It’s a snowy Thanksgiving here in Northern New
Jersey, perfect for baking the famous “Butterhorn” rolls, a holiday tradition
in our family that was started by Mom when I was little, and then taken over by
my sister, Sue, when she was still in her teens. Mom’s original recipe appears
in the Raymond United Methodist Church cookbook that was published in the late
seventies. I’m sure that many people reading this will remember that recipe
book and some of you probably even took it off the shelf recently as you were
planning your Thanksgiving menu.
I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving since moving to New Jersey
fifteen years ago. We usually spend the day in the city with Harvel native, Elissa
Lebeck, who lives in midtown Manhattan. Many years ago, Tim and Lara Lebeck
joined us at Elissa’s for Thanksgiving, and although Sue and Jarrod stayed home,
Sue surprised us by sending along a care package containing freshly baked Butterhorns.
Boy, was that a treat.
After that, Thanksgiving just didn’t seem the same without
the rolls, so I decided that I would begin making my own batch each year. Sister
Sue, anticipating the challenges I would face in this endeavor (see my blog
entry on August 7, 2014), was kind enough to type Mom’s recipe and augment it
with a full page of step by step instructions. My favorite part is about
halfway down the page when it’s time to let the dough rise. She writes: “I usually turn my oven on WARM for a few
minutes and then turn it OFF and let the dough rise in the oven. BE SURE THE OVEN IS OFF.” Oh, she knows me so well (sigh). Even with
these detailed instructions that I keep folded and tucked inside the Methodist
Church cookbook, I usually have to call or text Sue at least once during the
annual roll-making process. Tim refers to this as contacting the “Butterhorn Hotline."
I like to bake the rolls on Thanksgiving morning when Paul and Jonathan are still sleeping and the house is quiet. I use my mom’s old-fashioned metal measuring cups and spoons, and my Aunt Pauline’s Pirex measuring cup, the red print on the glass faded after all these years. My favorite part is rolling out the dough, “painting” it with butter, and then cutting a pinwheel design using Allen Poggenpohl’s Country Financial Insurance Agency pizza cutter that Jonathan got one time when he visited big Al’s office (I just love that thing!). My next favorite part is the feeling of the floury, velvety dough as I roll each wedge into a crescent, remembering to “put it on the baking sheet point down so it doesn’t unroll” as per Sue’s helpful instructions.
Once the actual baking begins and the aroma fills the house, it reminds me of the Thanksgivings at home on Oak Street in Raymond, Dad carving the turkey and doing “KP duty” in the kitchen, while all of us anxiously waiting for Aunt Pauline and Uncle Harlan to arrive with Aunt P’s famous homemade applesauce. Today’s weather reminded me of the excitement I felt on
The rolls are all packed up and ready to go. Later this evening, as I sit down for dinner in the shadow of the Empire State Building and in the company of an island boy, a Jersey kid, some New Yorkers, including folks from Russia and Thailand, we will all get to experience a little piece of back home.
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The Butterhorn Hotline is open each year the day before Thanksgiving and throughout Thanksgiving Day. The staff is very helpful and nice. Please email me at pinkston.jan@gmail.com if you need the phone number.
The Butterhorn Hotline is open each year the day before Thanksgiving and throughout Thanksgiving Day. The staff is very helpful and nice. Please email me at pinkston.jan@gmail.com if you need the phone number.
