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Make Ahead Rosemary Sweet Potato Rolls — For the Table That Has to Hold Everyone Together

Playoffs. Bryan Station won the first round, 24-10 over Anderson County. Clay had seventeen tackles. Season total: one hundred and twenty-six. The record is seventeen away. One more game — maybe two — and he'll have it. The math is almost inevitable, which is not a word I use often because nothing in my life has been inevitable except soup beans on Monday and the mine collapsing, and one of those was good and the other was not.

Connie and I are hosting Thanksgiving again. Same cast as last year plus Betty, who I'm driving down to get on Wednesday because she said she'd come this year. She hasn't come to Lexington for a holiday since Travis's first Thanksgiving in his apartment, which was 2015, and before that I can't remember. The drive is hard on her. The crowds are hard on her. But she said "I'm coming" on the phone last week with a tone that suggested debate was not welcome and preparation was expected.

The Thanksgiving prep is in full swing. I brined the turkey yesterday — same method as last year, the one that works. I'm making the cornbread dressing, the one I've been working on for three years and which is now, I believe, close to Betty's. Close enough that Betty will eat it and nod, which from Betty is a ticker-tape parade.

But the new addition this year is sweet potato casserole. I've been dodging this recipe because sweet potato casserole is divisive: there's the marshmallow camp and the pecan streusel camp, and they don't agree and they never will. Betty is marshmallow camp. Connie is pecan streusel camp. I am stuck between two women I love and a root vegetable, which is a situation no one prepares you for in life.

I'm making both. Two casseroles. Marshmallow for Betty, pecan streusel for Connie. The base is the same: boil sweet potatoes until soft, mash them with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, and a little cream. Spread into baking dishes. On one: miniature marshmallows, broiled until golden and puffed. On the other: a mixture of brown sugar, flour, butter, and chopped pecans, baked until crispy. Two casseroles, two women, one diplomatic husband who has survived a mine collapse and a twenty-six-year marriage and will survive the sweet potato wars through the ancient strategy of capitulation on all fronts.

Once I committed to two sweet potato casseroles, I realized I’d already done most of the work for these rolls — the boiled, mashed sweet potato base is the same, and a little of it folded into dinner roll dough is the kind of thing that turns a good roll into a great one. Making them the day before means Wednesday night earns its keep, and Thursday morning I can focus on the turkey, the dressing, and the careful diplomatic management of marshmallow versus pecan streusel without burning anything. Betty will pull one apart and butter it before she even sits down. I’m counting on it.

Make Ahead Rosemary Sweet Potato Rolls

Prep Time: 30 min + 2 hr rise | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: ~3 hr (or overnight) | Servings: 16 rolls

Ingredients

  • 1 cup mashed sweet potato (from 1 medium sweet potato, boiled and mashed, cooled to room temp)
  • 1 cup warm whole milk (about 110°F)
  • 2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (one standard packet)
  • 2 tbsp light brown sugar
  • 4 tbsp unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled, plus more for brushing
  • 1 large egg, lightly beaten
  • 1 1/2 tsp fine sea salt
  • 1 tbsp fresh rosemary, finely minced (or 1 tsp dried)
  • 3 3/4 to 4 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • Flaky salt, for finishing (optional)

Instructions

  1. Proof the yeast. In a large bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the warm milk, brown sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let sit for 5–8 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast is dead — start over with a fresh packet.
  2. Build the dough. Add the mashed sweet potato, melted butter, beaten egg, salt, and minced rosemary to the yeast mixture. Stir to combine. Add 3 3/4 cups of flour and mix until a shaggy dough forms.
  3. Knead. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8–10 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky but not sticky, adding flour a tablespoon at a time as needed. Alternatively, knead with a dough hook on medium speed for 6–7 minutes. The dough should clear the sides of the bowl.
  4. First rise. Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, turn to coat, cover with plastic wrap or a damp towel, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until doubled in size.
  5. Shape the rolls. Punch down the dough and turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide into 16 equal pieces (use a bench scraper and a kitchen scale if you want them uniform — about 60g each). Roll each piece into a smooth ball, pinching the seam underneath. Arrange in a buttered 9x13-inch baking dish, seam side down, spacing them evenly.
  6. Make ahead option (recommended). Cover the pan tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight, up to 16 hours. The rolls will slowly rise in the refrigerator. Remove from the fridge 60–90 minutes before baking to come to room temperature and finish their rise.
  7. Same-day option. Cover the pan and let rolls rise at room temperature for 45–60 minutes until puffy and nearly touching.
  8. Bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Bake rolls for 18–22 minutes until deep golden brown on top. An instant-read thermometer inserted in a center roll should read 190–195°F.
  9. Finish and serve. Brush hot rolls immediately with melted butter. Sprinkle with flaky salt if desired. Serve warm. Leftovers keep well wrapped at room temperature for 2 days or frozen for up to 1 month.

Nutrition (per roll)

Calories: 190 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 220mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 86 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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