Yesterday evening Henrik made Rosinboller. We buy these all the time at the supermarket (they remind me of a British hot cross bun, but with cardamom in) but they were something else homemade. Oh my god, they are good! Now, the kitchen is normally my domain and I could not quite leave Henrik to bake in peace, I tormented him for the whole time he baked, wound him up, tickled him until he became really cross and threw me out of the kitchen! What's that all about?