Parmesan Pull-Apart Rolls — The Bread I Was Baking When Peter Called

I read Paul's books in the evening. The shipwreck books, of course. The same chapters I have read forty times now. The repetition is the comfort. I am not reading for new information. I am reading because the act of opening Paul's books and turning Paul's pages is a form of sitting in the room with him. He is not in the room. The book was in his hand. The book is in my hand. The hands are connected through the book. Peter called from Chicago. He sounded thinner than last week. He said work was fine. I do not believe him. He said his apartment was fine. I do not believe him either. He asked about the dog. He asked about the lake. He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him too. I told him about the bread I was baking. He said he could almost smell it through the phone. We hung up. I stood at the sink for a long minute. I did not know what else to do. Sophie texted a photo of Mira eating cereal. Mira's face was covered in milk. The photo was lit from the side by morning light and the smile in it was uninhibited and full and I could not stop looking at it. I printed the photo. I taped it to the fridge. I have a system on the fridge now: a column for each grandchild, a column for each great-grandchild, photos rotated weekly. The fridge is the gallery. The gallery is the proof. I cooked Picnic cold cuts this week. Smoked ham, summer sausage, sharp cheddar, gherkins, mustard, rye bread. The cooler at the lake. The Saturday picnic. Damiano. The kitchen back-room I have known for over twenty years. The pot. The ladle. The faces. Gerald. The work continues. The work is the same work it has been since 2005. The continuity is, I think, the gift the Damiano Center gives me as much as the gift I give it. We hold each other up. Erik's house is empty now. The Fifth Street house has been sold (the new owners are a young couple from Hermantown, they are kind, they have promised to take care of it; they will paint the walls and tear up the carpet and the kitchen will become someone else's kitchen and I have made my peace with this, mostly). Erik's own house in Lakeside is being cleared out. I helped on Saturday. I packed Erik's coffee mugs. I held one for a long minute. I put it in the box. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. I have been reading the Bible more lately. Not in any new way. The same passages I have known since confirmation class in 1977. The Sermon on the Mount. The 23rd Psalm. The book of Ruth. Whither thou goest, I will go. The repetition of the verses is its own form of prayer. The verses do not change. I change. The change is held by the unchanged words. It is enough.

When I told Peter I was baking bread, he said he could almost smell it through the phone — and I held onto that for the rest of the evening, the idea that bread could travel. These Parmesan pull-apart rolls are what I make when I need the kitchen to do its work: the warmth, the smell, the pull of something soft and golden from the oven. They pack well into the cooler for a lake picnic alongside the smoked ham and sharp cheddar, but mostly I make them because the act of baking is its own form of being present, and presence is what I have to offer the people I love, even the ones I cannot reach.

Parmesan Pull-Apart Rolls

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 1 hr 45 min (includes rise time) | Servings: 12 rolls

Ingredients

• 3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
• 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 cup warm water (about 110°F)
• 1/4 cup whole milk, warm
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, divided
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (for brushing)
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon dried Italian herbs (or rosemary)

Instructions

1. Activate the yeast. In a small bowl, combine warm water, warm milk, sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let sit 5–8 minutes until foamy and fragrant.
2. Mix the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together flour and salt. Add the yeast mixture, softened butter, and beaten egg. Stir until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface.
3. Knead. Knead the dough for 8–10 minutes until smooth and elastic. If the dough is sticky, add flour one tablespoon at a time. The dough should feel soft but not tacky.
4. First rise. Place dough in a lightly greased bowl, cover with a clean towel, and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour or until doubled in size.
5. Shape the rolls. Punch down the dough. Divide into 12 equal pieces. Mix 3/4 cup of the Parmesan with garlic powder and dried herbs. Roll each dough piece into a ball, then roll it lightly through the Parmesan mixture before placing it in a greased 9x13 baking dish. Rolls should be touching.
6. Second rise. Cover the pan loosely and let the rolls rise for 20–25 minutes until puffy.
7. Bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Brush the tops of the rolls with melted butter and sprinkle with the remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan. Bake 20–22 minutes until deep golden brown and cooked through.
8. Finish and serve. Brush once more with melted butter straight from the oven. Serve warm, pulling apart at the table. Pack any cooled rolls tightly for a picnic alongside cold cuts and sharp cheese.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 310mg