I’ll be honest with you—I never planned on being that person who hoarded jars of sourdough starter in the fridge. But then I caught the bug (like everyone and their neighbor did, right?) and now I’ve got a wild little collection of jars burbling away. Problem is, sourdough discard can get out of hand faster than you can say “just one more loaf.” That’s how these cinnamon rolls happened—one Saturday, standing there in a pair of fuzzy slippers, I realized the kitchen was practically begging me to invent a use for all that discard. My niece calls these “cloud buns,” which is cute, but know this: everyone fights over the gooey, swirly centers and there are never leftovers!

Oh, and speaking of fighting—my brother once accused me of hiding the last roll under a napkin. I neither confirm nor deny.

Why I Keep Coming Back to These Rolls

I make a fresh batch when I notice my starter about to stage a rebellion (seriously, it’s like a pet). My family goes a bit bonkers for them, especially when the smell creeps down the hallway on a Sunday morning. Actually, I find it works better if I use the discard when it’s at peak tanginess—the flavor just kind of, I dunno, pops? And not to sound dramatic but these are my solution for any stressful week; kneading dough is almost as good as therapy, minus the copay. (Plus, who says no to sweet, sticky icing before noon?)

What You’ll Need (Don’t Stress Too Much!)

2 cups (250g) all-purpose flour (though I once swapped in a half cup of whole wheat—don’t tell my mom; she claims it’s sacrilege, but I thought it added some oomph)
1 cup (240g) active sourdough discard (I’ve used discard straight form the fridge, works great)
3 tablespoons sugar (sometimes I’ll do brown for a more caramelly thing)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (120ml) whole milk, gently warmed (almond milk in a pinch—don’t ask me about oat milk…it got weird, fast!)
1 large egg
4 tablespoons (56g) unsalted butter, melted (I’ve reduced this to 3 tablespoons when I’m trying to be “good,” whatever that means—I regretted it)
1 heaping teaspoon instant yeast (trust me, you want the rise)
Filling: 4 tablespoons (56g) softened unsalted butter
Filling: 1/2 cup (100g) brown sugar (granulated works, but brown’s, like, buttery)
Filling: 1.5 tablespoons ground cinnamon (sometimes two, if it’s a Monday)
Optional: 1/2 cup chopped pecans or walnuts (my aunt swears by raisins, but I’ve never had the heart)
Icing: 1 cup (120g) powdered sugar
Icing: 2 tablespoons cream cheese, softened (skip this if you hate cream cheese, no judgment!)
Icing: 1 tablespoon milk (add drops until it’s pourable—stop when you like the consistency, honestly)

Here’s How I Actually Do It

First, if you accidentally left your butter in the freezer (like me, more than once), give it a gentle zap in the microwave until soft but not melted—learned that the hard way.
In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, and salt. Add the sourdough discard, warm milk, egg, melted butter, and instant yeast. Stir with a wooden spoon (mine’s got a crack in it, still works) until a shaggy dough forms. If it looks like a scrappy mess, you’re doing it right.
Knead on a lightly floured surface for about 8–10 minutes, or until it gets smooth and elastic. If your arms ache, swap with a friendly helper or do what I do—rest for five, tell yourself it’s for “gluten development.”
Pop the dough in a greased bowl, cover with a tea towel (the cat once made off with mine, so I’ve used a plate in a pinch), and let it rise until doubled—about 1 to 1.5 hours. If your kitchen’s cold, I sometimes put it in the oven with just the light on. Don’t stress timing.
Punch it down for a second—oddly satisfying—then roll it into a big rectangle, about 10×14 inches or so (no ruler? My handspan is about 7 inches, so I estimate!).
Spread the softened butter all over the dough. Sprinkle the brown sugar and cinnamon as evenly as you can. Top with nuts or raisins if you’re feeling wild.
Roll it up tightly, starting from the long edge—like a sleeping bag you actually want to eat. Slice into 9 comfy spirals. Sometimes I go for 12, but then I always regret how tiny they are.
Arrange in a lined or buttered 8×8-inch baking dish (or whatever you’ve got—once used a pie pan, turned out a little lopsided but still delicious). Let them rise again, covered, for about 30–40 minutes. If you forget about them and they double, lucky you.
Bake at 350°F (175°C) for 23–28 minutes, until golden and puffy but not too dark. This is where I usually sneak a middle bun for “testing.”
Mix the icing ingredients by hand or use a tiny whisk if you like pretending you’re fancy. Spread over warm rolls, so it melts into the cracks. Bliss.

Little Notes from my Kitchen Fumbles

The dough is stickier than some other recipes, but don’t add too much flour—embrace the mess. It sorts itself out, promise.
If your filling leaks out in the oven, just scoop it up and spoon it back on. I call it “bonus caramel.”
Actually, adding the icing while the rolls are still hot makes a gooey mess—but it’s the best mess.

Experiments I’ve Tried (One Was…Not Great)

I once swapped the cinnamon for cardamom and orange zest. My friend raved. Kids? Not so much.
Tried baking them in a muffin tin for “cinnamon roll cupcakes”—they stuck like glue. 10/10 would not recommend unless you’re into chipping bread from pans (I mean, up to you!)
Adding chopped apple to the filling? Actually fantastic, especially in fall.

What You Might Want For This (But Don’t Panic)

Mixing bowl (any old bowl works—as long as it’s bigger than your head)
Sturdy wooden spoon or spatula
Rolling pin (but honestly, a clean wine bottle is my go-to in an emergency)
Baking dish (8×8 inch, but pie dishes, cake pans…all fair game in my world)
Sharp knife or dental floss for cutting nice swirls (never minty floss though, haha!)

How To Store Them (If You’re Lucky Enough To Have Leftovers)

Supposedly, you can cover the cooled rolls and keep at room temp for up to two days. I find they’re still tender the next morning, especially if you zap them in the microwave for 10 seconds. But—real talk—leftovers have yet to survive more than a single day here. Freezing? Wrap tightly and thaw overnight before reheating. If you remember. (I never do.)

How We Eat Ours (Serving Suggestions)

We love ours warm with extra icing, ideally eaten from the pan with forks like savages. Or…slice and serve with really cold milk or strong coffee. At Christmas, I sneak in rosemary sprigs for a little green (looks fancier than it is!).

What I’ve Learned The Hard Way (Pro Tips)

I once rushed the second rise, and the rolls came out dense as bricks—don’t do it! Let them puff up, even if you’re hangry.
Beware overbaking. These rolls go from golden to “crispbread” faster than you’d think.
If using whole wheat flour like my earlier attempt, maybe add a splash more milk or risk a dry dough. (Regret is a poor condiment.)

Questions I Get Asked (or Texted) Most

Q: Can I use fed sourdough starter instead of discard?
A: You can, though the flavor gets less tangy—maybe add a teeny splash of lemon juice for a kick if you’re missing that bite.

Q: Do I absolutely need instant yeast?
A: I mean, technically you could go old-school and use just the sourdough for rising, but breakfast might turn into lunch. I get impatient!

Q: Can I use bread flour?
A: Sure, the texture will be chewier—sometimes I even prefer it, but all-purpose is easier to find around here.

Q: Why is my dough so sticky?
A: Totally normal! Wet hands help. On second thought, maybe flour up a bit, but don’t pack it in—fluffy’s the aim!

Q: Can I double this?
A: Yep, but use a big pan or two regular pans. Or just make half now, half tomorrow…supposedly for “portion control.” (Let me know if that works for you because it’s never worked for me.)

Alright. Hope you have fun, make a mess, and get to eat the softest, swirliest sourdough discard cinnamon rolls—maybe even share them! Or, you know, not. Your secret’s safe with me.

Sourdough Discard Cinnamon Rolls recipe