So, You Want to Bake a Giant Cinnamon Roll Cake?

I have to confess right off the bat—this cake has seen me through birthdays, midwinter slumps, and those “what on earth do I take to brunch?” panics. The first time I made a giant cinnamon roll cake, I underestimated the power of cinnamon and spent the better part of an hour picking sugar out of my hair. (Long story. Don’t ask.) But I’ve never looked back. This one’s a crowd-pleaser—even my grumpy uncle, who “doesn’t do sweets,” sneaks a monstrous slice when nobody’s watching. It’s like a cinnamon hug with a side of sticky fingers, and it smells ridiculous in the best way.

Why I Keep Coming Back to This Cake

Honestly, I make this when I need applause (or just a little extra love from my family—bribery by baked goods totally works here). My kiddos go wild for it, especially because they think it’s funny to watch a normal cinnamon roll turn into something the size of a dinner plate. And for me, there’s some satisfaction in how beautifully imperfect it always turns out. If it cracks a bit, who cares? Just call it rustic! On busy mornings, I’ve even made a half-hearted version with pre-made dough (not really the same, but in a pinch—desperate times, desperate measures).

What You’ll Need (And What You Can Swap Out)

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (I’ve done half bread flour when I ran out, and nobody complained)
2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast (or 1 packet, though I once used active dry with a bit more patience)
1/2 cup whole milk (but honestly, I’ve used 2% or oat milk when that’s all we had)
1/4 cup granulated sugar (my grandma would use brown sugar, just to say it was more “homely”)
1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted (I sometimes use salted if that’s what’s handy, just skip the pinch of salt then)
1 large egg (room temp makes it easier, but let’s be real—I never remember in time)
1/2 teaspoon salt
For the filling: 1/2 cup softened butter, 3/4 cup brown sugar, 2-3 tablespoons cinnamon (yeah, I use the big tablespoon—no shame!)
For the frosting: 4 oz cream cheese, 1/4 cup softened butter, 1 cup powdered sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla (Or just go wild and make a simple glaze if cream cheese isn’t your thing)

Let’s Get Rolling (Directions)

Warm your milk a tad—lukewarm, like bathwater for a baby. Don’t go boiling; you want to keep the yeast in its comfort zone.
In a big bowl (I use my trusty ceramic one, but a mixing bowl’s fine), toss in flour, yeast, sugar, and salt. Give it a quick mix. Pour in milk, melted butter, and the egg. Mix with a wooden spoon until it gets shaggy; then I usually switch to my hands. It gets flour everywhere but so what?
Knead for about 6–8 minutes, until it’s smooth and bouncy. Got a stand mixer? Now’s the time to haul it out. If not, elbows up—it’s good therapy.
Pop the dough in a greased bowl, cover with a tea towel, and let it chill in a warm spot for about an hour, until doubled. (Confession: sometimes I rush this and regret it. Patience is a virtue…)
Meanwhile, mix your brown sugar and cinnamon. Smear the softened butter on your (now risen) dough after you’ve rolled it into a big rectangle—about 16×12 inches, but really, who’s measuring? I use a wine bottle as a rolling pin. Works like a charm.
Sprinkle on your cinnamon-sugar. Here’s where I usually taste-test the mix… for science, obviously.
Cut the dough into thick strips, maybe 2–3 inches wide. Roll up one strip like a snail, then plop it in the middle of a greased 9-inch cake tin or springform pan. Wrap the next strip around it, and keep going till it’s one huge swirl. Don’t stress if it looks lopsided. That’s its style. If the dough resists, let it rest for a few minutes—it’s stubborn sometimes.
Cover loosely and give it 30 more mins to puff up a bit.
Bake at 350°F (175°C) for 28–32 minutes, until golden and the aroma starts a family migration to the kitchen. If it’s browning too fast, toss a bit of foil on top (or sheet—I’m not picky).
Cool for a few because molten sugar is no joke.
Whip up your icing while the cake cools: beat the cream cheese and butter till smooth, slowly mix in powdered sugar and vanilla. Smear generously over the cake. Actually, maybe not too generously at first if you want that gooey swirl to show off.

Random Notes (From the Messy Trenches)

If you forget to soften the butter, no worries—tiny cubes spread fine or zap it gently, but careful or you get puddles.
I once tried doubling the filling. Too much of a good thing; it overflowed and made my oven all sorts of sticky.
Bake time can be so random depending on your oven. The edges should be golden, but the center staying soft is just right in my book.

If You Wanna Mix Things Up (My Experiments)

Swapped half the cinnamon for cardamom once—SO good. Like a whole new cake.
I tried adding chopped pecans. The crunch was great, though my son said it felt too “grown-up.”
One time I used orange zest in the filling. Not my favorite. Maybe lemon would work? Or not. Up to you!
For a vegan version, oat milk and plant-based butter plus a simple vanilla glaze instead of cream cheese—works pretty well.

Do You Need Special Tools?

Okay, so a stand mixer makes life easier, not gonna lie, but elbow grease works! No rolling pin? As I said, a washed wine bottle does the job (just don’t drop it—ask me how I know). Any 9- or 10-inch round tin will do, but a springform helps if you want a neater exit. That said, I have managed with a regular cake pan lined with parchment, so don’t stress if you’re a bit skint on fancy gear.

How to Store It (Though It Disappears Fast!)

In theory, cover the cake and keep at room temp for 1-2 days—airtight container and all that jazz. You can fridge it for up to 5 days, but frankly, leftovers never last more than a few hours here. If you want to freeze slices, wrap them tight and pop in the toaster oven to revive. Not quite the same as fresh but good enough for a midnight snack run.

Serving Time (Traditions and Shenanigans)

I usually plop the whole thing on a big wooden board, drizzle extra icing if I’m feeling showy, and let people carve out their own piece. Best with a big mug of coffee on a dreary morning. Sometimes we make a ritual of tearing pieces off and arguing about who gets the gooey middle (hint: it’s always me). If you’re going all-in, add a scoop of vanilla ice cream, trust me!

Oops, Almost Forgot: Lessons Learned

I once tried to make the dough rise faster on a radiator—ended up with half-cooked outer layers and a sad, doughy middle. Not my finest hour. So, give that dough a bit of love and time. And I’ve found if I try to frost while it’s piping hot, everything just slides right off. A bit of patience means you actually get to taste the icing, not just chase it off the pan.

Some Real-Life FAQs People Have Actually Asked Me (More or Less)

Can I use premade dough?: Short answer: Yep, totally. It won’t be quite as soft or homey as making it from scratch, but if you’re in a mad rush or just can’t deal with yeast, go for it. You’ll still get that giant cinnamon roll wow factor.
How do I know if my dough’s risen enough?: Press it with a fingertip. If the dough springs back slowly and leaves a slight indent, you’re golden. Too much bounce-back? Give it a few more minutes.
Can I make this ahead?: Absolutely. Actually, I kinda think this tastes even better the next day (maybe I’m weird). Just cover and rewarm in the oven for a few. Or serve it at room temp, which is nice for lazy mornings.
Is the icing necessary?: Well, you could skip it but then it’s just not the same. My sister eats it plain, but the rest of us pile on extra—no regrets!
What if I mess it up?: Join the club! Seriously though, as long as it’s baked through and swirly, you’re in business. Cracks, leaks, lopsidedness—they’re all part of the charm.
Where do you get your cinnamon?: Great question! I usually buy mine form Penzeys, but really anything fragrant and fresh works. Sometimes I grab what’s on offer from the local market.
Do you recommend a specific cream cheese?: Honestly, I love Philadelphia Cream Cheese—it’s classic, but supermarket brand is fine, too.

And, Just for a Laugh…

You ever have one of those days when you spill half the flour on the floor, forget the timer, then realize you’re out of coffee—and yet somehow baking this just puts everything right? I swear, it must be some kind of cinnamon magic. Anyway, enough rambling, go make your house smell like happiness! If you want a visual walk-through, check out Sally’s Baking Addiction’s version—she’s got step-by-step photos that are actually helpful (especially if you don’t mind drooling on your keyboard a little).