Butter and Rest: the Birthday Edition

In honor of the sweet 16 of Quail the First, which fortuitously falls on a Sunday this year, today I shall offer you her (and our) favorite and best special breakfast, and the perfect addition to a Sabbath breakfast feast (which is a thing you need in your life): the pecan sticky buns.

So, I was on the verge of a full-on Anne of Green Gables steaming pile of sentiment about the fog of a chill October morning, of the flickering candle light and the deep pink sunrise creating tree shadows on the horizon, the aroma of this morning’s apple golden raisin studded bread pudding, made sweet and complex with whole wheat challah bread… All of this was mere moments away from being yours, and you would have rolled your eyes at me and then offered to come by for breakfast. It would have been lovely.

BUT.

Tragedy struck in the middle of my typing! Have I talked about my stand mixer, Annika? Hey, don’t judge. Some of you refer to your dogs as “fur babies”. Hello, Pot. My name is Kettle. Well, it turns out that at one point in our adventures, we were working for a really ethically questionable company and when they asked us to leave, they did so with more money than we had ever seen in one place (probably to this day, come to think). It took us awhile to figure out that they were hoping that would keep us from talking. Oops. Well, anyway, it meant that when we moved here, there was a bit of slush in our savings, my Kitchenaid mixer of many years had died, and I invested in an Ankarsrum mixer. I know this is not important to many of you, so I will limit my gushing. It is butter yellow and the best kitchen purchase I have ever made.

It was happily mixing a dough for Sabbath feast dessert a few minutes ago when suddenly CRACK — my plastic mixing bowl broke!! Yelp! Help! Murder! Mayhem! You haven’t seen someone google a thing so fast since Hunter Biden needed… eh, never mind. Let’s keep this classy.

So. My groove is off. Fall, yeah yeah, make the sticky buns. No seriously though. It doesn’t have to be your sweet 16 to justify celebration — death has been swallowed up with life. These sticky buns sit, tomb-like, in the fridge overnight and when you bake them in the morning, they rise. Eat and be reminded — He arose! So will you.