Roll With It

It has been exactly one week since I last went to the farmers market. I'm surviving, somehow, but just barely, thanks in no small part to an impromptu escape to Witch Mountain Mount Hood with the Gang Bangs (so called because our initials, serendipitously, spell out BANGS, so now I know to whom I can turn when I begin my storied life of crime). Unlike the last time I visited, on Memorial Day, there was no snow in the driveway. Which makes sense because it is July, and all the snow is at the top, where all the ski racers in the country have apparently convened to train. In July. Go figure.

The coolest part of staying in the Reed ski cabin—besides the snow, ha ha—is that you never quite know who else is going to show up for the weekend. On this occasion, we were joined by a group of alums who woke up at twelve—midnight, that is—to climb the summit, disconcertingly eating breakfast at twelve am before lumbering off dressed like abominable snowmen in some pretty frightening looking boots. I hope they made it to the top before the snow all melted and they were left climbing in snow the consistency of ice cream. Their replacements were an alumni couple who met on their orientation trip, got married, and then started a family of two adorable kids who tried furiously to cheat me at Uno. Add to this a surfeit of board games, the half dozen dogs running around under foot, and my three-game gin rummy winning streak, and I was one happy camper. Particularly because the only thing I was camping on was an indoor cot. It was a very relaxing weekend.

On the drive back to Portland, we stopped by a roadside joint called Calamity Jane's, which specializes in burgers the size of your face. All of them come served on an ocean of fries. Some of them come with secret sauce that is butterscotch flavored. Some of them have silly names. And a special few come stabbed through the middle with a knife.

Our brave travelers confront the dread Lumberjack Special.

Suffice it to say that I was too traumatized from this encounter to do much cooking upon my return on Sunday night, and the one spectacular thing I cooked over the weekend—springy, sconelike oatmeal banana chocolate chip cookies—are irreplicable because, after consulting half a dozen recipes, nary a one of which I had the appropriate ingredients for, I just threw things pell-mell into the oven and prayed for the best. Maybe when again confronted with two tablespoons of butter, one egg, and half a brown banana I can make magic happen again.

Thus, as recompense for my lazy weekend, I offer a recipe tested last week chez la Cuisine du Sel—and though a week old, this baby is far from stale. I whipped up a batch of these a few days ago to play wingman to a bowl of broccoli gribiche, and have already started dreaming of the next bunch of spring onions that I can chop up into these beauties. I've got to get my daily chloro-fill somehow, right? And maybe if I still had a plate of these rolls lying around I wouldn't bring the world to its knees with my bad puns.

Scallion Herb Rolls

tweaked, just a tad, from Bon Appétit

2 teaspoons active dry yeast

1 teaspoon coarse salt

1 teaspoon sugar

1 3/4 cups plus 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon coarse salt

1 teaspoon sugar

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled, cubed

1 large egg plus 1 yolk

1 1/4 cups coarsely chopped scallions

1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh herbs (I used chives; the recipe calls for cilantro but I think you should get down with your crazy self and use whatever's running rampant in the garden)

1/2 cup sesame seeds

1 tablespoon black sesame seeds

3 tablespoons olive oil plus more for bowl and brushing

Proof the yeast by whisking 1/2 cup lukewarm water with the yeast, 1 tsp salt, and 1 tsp sugar; let stand about 10 minutes until frothy.

Combine the flour, butter, remaining salt, and sugar in a large bowl. Use your fingertips to rub in the butter until it resembles coarse meal, and then whisk in the egg, yolk, and yeast mixture. Switch to something you can beat the dough around with--a tough spatula, wooden spoon, anything--and knead the dough, using your weapon of choice, until it soft, smooth, and consistent, anywhere from five to ten minutes. Form the dough into a ball and transfer it to a large, lightly oiled bowl; or, if you're obsessed with one-bowl recipes like me, balance the ball of dough perilously on your spatula and use the other hand to smear olive oil around the bowl you just used. Cover and let rise until doubled in size, at least one hour (although it may take longer, and this dough won't complain about a lovely, long rise).

Once you're ready to get baking, line a baking sheet with parchment paper and preheat the oven to 350°. Combine the scallions and herbs in a food processor and pulse until finely chopped. Transfer to a medium bowl and stir in the sesame seeds and 3 tablespoons of oil. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough into a 18x9" rectangle. Spoon the scallion mixture into the center and spread it to the corners of the dough. Roll the rectangle into a cylinder from the short edge, and cut into 3/4" dough swirls. Transfer to the prepared baking sheet and brush lightly with oil. Bake until golden brown, about 30 minutes, and try to wait at least five minutes for them to cool before you bite into them, because they're hot. But pretty irresistible.