This year for Thanksgiving I made my 3rd attempt at butterhorn rolls. These rolls are not just bread for dinner. What they represent is so much more. These rolls represent a community of women trying to master the art of making butterhorns just like Grandma Gunvalson. For some reason, hers always seemed light and airy. Although my mother swears that there were batches that didn't raise that Grandma would throw out and start over....I don't know that I believe her. Butterhorns in my memory were the most coveted part of a holiday meal at Grandma Gunvalsons. They were the kind that you'd steal (one or seven) when passing by the kitchen and shove it into your mouth as fast as possible to rid yourself of the evidence.
These famous rolls are finicky. The temperature of the house has to be just right for the dough to rise, just gentle enough kneeding so not to kill the yeast, and perfect timing in the oven to get just the right shade of gold. One wrong move and you'll find yourself with dozens of rolls made of lead.
Many women have tried and given up on this seemingly impossible mission of recreating Grandma's rolls. To this day, anyone who knew her will tell you what a marvel she was in the kitchen. This may become my new holiday obsession. Last year's attempt was "close" in my dad's words. Coming from him, that's a good judge. This years attempt was even closer. Mom gave them the Gunvalson approval. While maybe not quite be to Grandma Gunvalson's untouchable standards, definitely a step in the right direction.
Beyond the memory of the perfect rolls, butterhorns represent a certain presence. Grandma's holiday meals were of the highest class, with fine china and crystal, cloth napkins and perfect manners. She'd be working, finishing all the details, while never messing up her fancy dress, matching jewelry, lipstick and shoes or breaking a sweat. I don't remember the panic to get all the sides off the stove or out of the oven at the same time. It always just seemed flawless and easy.
While it has been many, many years since experiencing a traditional Gunvalson Thanksgiving or Christmas, it is a cherished part of my life. One that I hope to recreate for my family, not for the presents, but for the atmosphere of love and affection. The atmosphere that this time together is special, all in the details of a well prepared and heartfelt meal together, the attention to detail of a beautifully presented dinner and a lovely decorated home. The sense that all are welcome and that there's always room for another guest.
In my head, I can see the flicker of a candle through a crystal goblet, smell the dinner just about to be served and the attention to every tiny detail....more than anything whatever "can't come up with the words" that feels like love. These rolls represent my grandma's ladylike grace and poise and her obsession with the fine details that make anyone who knew her be made to feel special.
