By School is out. Liam is officially a rising second grader and Nora is officially a rising kindergartner — wait, she finished kindergarten, she's a rising first grader. I keep getting confused. I keep making her the same age she was last year.
I did not work Tuesday and Wednesday because day camp didn't start yet and I had to bridge a few days. We made a fort in the living room out of every blanket in the house. I worked from the kitchen table on charting. Liam read the entire Magic Tree House book about pirates. Nora drew thirty-one pictures of cats.
The clinic on Thursday: a teenager with a UTI who was mortified, a baby with a viral rash, a man who cut his hand on a tuna can. I am the kind of nurse practitioner who sees a little of everything.
Group Tuesday. We had a picnic on the lawn behind the parish hall. Lila brought lemonade. Diane brought cookies. We sat in folding chairs under a maple. The mothers among us talked about summer logistics. The childless among us listened with the tolerance of saints.
Meghan called at 11 Monday. She said I am tired. I said sleep. She said I have a deposition. I said sleep before the deposition. She said I do not function that way. I know.
Sunday dinner at Ma's. Father's Day. We ate Dad's favorite — Maureen's pork chops with the apples and the onions, mashed potatoes, the green beans. Patrick gave Dad a new fishing rod. He had never asked for a fishing rod. Patrick said now you'll learn to fish, Dad. Dad said maybe. I gave him a frame with a picture of the kids, both of them in his lap, taken last September. He set it on the kitchen counter where he could see it from the table.
Saturday pancakes. Burned the first one. Liam flipped two of them himself. I let him. I held my breath until he was done.
Food of the week: Dad's pork chops. We had leftovers. Liam ate them cold for breakfast Monday. He is his grandfather.
Every Father’s Day, the table at Ma’s fills up fast — Dad at the head, the kids climbing into laps, Patrick making promises about fishing trips that may or may not happen. This year I wanted to bring something beyond the expected, something that felt a little celebratory but still tasted like home. These Prosciutto Phyllo Roll-Ups were exactly that — salty, flaky, warm, gone before dinner was even served. Dad had three.
Prosciutto Phyllo Roll-Ups
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 24 roll-ups
Ingredients
- 12 sheets phyllo dough, thawed
- 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- 6 oz thinly sliced prosciutto
- 1 cup shredded Gruyère or provolone cheese
- 2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon dried)
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard (optional, for spreading)
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
- Prepare phyllo layers. Lay one sheet of phyllo on a clean work surface. Brush lightly with melted butter. Place a second sheet directly on top and brush again with butter. Repeat with a third sheet for a total of three layers.
- Add fillings. Spread a thin layer of Dijon mustard over the top sheet if using. Lay prosciutto slices evenly across the surface, leaving a 1/2-inch border on all sides. Sprinkle with shredded cheese, thyme, and black pepper.
- Roll and slice. Starting from one long edge, roll the phyllo tightly into a log. Press gently to seal the edge. Using a sharp knife, cut the log into 1-inch rounds to make approximately 8 roll-ups. Place cut-side up on the prepared baking sheet. Repeat with remaining phyllo sheets and filling.
- Bake. Bake for 15–18 minutes, until the phyllo is golden brown and crisp. Rotate the pans halfway through for even browning.
- Cool and serve. Let roll-ups rest for 5 minutes before serving. Best enjoyed warm, though they hold up well at room temperature for an hour.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 85 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 210mg