Three Hour Rolls

Yesterday I decided to make a southern fried spread and have some friends over to enjoy good food, good drinks, and good times.  I got my heart set on making my Granny’s Faye’s yeast rolls.  I love the recipes from Granny’s I have tucked away in my family cook book.  They are always hand written and some measurements are literally written as, “a little pinch a’this and little pinch a’that.  (Just to your likin’.)”  I got started on the shopping a little late and realized after I got all the ingredients to make the rolls that they take several hours to prepare and it was already 5:00.  I was determined to make these rolls so I figured I’d dazzle my guests with booze and my sparkling personality and hope they don’t notice we’re eating at 9:00.  Those rolls became one of those projects where I got 1/3 of the way into, my kitchen is covered in flour, I’m covered in flour, I can’t remember if I added the baking powder and I’m relieved I bought a back-up package of frozen rolls if things go to pot.  Well relieved, but also somewhat saddened that I plan for my failures.  Maybe that just makes me a realist and a survivor.  Who knows?  This is also the time I start debating if having a drink could only help or worsen the situation.  I guarantee you, I'd care a lot less.

There is a total of 10 minutes worth of kneading to be done to this dough, in 5 minute intervals after falling and rising.  At first getting out a little healthy rage while punching and pummeling that dough was fun but then it just got exhausting and everyone around me started looking less and less deserving of my Granny Faye’s homemade yeast rolls.  I toughed it out and the rolls turned out just as I’d hoped and they were as yummy as I remember.   I realize some people might ask, "Why not just use the store bought?"  I have a perfectly reasonable answer to that and it is this: there are some pretty decent heat n' eat dinner rolls out there but there's a certain level of pride that southern woman have when it comes to their pie crusts, biscuits, rolls and cobblers.  We want the glory, plain and simple.  Love us or starve.

I only had 5 adults for dinner so now I’m still left with mounds of yeast rolls.  My oldest and middle child are incredibly finicky and don’t really eat much of what I make unless it comes out of a box and has “Kraft” written on the front.  I learned to stop letting it bruise my ego a long time ago and only really “cook cooked” for Jason and I.  Over time though, my youngest has proved to be the eater of the family.  That little tank can put away serious amounts of food and always loves what I cook.  I don’t care if it has peppers and onions or some of the many other foods that kids usually turn their noses up at.  He will eat it up and say, “Mmm…  Good!!!”  All mothers secretly hope their sons will grow up to be strapping, capable men who can fend for themselves but will always need us desperately and call us and ask us to make those special things no one can or will ever make like us.  All other women must pale in comparison forever, grovel at our feet and ask for our recipes but never make them as well.  I speak truth, I assure you.

This morning Reid came downstairs and the first thing he set eyes on was the saran wrapped bowl of all those yeast rolls.  “Oh!  Oh!  Oh!”  He was pointing and dancing a little jig, so excited to see those rolls.  I immediately opened it up for him and realized I don’t have to worry about them going to waste.  He’ll have a few bites, say “Mmmm”, throw it across the room, watch some more cartoons and come back for it later.  So were the hours of work I put in to make Granny Faye’s yeast rolls worth it?  Oh yeah…  Someday he might call and say, “Hey Mom, will you make those rolls?"  If that's the case, I'll always make those rolls.