very industrious and/or intent on having fresh bagels for breakfast, the next morning wake up early, set a large, wide pot of water to boil and heat the oven to 500ºF. When the water is boiling, place as many bagels as will fit comfortably — no crowding! — in the water; the bagels can come straight out of the refrigerator. Boil for one to two minutes on the first side, then flip and boil another one to two minutes on the second side (boil longer for chewier bagels). After both sides have been boiled, place the bagels back on the parchment-lined sheet pan — maybe sprinkled with a little cornmeal in the intervening time to prevent sticking — and top as desired. I sprinkled on sesame seeds or dehydrated onion in this case. Continue boiling and topping all the bagels.

After every bagel is boiled and topped, they are ready to be baked: bake 10 minutes total, rotating the pans halfway through. Allow to cool 15 minutes before eating. They are great fresh and also freeze very well; cutting the bagels in half before freezing facilitates easy future toasting.

Two days making bagels might seem like a lot of time, but it’s not actually that much active, working time. And when compared to the alternative — trying to navigate the minefield of the bagel shop preferences of your friends and loved ones — it’s a fairly easy choice to make. After all, after two days spent making them, nobody will have the nerve to tell you your bagels aren’t the best.

Every Christmas my father prepares buñuelos for the family on the mornings of the 24, 25, and 26 so that all can have their share—no matter their arrival time. A round Colombian cheese bread, buñuelos are made from corn starch, shredded queso campesino, milk, and a little salt and sugar (we first mentioned them here). They are made from a very wet dough, as you’ll see below, and fried to perfection. The dough-balls turn naturally in the hot (but not too hot) oil, and can be helped along with the tap of a chopstick or the end of a wooden spoon. They’ll be firm to the touch when ready to be removed from the oil, and are best eaten warm. As kids we’d sometimes have them with peanut butter and milk. As a lover of sausage biscuits, this year another idea occurred to me…

Enjoyed for the first time today, “Buñuelo Sliders” proved to be a very repetible experiment.

Update: For the recipe, see comments below.