The Case of the Exploding Dinner Rolls

For anyone presently living under a rock, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. For me there are no tables to set, or turkeys to baste (it’s “baste”…right?) as I am lucky enough to fall under the category of “guest” for this year’s festivities.

This does not mean that I am without obligations, however. My contribution (according to my sister Laura…the hostess with the mostest) kept changing each time she called.

Originally, I was responsible for: yams, corn and (of course) bread. Yams are my favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal. Growing up, Mom always put them near my place to save everyone else from possibly losing an eye, as I’m pretty proprietary about my yams. Yes, you’ve read that correctly: I’m pretty proprietary about my yams...say that three times fast. Of course, knowing I love to eat them does not mean I know how to prepare them…so many, many recipes must be perused and discounted before I settle on what I hope is the perfect fare.

Laura trusts me to do the corn, as it simply involves opening several cans…and let’s face it: Even I can’t screw that up.

I offered da bread (of course), but with a twist: I said I’d try and make individual dinner rolls this time in my deeluxe, gotta-love-it bread maker.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

I believe Laura said there were 18 of us in total…although, she may have said 13. Or was it 23? Noooo, I think she said 18. I’m relatively, somewhat, vaguely certain.

Anyway.

I was speaking on the phone to Jack, who’d called to wish us a happy turkey day and I’d explained in graphic detail about the massive yams I’d purchased at the market. One of these could easily be used as a heavy duty doorstop…or maybe as a weapon of self defense in the event of a holiday ambush:


I then announced my ambitious plans for the dinner rolls.

He responded with “Uh huh. Do yourself a favor, Kathryn…go out and buy those rolls in the tube…they’ll taste just as good and they’re about a hundredth of the work.” He then went on to describe some incredibly complex (yet, I’m sure very tasty) method for preparing my yams, which would have been great if I knew how to cook. Or bake. Or write down recipes at lightning speed. Besides….I only bought five of these things…and there’s, like, forty people coming…

Then Laura changes the menu. Scratch the corn….add the garlic mashed, as they’ve been ‘specially requested by my niece, as they were SO GOOD last time.

Go figure.

She then casually hints at dropping the yams, to which I reply dramatically “If there’s no yams, then there’s no Thanksgiving” or something to this effect. With a sigh, she says “Fine…we’ll have plenty of starches, anyway. Yams….garlic mashed….rolls. Bye.”

Suddenly, I’m feeling somewhat underappreciated. Even moreso than usual.

After a heavy sigh, I head back to the market for the rolls in a tube. I do believe I got the last four tubes…and I had to climb up two shelves to find them…all the way in the back of the shelf.

When I arrived home, I placed my items on the counter and left to boot up laptop for the candied yam search-a-thon. A few minutes later, I hear a loud **CLAP!!** coming from the kitchen and I assume that Metro is attempting to physically throw himself into the garbage can again. I yell “METRO! CUT IT OUT!” and I’m more than a little surprised when the black lump in the corner of the room moves and I realize he’s with me. A second later, I hear **CLAP!!** again, so I yell “TAYLOR! CUT IT OUT!” (I’m nothing if not consistent in my parenting abilities.) My bark is met with silence, so I cautiously walk down the hall towards the kitchen, half expecting to see a deer flinging itself at my glass door in an attempt to relieve me of my precious mammoth yams.

Can you guess what I found?


THANK GAWD no-one was hurt… I am now officially afraid to touch the other can, for fear it’ll spontaneously explode and put out my eye.

Talk about Thanksgiving drama.

Jackie has provided me with an awesome recipe for my yam-dilemma…and hopefully the fifty-eight people attending tomorrow will approve.

I’m off to yams-ville. (Heaves heavy, dramatic sigh)

Happy Thanksgiving, all!