Rolls

Making cinnamon rolls was something I loved doing when my kids were still at home. I enjoyed the kneading process as well as experiencing the yeasty smell of raising dough. I loved rolling the dough,slathering it with butter, cinnamon, and sugar, rolling it up, slicing it, putting the wonderful pinwheels of goodness into the pan, and letting them raise again. In my opinion, there is nothing more soothing, more inviting, more mouth watering than the aroma of cinnamon and bread filling the kitchen--especially on a cool, rainy day.

Then came the moment we had all been waiting for, the sampling. Warm, sweet rolls filled with cinnamon and sugar, dripping with a vanilla glaze, and topped with a pat of melting butter, oh my, pure goodness and calories.

I don't make rolls anymore, but sure will eat them. In fact, I will eat any kind of roll. Give me sweet rolls, crescent rolls, kaiser rolls, French rolls. I'll eat onion, poppy seed, cheese, and jalapeno rolls. If you bring it, serve it, or talk about it, I will want it.

I like rolls so much I refuse to buy them. I will not intentionally lead myself into temptation. But everyday, there are two rolls I cannot avoid no matter how hard I try. In fact, they are staring me in the face right now. One is just above my belt line, and the other is just below it. Maybe, if I removed my belt, I will only have one roll to deal with. Maybe.

Enjoying a 60 degree, drizzly, August day in the Pacific Northwest--oh for a warm cinnamon roll right now.

Jan