- I tried out a virtual Swedish baking class via Airbnb Online Experiences.
- Professional baker Lhea was livestreamed into my kitchen – and those of the other participants across Europe – from Stockholm via Zoom to teach us how to make Swedish buns.
- I’ve always loved baking but had never made my own cinnamon buns. Although I didn’t have all the ingredients, we made it work, and I was rather proud of the 24 buns I whipped up.
- The experience costs £21 ($26) which I think is a little steep, but it’s nice to support Airbnb hosts during the coronavirus pandemic, plus a baking novice would probably have got more out of the experience than me.
- It was still a fun activity and definitely one of the coolest things I’ve done during lockdown.
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Airbnb has made its experiences virtual due to people having to stay at home.
There are all sorts of experiences on offer from around the world, and I was invited to try a press preview the day before the launch.
These being uncertain times, I opted to join the Swedish baking masterclass in the hope that we might be making my beloved cinnamon buns – normally, the virtual class would cost £21 ($26) instead of £63 ($78) in person.
Leading the session via Zoom from her kitchen in Stockholm was Lhea, and alongside a few other journalists from various European countries, I was sent an info document in advance detailing what we’d be making and what we would need.
It was good news: "I have chosen a recipe that is as Swedish as it can be, cinnamon and cardamom buns," Lhea had written.
I'm spending the coronavirus lockdown at my parents' house which fortunately benefits from a well-stocked pantry, but I still wasn't sure if we would have all the ingredients.
That would just add to the fun of the challenge though, I thought, and Lhea said she would happily provide substitutes.
Before the class began, I went down to the kitchen, asked my family to clear out for a bit, and measured out my ingredients. Despite being quite a keen amateur baker with a fair amount of experience, I was a bit nervous for some reason, but excited to crack on.
It was a really fun couple of hours and an awesome thing to do as something different during lockdown, but I think that considering you have to get all your own ingredients, the price is a little steep. Baking novices might get more out of it than I did though.
Ingredients ready, I was set to join the Zoom call, and couldn't help but think it was raelly cool to be joining other bakers in Sweden, Italy, and Spain from the English countryside.
Lhea welcomed us all from her beautiful kitchen and explained how the session would work. Instead of traditional yeasted cinnamon buns which require hours of proving, we were doing a quicker version.
Lhea had two cameras, which was useful, and asked us to wash our hands and don aprons. She also suggested we cover our laptops (sensible), and told us to preheat our ovens to 225°C or 437°F. My parents have an Aga rather than a conventional oven, but that didn't matter, and Lhea was great at providing measurements in units to suit different nationalities.
The first step was mixing 700g plain flour (a lot!), 50g sugar, a pinch of salt, 3.5 tsp baking powder, and 1 tsp cinnamon (it was meant to be cardamom but I didn't have any) together in a bowl.
We then had to measure out 250ml of milk — I somehow managed to select a bowl with a crack in it first, but fortunately, I realized before there was too much spilt milk over which to cry.
We melted 75g butter in a pan before pouring it into the milk then mixing all the wet ingredients into the dry.
"Stir everything together into a slightly sticky dough," Lhea said.
So stir I did. Only it didn't want to come together into a slightly sticky dough.
Lhea assessed my dough on camera. "You seem to be struggling, Rachel," she said.
I was instructed to keep adding water in small amounts until it came together.
Pretty sure I kneaded it too much but eventually I got there.
Next, we split the dough into quarters and rolled one piece out until it was about 3/4 cm thick. Well, supposedly. Mine was definitely thicker but hey, the rolling was hard work (possibly because my dough was a little tough from all the kneading).
Next, we slathered the dough with a generous layer of softened butter. "Please don't think about your health now," Lhea said. Noted.
We covered the butter in a layer of sugar, and then a generous sprinkle of cinnamon on top.
Then it was time to roll it up — Lhea demonstrated the technique ...
... and I have to say, I think I nailed it.
We cut our giant rolls into slices about 2-3cm thick, then Lhea showed us how to shape them into cute swirls.
We popped them into paper cases.
For the final touches, we whisked an egg, brushed it over the buns as an egg-wash, and sprinkled on some chopped nuts or more sugar — I used hazelnuts. (I also tried to ignore all the mess I was making.)
And the first batch was ready for baking! Into the oven they went. As per Lhea's instructions, we checked them after five minutes, then another five minutes or so. I think mine took around 12 to 15 minutes in total (although they were all different sizes).
We cracked on with the rest of the dough, and I was quite pleased with how they turned out! They're "rustic," OK?
I made 24 in total, and for the final batch of six I swapped out cinnamon for cocoa powder for a chocolatey twist.
While they're a lot smaller than the cinnamon buns many of us are used to getting in bakeries, Lhea said these are actually the authentic size people tend to eat in Sweden.
They didn't taste like the yeasted cinnamon buns I've had before, and were more like British scones in texture. They were certainly tasty though! Especially when warm from the oven.
My willing taste-testers also enjoyed the buns, but we all agreed they were a touch on the dry side and could do with a glaze or a cream cheese frosting perhaps.
The whole experience had taken over two hours, but it had been a lot of fun and really awesome to chat to the bakers in other countries.
The trouble with doing a baking masterclass in your own kitchen, however, is that you have to do all of the clearing up.
Still, at least you can flop straight on to the couch to nurse your cinnamon bun food baby afterward.
I'd really enjoyed the masterclass and had learned a lot about the significance of the buns in Swedish culture. It was also super cool to be baking with people across Europe, and fortunately, we didn't have any connectivity issues.
However, I do think the price is a little steep considering you have to get all your own ingredients.
Yes, you can ask Lhea questions and show her your work if you need to, but I didn't really feel I did (it doesn't take a baking pro to know that if your dough is too dry, you should add some liquid).
Of course, watching her technique is useful, but you can get that from the endless supply of cooking videos available online.
Baking novices, however, might get more out of doing a livestreamed class. It could also be a fun thing to do with your friends while you're all in different places.
I always find baking quite meditative, but personally I actually need to do it alone to get those benefits.
I also slightly wished we'd made half the quantity, because we now have only a smidge of flour left and it's proving very difficult to find in stores at the moment - as yummy as they are, 24 buns is a lot!
Ultimately, the baking masterclass was a really fun at-home activity, it was incredibly cool to livestream from Stockholm to my kitchen (and around the world), and even though the price is a little steep, it's nice to know that doing an Online Experience means you're supporting Airbnb hosts who've had their incomes slashed due to the coronavirus.