My Mommy Loves Me!
Allow me to explain…
I have recieved word that my sainted mother’s world-famous orange rolls are currently winging their way to me from distant Chicagoland. This might not seem like a big thing, but, believe me when I tell you those orange rolls taste like love.
They’re a holiday staple at that house. Lusted after and coveted all year long. Mom only makes them at either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Never both and almost always at Thanksgiving. They take hours and hours to make, mainly because massive amounts of orange peel must be carefully grated off only the freshest oranges available. They’re deliciously yeasty little rolls all glazed over in a caramelized orange sauce that is pure heaven.
Mom generously made two dozen of them so I could share them with the folks who are taking me in this year for Thanksgiving. I laughed out loud when she told me this.
“Ha! Are you kidding me? Those are all MINE!” I told her.
“Don’t you want to share any with them?” she asked.
“NO! What do they know from orange rolls, Mom? ‘Sides, I’m making bread to bring. They don’t need orange rolls.”
My father, who started this tradition by insisting that she keep making them, some mysterious holiday before I was born, simply laughed his great, roaring belly laugh at my holiday greed. I don’t think he’d share, either, if she’d let him get away with that.
The orange rolls should arrive tomorrow under armed guard via UPS.
Well damn, now I want one.
Comment by Melissa — 11/22/2005 @ 8:00 pm
I would like one myself. Reminds me of the deserts I see on the Food Network like pecan pie.
Comment by Hassan Voyeau — 11/23/2005 @ 10:10 am