A Thanksgiving Tradition...

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

another snowy Thanksgiving back in 1974, when Dad and I went to Hillsboro and picked up Grandma Gamlin whom, although extremely frail, had been given a one-day pass to leave the nursing home so we could all spend one last Thanksgiving together. These rolls have such a powerful effect on me that I find myself even feeling nostalgic about waiting for my older brothers to arrive (both were married and had children of their own when I was still really young), even though it most certainly meant that I would get a “dutch rub” from brother Bob when mom and dad were not looking.

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.