Irresistible Hagabulle from Haga

You know that moment when you’re wandering through Gothenburg’s charming old neighbourhood of Haga, minding your own business, when suddenly the scent of cinnamon punches you in the face? That, my friend, is the unmistakable call of the Hagabulle — a cinnamon bun so audaciously large it looks like it might require a knife, fork, and perhaps a small construction crew to get through.

Hagabulle is Gothenburg’s answer to every pastry that ever made you feel vaguely inadequate. Originating in the Haga district, these buns aren’t just big, they’re comically, cartoonishly, almost irresponsibly enormous. And that is exactly the point. While the rest of Sweden is quietly enjoying their average kanelbullar with coffee during fika, Gothenburg was like, “Let’s just super-size this and make it a local legend.”

The kanelbulle (cinnamon bun) itself isn’t Swedish per se — it likely has German roots, with a bit of Danish influence swirled in for good measure. But Sweden claimed it with such vigour that it now gets its own holiday: Kanelbullens dag, every 4 October. Hagabullen are the raucous cousins of this more restrained variety. And while the classic version is all about a delicate swirl and a polite dusting of pearl sugar, Hagabullar are often the size of your face and demand to be eaten with two hands and zero dignity.

Not surprisingly, you can find regional riffs. While Hagabullen reigns supreme in Haga, you might stumble on similar mega-buns in other cities attempting to cash in on the trend — though purists will insist they’re imposters. There’s even the cardamom twist for those who like their buns a bit more aromatic and less sugary. Still, none carry the same cult aura as the original from Café Husaren, the reigning queen bee of Haga’s pastry scene.

So what makes it special, besides its ability to qualify as both a dessert and a small pillow? It’s not just about size. It’s the perfect balance of sweetness, the soft, cloud-like dough, the comforting swirl of cinnamon and butter that doesn’t overpower but warmly hugs your soul. There’s also a cheeky sense of pride about ordering one. It says, “Yes, I came to Gothenburg. Yes, I will eat a bun the size of a satellite dish. And no, I will not share it.”

Pair it with strong Swedish coffee — none of that watery nonsense. A dark roast brew that bites back is the perfect partner to all that fluffy, sugary goodness. If you’re feeling particularly rebellious, go for a glass of cold milk. The Swedes won’t bat an eye. Some even swear by pairing it with hot chocolate on a frosty day, turning the whole experience into a warm blanket in edible form.

Other foods to complement? Maybe just don’t. It’s like pairing a marathon with a sprint. But if you must, go for something savoury beforehand: an open-faced shrimp sandwich, a slice of Västerbotten pie, or a bowl of creamy salmon soup. That way, the Hagabulle becomes your grand finale.

Health benefits? Let’s not pretend. It’s a cinnamon bun the size of a hubcap. But mental health, oh absolutely. Few things provide the same level of joy as sitting in the Haga sunshine, pigeons lurking, cinnamon sugar stuck to your fingers, with a bun that could double as a frisbee. Just don’t eat one every day unless your cardiologist has a sense of humour.

You’ll find the real deal on the cobblestone street of Haga Nygata in Gothenburg, primarily at Café Husaren. They display the buns like trophies in the window, and people queue up just to marvel at them. Other cafés in the area have tried to replicate the magic, but like knock-off handbags, they never quite hit the same.

Right, so if you’re not in Sweden but want to bring a little Haga madness into your kitchen, here’s how you do it.

Hagabulle Recipe

Dough:

500ml whole milk (lukewarm)
100g butter, melted
100g caster sugar
1 sachet (7g) dry yeast
1 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cardamom (optional, but highly encouraged)
800g plain flour (start with 700g and add more as needed)

Hagabulle Filling:

150g softened butter
100g light brown sugar
2 tbsp ground cinnamon

Topping:

1 egg, beaten (for brushing)
Pearl sugar (or crushed sugar cubes if you must)

Mix the yeast with the warm milk and a pinch of sugar, let it froth like it’s enjoying itself. Add melted butter, sugar, salt, cardamom and most of the flour. Knead until soft, smooth, elastic — think yoga instructor, not brick. Let it rise, covered, for an hour or until doubled in size and looking proud.

Roll it out into a massive rectangle. Smear the cinnamon-butter-sugar mixture across it like you’re wallpapering a very sticky room. Roll it up lengthwise and either coil it into a spiral or slice it into enormous individual rolls.

Let them rise again, about 30 minutes. Preheat your oven to 200°C (180°C fan). Brush with egg, sprinkle with sugar, and bake for 20-25 minutes until golden and deeply smug.

Best enjoyed warm, with coffee, on a street where everyone can see your culinary triumph.

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