When I lived in Italy, I was more homesick for the States than I’d expected to be, but one part of Florentine life that kept me cheerfully distracted from those pangs was the reverent culture toward food: simple, delicious, classic foods that feed the soul. I especially looked forward to my almost-daily marketing trips to the nearby Mercato Centrale—I had my butcher, my
Cinnamon rolls were always a real tradition in my family, growing up. We made them every Christmas, and the ritual was a cherished one. But I’m such a cinnamon-sugar, carb-loving fiend that I wanted this treat—or something very similar—more than just once a year. There’s nothing like the smell of a batch of cinnamon buns baking, filling the house! I happen to like