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My mom always said she got two things out of her marriage: me and a roll recipe. To be deemed in the same echelon as those rolls—buttery, golden-brown horns of yeasted perfection—after she and my father divorced when I was still an infant felt like a great compliment.The recipe has been passed down on handwritten notes to the sisters and wives on my father’s side going back I don’t know how far, making its way from rural Indiana to Dallas, where my parents settled. The notes would be pulled out anytime something needed to be celebrated; you knew an event was special when the rolls made an appearance, and likewise, their appearance had the power to make any occasion special.The rolls are in the foreground…

The post I’m Estranged From My Dad’s Family. But Every Thanksgiving, I Have a Reminder of Them on My Table. appeared first on Texas Monthly.

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