A Grand Ole Time Being Neighborly

So Aunt Missy, I paid heed to your request. I made The Pioneer Woman’s cinnamon rolls.

This is an official announcement: I do requests. If there’s a recipe you’ve been wanting to try but don’t wanna put on your game face to tackle it, just ask me. Think of me as your test kitchen.

PW’s recipe yields SEVEN CAKE PANS FULL of cinnamon rolls. Her reasoning? When you make cinnamon rolls, you should pass them out to all your friends, of course.

I could have halved the recipe, but I didn’t. Instead, I took PW’s advice, bought six disposable cake pans (7-6=1 pan left for Brent and me), and made cinnamon rolls for the neighbors in our complex.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but Brent and I have been living in our complex for over a year now and we have not met our neighbors. How unfriendly of us, I know. I thought steaming pans of cinnamon rolls at their doorsteps would make up for it, though. I told Brent of my scheme to introduce myself to our neighbors on a Saturday morning by bringing them homemade cinnamon rolls, and whether or not he liked the idea, he agreed to it, even telling me he was going to come with me because he didn’t want me going alone. Sweet guy.

As soon as the first batches of cinnamon rolls came out of the oven and were adorned with their frosting, Brent and I took them to neighbors. Of course, our closest neighbors didn’t answer our knock.

We moved to the next door. I knocked…I waited…I heard a bit of stirring inside. The door opened up, and a groggy, confused-looking college-age guy peered out at us, with a face that said, “What in the world!?” (It was almost noon by that time, mind you, so we were in no way at fault for waking him up…right?) I was pretty embarrassed that we had apparently disturbed his sleep, so as sweetly as I could, I told him we were his neighbors from down the hall, I had been baking all day, and thought he might enjoy a fresh pan of cinnamon rolls. Honestly, and to my offense (at the moment, I’m over it now), he looked like he didn’t want them, but he begrudgingly took them and said thank you.

On to the next door, with my confidence level down three notches.

The next door didn’t answer either.

The fourth door: no answer. As we were about to move on to the next door, one of my laundry-room acquaintances walked down the hallway, the father of a family that I had been praying all week to run in to in order to give them the cinnamon rolls, as I didn’t know which apartment they lived in. I offered him the pan in my hands, but before he took it he laughed and asked if the person living inside the door on which I had just knocked would be mad if it was discovered I had given someone else the cinnamon rolls. He ended up taking them though, and was very grateful to receive them and took them back to his family right away.

My morale rose.

Fifth door: FINALLY Brent and I found a neighborly neighbor where he should be: in his apartment. This guy was really pleased at our kindness, amazed that the WHOLE PAN was all for him. He chit-chatted with us for a bit and welcomed us to the complex. We had to sheepishly admit that we’d been living next door to him for over a year already. I hope to run into him again.

I skipped back to our apartment to get the next batch of rolls. Brent laughed at how excited I got over other people enjoying our gift.

The sixth door we knocked on opened up to a really nice looking lady who, upon hearing that there was a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls all for her, let out a short, nervous giggle like a girl does when a man she knows is WAY out of her league asks her out. We could sense the salivation going on as she gratefully accepted the cinnamon rolls. We chit-chatted with her as well.

After meeting that nice lady, we had two more pans to give away. One of them we wrapped up all cute with a card and put in front of our closest neighbors’ door. The other we took with us into the car and drove a couple blocks to the home of one of Brent’s friends from work to give to his family. The rolls were eagerly received.

It was a bit of a nerve-wracking morning for a stranger-shy girl like me, but after the fact, I think it went quite well. Oh, and I mention that the cinnamon rolls were DELICIOUS? Surprisingly, they were simpler and easier to make than I thought they’d be, and they turned out fantastic. Even delicious the second or third day, heated up individually for a bit in the microwave. They're not as difficult or complicated to make as it would seem, once you make them. In my case, I made the dough the evening before, and woke up Saturday morning to finish them. I think it's definitely a keeper-recipe.

So far the others in my complex seem to agree. I ran in to the father I was talking about earlier, and he stopped me to thank me again for the cinnamon rolls, saying they were really good stuff. He asked if I was a chef; I giggled much like that nice lady had earlier, because I would LOVE to be considered a chef someday, and told him no, I was just experimenting with a new recipe. He said if I ever experiment again, he would be there to taste-test.

Brent and I have also separately run into our closest neighbors (the ones on whose front door step we left the cinnamon rolls), and in addition to taping a really sweet thank you note on our door, they have thanked each of us in person and told us how much they enjoyed the treat.

Here is some behind-the-scenes footage of the cinnamon roll event. This video series is called, "Cinnamon Rolls: The Making Of." (The videos are pretty boring, just warning you. Except for the first one...it's kind of funny cuz I don't realize I'm being recorded till near the end. And I have one still to upload, but I'm waiting on YouTube to make it available.)