I have yet to live a year where my mother’s delicious rolls are not the front and center of our Thanksgiving feast…and I hope that day never comes. 

A soft and airy inside with the perfect amount of crisp to the exterior of the knotted lump of dough.  

No one knows what makes Momma Lisa rolls so addictive, however I believe it’s love.  

Not only does my mom, Momma Lisa, make at least four dozen of her infinite rolls for our family each Thanksgiving, but people will call her and offer her money for a couple dozen for themselves.  

The love my family has for my mom’s rolls is so big that whenever she makes some, my dad and I will take the first pick, placing the rolls in Ziplock bags, and hiding them throughout the house away from the others. However, this trick of ours isn’t so fun when my father forgets where he put the buttery goodness.  

The recipe came from my Aunt Patty (although my mom claims hers are better.) The first time my mom tried out the recipe was around the period of 2001, and never stopped perfecting them since.  

These rolls have been the highlight of Blanchard’s Thanksgiving table for as long as I can remember and continue to gain love from other families each year.  

When asked what this year’s Thanksgiving menu was going to look like and who was making what, before anything was discussed my brother’s girlfriend, Olivia, sputtered out “WILL YOU MAKE YOUR ROLLS,” while gleaming into my mother’s eyes.  

There have also been many times that I have had my mom make her rolls for my best friend, Kallie, as a birthday present. Kallie is the pickiest eater I know (she refuses to eat rigatoni shaped pasta but LOVES spaghetti because the shapes “taste different”) but will devour a dozen of Momma Lisa’s rolls within two days.  

Not only can these rolls be eaten by themselves, but they work in every way; dip them in your gravy, make a sandwich with your turkey, slap some butter on them and warm it up. No matter how you choose to bless your mouth with these fluffy delights, you will be filled with warmth as your taste buds dance.  

I remember one year when we did not have an oven, however, don’t be fooled, because we would have never let Momma Lisa slide out of making her annual dish.  

That year we went as far as buying a convection oven that sat on two cutting boards and placed on top of our blue countertop. The oven was so small that you could only fit about eight knots of dough at most. But after many rotations of baking then cooling, we still had enough rolls for all 30 family members to enjoy that year.  

The rolls are the first thing on everyone’s plate, the last thing to be eaten, and the start to all leftover inventions. Momma’s rolls continue to be the beginning, middle, and end to every one of my Thanksgiving meals.