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Garlic Knots — The Bread I Bake Every Time I Come Home

Back in San Diego. The tour is over. Seven cities. 900 books signed. One podcast at number one. One kitchen signing in Norfolk that wasn't on the official schedule but was the most important stop of all. The reentry is strange — the way all reentries are strange. The house, the kids, the kitchen. Everything is the same but I'm different. Slightly larger. Slightly more. The way you become more when you've stood in front of strangers and told them about your kitchen and they cried and said 'me too.' Caleb was at the door: 'MAMA'S HOME! Did you bring BOOKS?' 'I brought you a signed copy, baby.' He opened it to the pot roast page. 'This is YOUR book. With YOUR recipes. Mama, you're a REAL AUTHOR.' I've been a real author for three books now. But hearing it from my six-year-old, in my kitchen, after seven cities — it hit differently. Because his approval is the approval. The only one that matters after Mom's. Hazel: 'Mama, I cooked while you were gone.' 'What did you cook?' 'Sand soup.' The girl is still operating her sand restaurant. The preschool kitchen never closes. Ryan had kept the house running. Dinner at 1800 every night. Not always GOOD dinner (cereal appeared more than once), but PRESENT dinner. The table was set. The kids ate. The promise held. 'You kept dinner at 1800,' I said. 'Of course I did. It's your rule.' 'It's our rule.' 'It's our rule.' Made Mom's chicken and rice casserole. The homecoming dinner. Page 100. The beginning and the end. Home. The tour is over. The kitchen is mine again.

The casserole was already in the oven — page 100, the homecoming dinner, the one I’ve made after every trip since Caleb was born — and I still had thirty minutes and two kids hanging off my legs, so I made garlic knots. I always make garlic knots when I come home. Something about the smell of garlic and butter hitting a warm kitchen after days in airports and hotel rooms resets me completely. Ryan had held the 1800 rule all week; the least I could do was make sure the table smelled like home when we all sat down together.

Garlic Knots

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 12 knots

Ingredients

  • 1 lb pizza dough (store-bought or homemade), at room temperature
  • 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, finely chopped
  • 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil (for brushing before baking)
  • Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
  2. Divide the dough. On a lightly floured surface, divide the pizza dough into 12 equal pieces. Roll each piece into a rope about 8 inches long.
  3. Tie the knots. Tie each rope into a loose knot, tucking the ends underneath. Place the knots on the prepared baking sheet about 2 inches apart.
  4. First brush. Brush each knot lightly with olive oil. Let them rest for 10 minutes at room temperature so they puff slightly before baking.
  5. Bake. Bake for 13–15 minutes, until the knots are golden brown on top and cooked through. They should sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.
  6. Make the garlic butter. While the knots bake, combine the melted butter, minced garlic, parsley, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes (if using) in a small bowl. Let it sit for a few minutes so the garlic infuses the butter.
  7. Coat and finish. As soon as the knots come out of the oven, brush them generously with the garlic butter, coating all sides. Sprinkle immediately with grated Parmesan. Serve warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 148 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg

Rachel Abernathy
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 498 of Rachel’s 30-year story · San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.

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