Garlic and Butter Pull-Apart Dinner Rolls (make ahead!)

Thanksgiving is tomorrow,  and I have been strangely absent.  My mom is hosting, and I am in charge of making dinner rolls, an appetizer, and 2 vegetable dishes for our 12 person Thanksgiving dinner.  So far I’ve got the rolls and the appetizer prepped and ready for baking.  Tomorrow I’ll get the roasted vegetable dishes done.

This is my first time making homemade dinner rolls from scratch, with yeast.  While I have baking issues when it comes to desserts, I have quite a handle on yeast doughs.  Usually it’s the other way around for people, they are intimidated using yeast, maybe for the time commitment (I can understand that), but making desserts is a piece of cake (pun intentional).

The greatest part about working with yeast is it allows you to multi-task.  Once the ingredients are put together and the dough kneaded and shaped, you can fuhgit about it for 45 minutes.  That’s an episode of “Glee.”  Or, the responsible route, it’s enough time to prep an appetizer for Thanksgiving.

I don’t have final pictures yet since the rolls haven’t technically been served.  But after taste-testing the dough, I’m pretty sure they will be a hit.  They are buttery with a touch of sweetness from the sugar and random kicks of garlic from the minced cloves.  If you don’t like garlic, try chopping up some fresh rosemary, or add chives.  This dinner roll recipe is a blank canvas.  I will update about what my family thought of the dinner rolls.  Let’s hope I don’t burn them.

Click here for the printable recipe.

Garlic and Butter Pull-Apart Dinner Rolls

Makes 15-16 rolls

1 cup fat-free half and half
6 tablespoons softened butter, cut into 6 chunks
3 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 packet (2 1/4 teaspoons) rapid rise yeast
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg
2 egg yolks
1 tablespoon minced garlic (4-5 cloves)
1.  In a medium sauce pan over medium heat, melt the butter in the half and half.  As soon as the butter is melted, turn off the heat.
2.  In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, yeast, sugar, and salt.
3.  Mix one third of the half and half/butter combo into the dry ingredients, and use a spoon to combine; you should have small, pea-size chunks.  Add the next 2 thirds in the same manner, a little at a time.
4.  Add the egg, 2 egg yolks, and garlic to the dough and mix to combine.  At this point, your hands may make the combining easier.
5.  On a clean work surface, knead the dough about 5 minutes.  Place the dough in a clean mixing bowl and cover with a dark kitchen towel.  Let it rise in a warm place for 45-55 minutes.
6.  After the dough has doubled in size from rising, spray a 13 x 9 inch baking dish (preferably glass) with cooking spray.
7. Divide the dough into fourths.  working with one fourth at a time, roll it into a log shape about 6 inches long.  Cut the dough in half, then cut each half in half again so you end up with 4 pieces.  Roll one piece at a time into a ball and arrange in the baking dish in rows or randomly.  Repeat this step with the remaining dough.
8.  Cover the baking dish again and set the rolls in a warm place to rise for another 45 minutes.  (Optional let the rolls rise for 30 minutes, then place then in the refrigerator for the next day.  If making the rolls ahead of time, set them on a kitchen counter for about 20 minutes before baking them.)
9.  Position an oven rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 375 degrees.  Bake 20-25 minutes, until the rolls are puffy and golden brown.  Serve immediately with extra melted butter brushed on top if desired.
This recipe was adapted from The Weekend Baker by Abigail Johnson Dodge.

Feeling Discouraged? Bake Bread

Has it been one of those days?  The kind when discouragement is your companion all day long.  When anxiety seems to follow you like a cat that’s been run over looking to you for a place to die.  It may be your health.  Worries over someone else’s health.  Your job or lack thereof.  Maybe your closest relationships have been on edge.

Everything needs a breath of faith.  A booster shot of peace.  Some days when we are fixated on hoping some problem will resolve, we need a reminder of the power of process.

My recommendation: bake bread.  The real kind.  Yeast, water, a little sugar, flour, salt, oil.

There is something visceral about baking bread.  The feeling of taking basic ingredients and transforming them.

Its inherent creativity gives us a sense of accomplishment.  Baking bread is not an instant gratification, the entire process reminds us to be patient; we can’t control things.  We have to let things take their course.  The good thing about bread baking is its course takes a couple of hours, whereas we have no clue with life’s other problems.

Start with the yeast.  A simple creature, easily overlooked.  These drab brown-grey granules are the size of sand.  But when we give it a little coaxing, we awaken it.  Yeast needs 4 basic things: sugar, warmth, darkness, and, most importantly, time.

First, by dissolving the yeast in warm sugar water, we start the initial prompting.  The yeast eats the sugar and emits carbon dioxide in the form of bubbles fizzing to the surface.  If the yeast is good, the bubbles will form a beige film on top and you’ll start to detect that quintessential yeast smell.

After about 10 minutes, we add ordinary staples.  Nothing special.  In fact, they are all quite bland on their own, but that’s what baking is, a creative act of combining ordinary items into something warm and comforting.

Kneading follows.  It is the process of mixing it all together, creating a round ball of dough.   Here’s the one act of baking bread that requires work.

Then we cover it with a dark kitchen towel and leave it alone.  We have to trust that it will rise, but we have no power to hurry this process.  The change is subtle at first, invisible, but after the rising time, we see proof of abundance, the dough has doubled in size.

Finally, we bake it, and the final transformation occurs.  From the oven we take out a symbol of comfort and sustenance.  In about 2 hours’ time we have a warm, fresh loaf of bread, a reminder of what can happen when we let something naturally run its course.