Until my sister mentioned it earlier today, I had forgotten that my husband liked brown and serve rolls. Fortunately, I cannot remember the last time I popped them into the oven for 5 minutes and smeared on a generous pad of butter in a futile attempt to improve the taste. Over the years, I'd like to think that I had a hand in refining my husband's palette.
In high school I began baking bread using a cold raising technique. Early in our marriage, I discovered a versatile potato dough that morphed into dinner rolls or yummy cinnamon rolls. They would regularly appear as part of our weekend menus. It has been years since I last made this recipe and it has been years since I last made anything remotely resembling bread because all control is for naught.
I was asked to make dinner rolls for Easter dinner and I found a new recipe to try. Tonight as I cut the dough and gently pulled the rolls into shape, I thought of my husband; grateful for all those years I was able to charm him in the kitchen.