Swedish Cardamom Buns (Kardemummabullar)
knotted, sugar-crusted buns that smell of a Stockholm bakery
Swedish Cardamom Buns (Kardemummabullar)
Ingredients
- 500 g (4 cups) strong white bread flour
- 80 g (⅓ cup) caster sugar
- 7 g (1 sachet) fast-action dried yeast
- 1 tsp fine salt
- 2 tsp freshly ground cardamom, plus extra for the filling
- 250 ml (1 cup) warm whole milk
- 80 g (⅓ cup) unsalted butter, softened, for the dough
- 1 egg, for the dough
- 100 g (7 tbsp) unsalted butter, very soft, for the filling
- 70 g (⅓ cup) soft light brown sugar, for the filling
- 2 tsp ground cardamom, for the filling
- 1 egg, beaten, to glaze
- 2 tbsp pearl sugar and extra ground cardamom, to finish
Method
- Mix flour, sugar, yeast, salt and cardamom. Warm the milk, then add it with the softened butter and egg to form a soft dough.
- Knead 10 minutes until smooth and elastic. Cover and prove 1 hour until doubled.
- Mix the filling butter, brown sugar and cardamom into a soft paste.
- Roll the dough into a 40 x 50 cm rectangle. Spread the filling evenly, then fold in three like a letter.
- Cut the folded dough into 12 long strips. Stretch each gently, then twist and knot around two fingers, tucking the end underneath.
- Place on lined trays, cover and prove 45 minutes until puffy.
- Glaze with beaten egg and bake at 220°C (200°C fan) for 12–15 minutes until golden.
- Brush the hot buns with a little syrup or melted butter, then scatter with pearl sugar and a dusting of cardamom.
If you have ever walked into a Swedish bakery, you will recognise the smell before you see anything: warm, sweet, and unmistakably perfumed with cardamom. It is the scent of fika, that sacred Swedish institution of stopping everything for coffee and something baked. For a long time I was a cinnamon bun loyalist, but one trip and one paper bag of kardemummabullar later, I switched sides completely. The cinnamon bun is comforting; the cardamom bun is sophisticated, floral, almost grown-up, and now it is the one I make when I want the house to smell like somewhere I would rather be.
1 Fika and the cult of the bun
Fika is not just a coffee break, it is a small daily ritual of pausing and being a bit civilised about it, and the bun is its constant companion. Swedes take their bullar seriously, to the point that there is a national Cinnamon Bun Day in October. The cardamom bun is the slightly more refined cousin, beloved by bakers who want the spice to do the talking. It is built on exactly the same enriched, milky dough, but cardamom runs through every layer, the dough, the filling, and the topping, so the flavour is deep rather than incidental.
The knotted shape is part of the charm and part of the point. Those twists and folds create surfaces that catch the sugar and bake into crisp, caramelised edges, while the middle stays soft. They look impressive and complicated. They are not.
2 The twist: cardamom three ways, freshly ground
Cardamom is the whole personality of this bun, so it is worth treating well. My one strong piece of advice is to grind your own. Cardamom loses its fragrance fast once ground, and the pre-ground stuff in jars is a pale ghost of the real thing. Buy green pods, crack them open, and grind the little black seeds in a pestle and mortar or a spice grinder. The difference is night and day: vivid, citrusy, almost piny, with a warmth that fills the kitchen.
I layer it in three places. Into the dough itself, so the base flavour is built in. Into the buttery filling, where it goes rich and almost savoury against the brown sugar. And finally a dusting over the top, hitting you the moment you bite in. This is the same logic I use with garlic in savoury cooking, hit the dish at more than one stage and the flavour feels rounded instead of one-note. Three modest additions of fresh cardamom beat one heavy-handed shake of stale powder every time.
3 The fold-and-knot method
The filling here is not rolled up like a Chelsea bun. Instead you spread it across the rolled-out dough and fold the whole sheet into thirds, like a letter, creating layers. Then you slice the folded dough into strips, and each strip gets twisted and knotted. The technique sounds fiddly written down, but in the hand it is quick: stretch a strip a little, wind it around two fingers a couple of times, and tuck the loose end underneath. Even your wonky first attempts will bake up looking handsome, because the dough puffs and the imperfections turn into character.
Keep the dough soft and well kneaded so it is stretchy enough to twist without tearing. If a knot looks a mess, just press it back together; once proved and baked, nobody will know.
4 Glaze, prove, and patience
Two proves matter here. The first builds flavour and structure in the bulk dough; the second, after shaping, gives the buns their light, tender crumb. Do not rush either, especially the second, because under-proved buns bake up dense and tight.
The finishing touches make them. An egg glaze gives a glossy, golden crust. A brush of syrup or melted butter the moment they leave the oven keeps them moist and helps the pearl sugar stick. Pearl sugar, those little white nuggets that do not melt, gives the classic crunchy bakery finish, and a last whisper of ground cardamom over the top is the difference between good and properly authentic.
Eat them warm, with strong coffee, ideally with no plans for the next twenty minutes. They are best on the day but freeze well; a few seconds in a warm oven brings a frozen one back to life. Make a batch on a grey Sunday, put the kettle on, and call it fika. Your kitchen will smell, for hours, exactly like the best bakery you have ever been in.
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