The true joy of a really great Thanksgiving morning is one that consists of nothing more than to go outside and pick up the paper then turning on the TV to enjoy the Macy Day Parade. As I was thumbing through the section of the paper that highlights amateur regional cooks I came across a recipe for yeast cinnamon rolls.
It made my mouth water.
I ran to the kitchen to locate the package of yeast that I purchased some time ago under the delusional assumption that I would make some bread. It was still in date! I quickly re-read the recipe and knew there was no way I could follow these instructions. It involved one of those very expensive mixers. I have an old hand held mixer that has a mind of its own.
So, I pulled out my cook books and using two of them , I began my venture into uncharted territory.
I am a visual type of learner. I love to read, but I am kind of thick headed. Show me how to do it!! I had to have two books to get the job done!! How long does it take for the dough to rise? One book says, "...until it doubles in size." I have to know how long! The other book provided the answer, about one hour. One book said, "...add the flour until it will knead with out sticking". Okay good, it is not sticking, I put it in the oven, with the setting in warm, because there is no "warm" place in my house! None!! The dough appears to rise, but in one hour, it did not double.
I referred to both cook books again.
Knead? The first one did not say, "knead the dough" it said, "until it does not stick..."
Doh! (pun intended).
So, I took it out and kneaded it and divided it, and rolled it out, applied the brown sugar and butter mix, rolled it up into a roll, and cut it up and brushed it with butter and laid in on a glass pie pan. Covered and back in the over, on warm.
They rose! I baked them.
They were divine. Sweet cinnamon heaven, they were wonderful!
The next morning I woke up and my first thought was, "Cinnamon roll for breakfast!" When I saw the plate that housed the rolls lying in the sink I began to have a bad feeling. My husband was standing there trying to look innocent.
"Where are they?" I questioned him. He shrugged and threw his head towards the outside. "In the garbage. I ate all the tops off of them and tossed the rest. It's for your own good."
Five hours down the drain! I was shocked he would do such a thing!! I thought about killing him, but then on second thought I shrugged it off.
It more than likely was for my own good.