Fluffy Whole Wheat Dinner Rolls

Calvin found a book this week—a commentary on Lamentations by a scholar from Duke Divinity—and he has been reading it for five days. I see it on the nightstand, on the kitchen table, on the arm of his recliner in the den. He falls asleep with it open. I don't begrudge him this. The man has preached comfort his entire adult life, has stood at the pulpit and told grieving families that God works all things together for good, and now he's sitting in his own house trying to find the good and the theology is fighting with the father and neither one is winning. Let him look. Looking is at least a direction.

Sister Yvette came today with a green bean casserole—the kind with the French's fried onions on top, which I have always privately found a little lazy for a serious cook but which today tasted exactly right because Sister Yvette stood at my door and said, "I don't have anything to say that makes this better, Loretta, so I just brought food," and that was the most correct thing anyone has said to me since March third. She didn't say God has a plan. She didn't say he's in a better place. She said she didn't have words and she brought food anyway and she went back to her car. I watched her drive away and thought: that woman understands ministry.

The kitchen is still cold. I walk through it. I open the refrigerator sometimes, look at what's inside, close it again. The pantry I opened once this week—just opened the door and stood there, looking at the cans and the dried beans and the rice and the cornmeal, all the building blocks of a hundred meals I've made a thousand times. Bernice kept her pantry like scripture: everything in its place, labeled, organized by category. I keep mine the same way. I stood there looking at the cornmeal for probably three minutes. Just looking. I don't know what I was looking for. A reason to start. A sign that starting was possible. I closed the pantry without taking anything out. But I opened it. That has to mean something.

The aide at the nursing home called and held the phone to Mama's ear, and today was a good day, and Mama said, "Loretta Mae, are you cooking?" and I said, "Not yet, Mama," and she said, "Well. When you're ready, the stove'll be there." Then she got confused and started talking about someone named Raymond and the aide gently took the phone back. But Mama said it. The stove'll be there. Yes ma'am. It will.

I didn’t make Sister Yvette’s green bean casserole—I wouldn’t dare, not yet—but a few days after she came to the door, I did open that pantry again, and this time I took something out. Whole wheat flour. Yeast. Salt. The kind of ingredients that have been sitting there since before any of this, waiting without complaint. Dinner rolls felt right: nothing fancy, nothing that asks too much of you, just dough that rises on its own and fills the kitchen with something warm. Mama was right. The stove was still there.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 18 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 45 minutes (includes rise time) | Servings: 12 rolls

Ingredients

1 cup warm water (about 110°F)
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (one standard packet)
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus more for brushing
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
1 egg, room temperature

Instructions

Activate the yeast. Combine warm water, honey, and yeast in a large bowl. Stir gently and let sit 5–7 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast may be expired—start again with a fresh packet.
Mix the dough. Whisk the egg and melted butter into the yeast mixture. Add the salt, then stir in the whole wheat flour until combined. Add the all-purpose flour one half-cup at a time, mixing until a shaggy dough forms.
Knead. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8–10 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky but not sticky. Add flour a tablespoon at a time only if the dough is unworkably sticky.
First rise. Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a clean kitchen towel, and set in a warm spot. Let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.
Shape the rolls. Punch down the dough and divide into 12 equal portions. Shape each into a smooth ball by pulling the dough underneath and pinching it closed at the bottom. Arrange in a greased 9x13-inch baking pan.
Second rise. Cover loosely and let rolls rise again for 20–25 minutes, until they are puffed and just touching each other.
Bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Bake rolls for 16–18 minutes until the tops are golden brown and the rolls sound hollow when tapped.
Finish and serve. Brush tops immediately with melted butter. Serve warm. Store leftovers covered at room temperature for up to 2 days, or freeze for up to one month.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fluffy Whole Wheat Dinner Rolls — For When You’re Ready to Start Again