Milk Line Rolls - Part 6

Upclose perfect highlighting the texture and salt granules, photo by Andrea Sexton Dumas

Don’t mind me, I’m just making rolls again.

I’m preparing many other dishes for Autumn Harvest Dinner, but the only one I truly care about is the rolls. The dough didn’t feel right enough after kneading for 15 minutes, so I went another five. It felt right: the dough as well as my obsession. 

I’ve talked to everyone about these rolls. One friend said that I sound just like her husband, whose roll recipe will be shared in her upcoming cookbook. Another friend and I talked about vegan versions, so I can make her a batch when we see each other. Sister’s hair dresser’s sister-in-law sent over her roll recipe just in case I needed it.  

It takes a village…

Our 11 year old nephew Hugo, Nayeli’s older brother, slept overnight with us and helped me in the kitchen (in between him playing video games on his phone). Every few minutes I’d call out to him, “Hey, can you set a timer for five minutes? Can you help me measure the flour?” (He’s impressed by the softness of the flour.) “Do you mind washing this pan for me while I knead the dough?  Will you form a ball with me?” (He was not as impressed with the dough texture.)

Rise, punch it down, form, rise (yes, only twice), bake, cool, taste.

He took his first bite and his eyes lit up. That look on his face was all I needed, though I wished Nayeli was here to taste them, too. They were best friends, he and his sister, and she died just over a year ago. I’m sure he wishes she were here with him, too.

Hugo must have eaten 15 rolls that day.  He also didn’t care about anything else I cooked.