Milk Line Rolls - Part 8
A well-known blogger just posted a roll recipe from another well-known social media and tv personality. Old School Dinner Rolls. They use a bit more flour than I do, but it's essentially the same recipe. The author and publisher of the roll recipe is from Louisiana.
And it’s called Kissingcrust. It’s that not-laminated-but-pull-apart-able soft bit in between two rolls. Kissingcrust.
Turns out this blog was posted in early October, several weeks before I started this odyssey, but I was just now seeing it, well into December.
The timing.
A few weeks passed without any roll-baking and my synchronistic dreams reshaped themselves into adrenaline and cortisol producing box office hits with ridiculous plot lines that induced morning headaches. Meanwhile, Sean and I agreed that we’d drop off rolls to The Auntie’s Christmas Supper (masked and social-distanced) on the 25th. On Christmas Eve, I dreamt that I was volunteering for hospice patients, something I’m planning to do IRL in the new year. I don’t remember anything else from that dream, but I woke up feeling good.
That morning Karen messages me that she had a Matrix-style dream. I stood up amid the chaos and with a strong voice commanded, “PEACE.”
I started mixing the ingredients.
Knead, rise, punch it down, form…
I decided to recreate a tradition from Mardi Gras, where a tiny plastic baby is baked into the dough of the King Cake. Whoever gets the baby is responsible for bringing the King Cake next year (in addition to religious relevance). Instead of a plastic baby, I tucked three chocolate chips into a piece of dough as I formed the ball, submitting an invocation of a good new year.
Later at Auntie Margaret’s house, Auntie Linda whirled around the kitchen getting the food together while Auntie Margaret, Auntie Barbara, Sister and Sean watched the Warrior’s basketball game. I could hear Auntie Barbara hollering, “Get the ball! Get the ball! That motherf—-!” Sean and I decided to stay, eating at a safe distance in a different room.
Rise, bake, cool, taste.
Sister commented, “oh my gosh, look how the layers of the roll just pull apart!”
Kissingcrust.
And she got the fortuitous chips.