You can always tell when it's time for Thanksgiving dinner. Assorted plates line the table, topped with a classic mix of sweet and savory food: cranberries and turkey, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, and maple bacon bits mixed in green beans. Each food is amazing in its own way; however, the warm basket of crescent rolls is the only thing I really care about when filling my plate.
Sure, I try a little bit of everything on the counter, but if the meal consisted solely of crescent rolls, I would not complain.
I remember when my grandmother would make the crescent rolls, and my cousins and I would go crazy over them. Our mothers would joke that there was nothing special about our grandmother's rolls because she bought them from the freezer section at the grocery store like everyone else. But at the time, I couldn't tell the difference between store-bought and made-from-scratch.
Despite being able to taste the difference, I would still prefer frozen crescent rolls heated up in the oven when compared with certain classics like stuffing and cranberry sauce. Those are not my vibe.
Crescent rolls are my vibe. Light, flakey, buttery goodness all wrapped in the shape of a moon. Aesthetically pleasing and tasty, am I right? I could honestly eat six and be unashamed.
I eat turkey, mashed potatoes, and brussel sprouts year-round, but I only get to enjoy crescent rolls twice a year: Thanksgiving and Christmas. This means that I only have a select window in which I can savor their goodness. Now is the time, people. Who's with me?
