“Mmmmm,” R mumbled through a full mouth.
“They’re good, aren’t they?” I asked, already knowing the answer because I had already eaten two before he got home.
“I’ve never had bread like this made at home!”
“I’ve never made bread like that at home!”
These are the tasty little bastards in question:
I used one of those copycat recipes to make these. These are copycat versions of Texas Roadhouse rolls. Have you ever been there? It’s a magical place where Texas sized portions, southern hospitality, steak, and the best rolls you’ve ever had all conveniently coexist. I cannot wait to go home and order a dozen of these to-go, and then go home, sit on the couch, and eat them all in one sitting. It’s going to be amazing.
However, in the meantime, while in Lagos with no access to Texas Roadhouse (WTF’s up with that, Nigeria?), I resorted to making my own.
It was an interesting process since I successfully made these tasty little rolls without a thermometer. I was able to use a little common sense, my finger (as the thermometer) and likely some heavenly guidance from my Grandmother, who was an actual pastry chef, to get to the desired result.
I don’t have photos from every step of the process, but I have a photo from the most important step–that moment when you check and see that your bread has risen and you’re on the way to doughy flavor town. Here’s photographic proof that I did not kill my yeast, even though I didn’t have a thermometer to test the temperature of the milk or the water in which the yeast was bloomed.
Just another day in Lagos, a place that forces me to be creative with cooking.
If you’re reading this in Texas, please, for the love of God, go to Texas Roadhouse and eat some rolls for me. Comment below with some photos to make me jealous.
If you’re reading this elsewhere in the world, just know that your life sucks and you should visit Texas immediately. (Insert sarcasm)
Until tomorrow, my friends…