Ok, my friends, I technically grew up a Midwestern girl. Technically. But apparently Missouri calls this a tater tot casserole and not a hot dish, so I guess I’m not Midwestern enough. I don’t make the rules, I just quietly question my identity while standing in the freezer aisle holding a bag of tots.

I’ve been thinking about making a hot dish ever since the first time I saw Molly Yeh make one on Food Network. It looked cozy. It looked forgiving. It looked like something you eat out of a bowl on the couch while wearing sweatpants you absolutely did not put on to “just run errands.”

Naturally, I brought the idea to my sweet little ARFID family and they were NOT on board. Like… not even a little. Hard pass. Full veto. Emotional damage.

So this idea sat on the back burner. For a while. A long while. Until one day, this girl’s need for comfort food at any cost simply could not take it anymore. And thus: Taco Hot Dish was born.

This one will feed an army. But in this case, it’s just going to feed me. (Leftovers are a love language, ok?) And since we’ve got black beans in this one and salsa—which I puree because I don’t like chunky stuff—I’m going to say there are enough veggies here to balance all the tater tots and cheese.

Do I lie to myself occasionally?
Yes.
Yes I do.

But listen. This is warm. This is cheesy. This is deeply comforting. This is the kind of meal that doesn’t ask questions or expect growth—it just says, “Sit down. I’ve got you.”

Taco Hot Dish

Serves: An army… or one tired adult for several glorious days
Vibe: Cozy, forgiving, unapologetically cheesy

Ingredients

• 1 lb ground beef (or ground turkey if that’s your thing)

• 1 small onion, finely diced (or onion powder if we’re being honest)

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 packet taco seasoning

• 1 cup water

• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed

• 1 cup salsa, pureed smooth (solidarity for the anti-chunk crowd)

• 1 cup frozen corn (optional, but adds color and a whisper of nutrition)

• 2 cups shredded cheddar or Mexican-blend cheese, divided

• 1 bag (32 oz) frozen tater tots

• Salt & pepper, to taste

Optional toppings (for serving):

• Sour cream

• A sprinkling of cillantro

• Sliced Jalapeño if you're looking for some spice

•  Hot sauce (because we’re adults and we deserve joy)

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Lightly grease a 9x13 baking dish and feel productive already.

2. Brown the meat.
   In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the ground beef with the diced onion until browned and cooked through. Drain excess grease if needed (or don’t—no judgment).

3. Season generously.
   Add garlic and taco seasoning to the skillet, stir, then pour in the water. Let it simmer for a few minutes until thickened and saucy.

4. Add the “veggies.”
   Stir in the black beans, pureed salsa, and corn if using. Taste and season with salt and pepper. At this point, it should smell like you absolutely made the right decision.

5. Assemble the hot dish.
   Spread the meat mixture evenly in the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle with 1 cup of cheese. Arrange the tater tots on top in neat little rows if you’re feeling calm—or just dump them on if you’re not.

6. Bake.
   Place in the oven and bake uncovered for 30–35 minutes, until the tots are golden and crispy.

7. Cheese it up.
   Sprinkle the remaining 1 cup of cheese over the top and return to the oven for another 5–10 minutes, until melted and bubbly.

8. Rest (the dish, not you).
   Let it sit for about 5 minutes before serving. This is important for both structural integrity and personal safety.

Final Thoughts from the Couch

This Taco Hot Dish is everything I wanted it to be: warm, filling, familiar, and absolutely unconcerned with being trendy. It’s the kind of food that understands you had a day. Or a week. Or a season.

Will my family eat it?

Probably not.

Will I eat it?
Repeatedly. With joy. Out of a bowl. Possibly standing at the counter at midnight.

And that, my friends, is what comfort food is all about. 

February is here, which means we are collectively pretending winter is almost over while knowing deep in our Colorado bones that we are absolutely being lied to. Sure, Punxsutawney Phil did his little groundhog thing, but Colorado winters are sneaky.

You’ll be out there casually saying things like, “Wow, this winter hasn’t been too bad,” or “Yikes, the snowpack though…” and then BAM—winter remembers she forgot about us and shows up unannounced, boots on, no text first.

So yes, even though the sun is shining and there’s not a flake of snow on the ground at the moment, I am firmly staying in my cozy era. Warm-your-bones food only. Enter: Mile High Biscuits.

These biscuits are big. Like Colorado big. They’re tender, buttery, and fluffy in a way that feels mildly impressive even though, let’s be honest, biscuits are mostly just flour and vibes. Made right, they puff up gloriously and make you feel like you’ve absolutely got your life together—even if you’re eating one standing at the counter in yesterday’s sweatpants.

To make sure I don’t waste even a speck of dough (because waste stresses me out more than it should), I cut these into squares. No re-rolling scraps. No biscuit dough patchwork situation. Just clean cuts and straight sides. That said, if biscuit cutters are your thing, go for it! Just promise me one thing: don’t twist. Twisting seals those edges and these babies won’t rise to their full, dramatic potential. And honestly? They deserve better.

Have them for breakfast with butter melting into every nook. Serve them alongside a big old bowl of soup when winter finally shows up. Drizzle them with honey just because it’s time for carbs. However you eat them, just… make them. Winter doesn’t stand a chance.

High Altitude Mile High Biscuits (Makes 9 large biscuits)

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 tablespoon baking powder

• 1 teaspoon sugar

• ¾ teaspoon kosher salt

• ½ cup cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

• ¾ cup cold milk or buttermilk (plus a splash more if needed)

Optional (but cozy):

• Melted butter for brushing tops

• Flaky salt for finishing

Instructions

1. Preheat & Prepare
   Preheat your oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it. High altitude biscuits like a hot oven—think dramatic entrance.

2. Mix the Dry Ingredients
   In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. This is not the time to rush—give it a good whisk so everything is evenly distributed.

3. Cut in the Butter
   Add the cold butter cubes to the flour mixture. Using a pastry cutter, fork, or your fingertips, work the butter in until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces of butter still hanging out. Those little butter pockets? That’s where the magic lives.

4. Add the Milk
   Pour in the cold milk or buttermilk and gently stir just until the dough comes together. If it looks a little dry, add a splash more milk. The dough should be soft and slightly shaggy—not wet, not crumbly, and definitely not overmixed.

5. Shape the Dough
   Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and gently pat it into a rectangle about 1-inch thick. No rolling pin required. We’re being gentle here.

6. Cut the Biscuits
   Cut the dough into 9 equal squares. Easy, efficient, and zero waste—my favorite combo. If you’re using a biscuit cutter, press straight down without twisting.

7. Bake
   Place the biscuits on the prepared baking sheet with sides just barely touching. This helps them climb upward instead of spreading out. Bake for 12–15 minutes, or until tall, golden, and smelling like you’ve made excellent life choices.

8. Finish & Serve
   Brush the tops with melted butter if you’re feeling extra (you should be). Sprinkle with flaky salt if desired. Serve warm, always warm.

A Few Cozy Notes

• High altitude friendly: Extra baking powder and minimal handling help these rise beautifully above 5,000 feet.

• Cold ingredients matter: Cold butter + hot oven = flaky layers. Science, but make it cozy.

• Square biscuits = sanity: No scraps, no stress, no dough rerolls turning tough.

If winter is going to sneak up on us anyway, we might as well be ready—with biscuits. Big, buttery, mile-high biscuits. The kind that make soup better, mornings softer, and February feel just a little less long.

Go make them. Winter doesn’t stand a chance. 

Alright friends, grab a cozy blanket and a stretchy pair of pants, because we need to talk snacks.

The big game is coming, my beautiful friends, and even though the Broncos didn’t make it all the way (the boys in the house are still upset), snacks must be made. This is not optional. This is not negotiable. And somehow—mysteriously, predictably—that responsibility falls to yours truly. And listen, if I’m going to make them, I’m going to share them with you, because I refuse to suffer alone in the kitchen while everyone else just… waits hungrily.

Now. In case you’re wondering what’s been happening in my brain lately (a dangerous place, I know), I’ve still been deep into my cozy mystery era. Like, aggressively so. I just finished book one in a deep dish pizza mystery series—which is both delightful and very on-brand for me. And that got me thinking (scary, I know): what if I took everything I love about a traditional Chicago deep dish pizza crust… and rolled it up cinnamon-roll style… with all of our favorite pizza toppings inside?

You guys.

They’re SO good.

These Meatlovers Pizza Rolls are everything you want in a game day snack. Warm, cheesy, indulgent, a little ridiculous, and absolutely not pretending to be healthy. They’re crisp on the outside, soft and buttery on the inside, and packed with sausage, pepperoni, bacon, and melty mozzarella. Basically, they’re the kind of food that makes people hover near the oven and “just check on them” every two minutes.

Make them for football.
Make them because it’s your turn to host pizza night.
Make them because it’s Tuesday and you deserve joy.

You will NOT regret it.

Meatlovers Pizza Rolls

Why These Work

This dough is inspired by a Chicago-style deep dish crust—slightly richer, a little buttery, sturdy enough to hold all the fillings, but still soft and tender when baked. Rolling it up traps all that meaty, cheesy goodness into neat little spirals of happiness. It’s science. Probably.

Ingredients

Dough

• 1 cup warm water (about 110°F)

• 2 ¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)

• 1 tablespoon sugar

• 2 tablespoons melted butter (plus more for greasing)

• 2 tablespoons olive oil

• 2 ½ to 3 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 2 tablespoons cornmeal (for that deep dish vibe)

Filling

• 1 cup pizza sauce (plus extra for dipping)

• 1 ½ cups shredded mozzarella cheese

• ½ cup cooked Italian sausage, crumbled

• ½ cup pepperoni slices, chopped

• ½ cup cooked bacon, chopped

• ½ teaspoon Italian seasoning

• Optional but encouraged: a pinch of red pepper flakes

Topping

• 2 tablespoons melted butter

• ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

Instructions

1. Make the Dough
   In a large bowl, combine the warm water, yeast, and sugar. Let it sit for 5–10 minutes until it’s foamy and smells like hope. Stir in the melted butter and olive oil. Add 2 ½ cups flour, salt, and cornmeal. Mix until a soft dough forms, adding more flour as needed. Knead for about 5 minutes until smooth and elastic. Place in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.

2. Prep the Filling
   While the dough rises, cook your sausage and bacon if they’re not already done. Chop the pepperoni. Shred the cheese. Taste-test everything. This step is crucial and definitely not just snacking.

3. Roll It Out
   Once risen, punch down the dough (very therapeutic). Roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a rectangle, about 12×16 inches.

4. Fill It Up
   Spread the pizza sauce evenly over the dough, leaving about a ½-inch border. Sprinkle on the mozzarella, then evenly distribute the sausage, pepperoni, bacon, Italian seasoning, and red pepper flakes if using.

5. Roll & Slice
   Starting from the long edge, roll the dough up tightly like a cinnamon roll log. Slice into 12 equal pieces. (Or if you're like me, make them even bigger and put 8 of those babies in a cast iron skillet)

6. Bake
   Place the rolls cut-side up in a greased 9×13 pan. (See above for big rolls)  Brush the tops with melted butter and sprinkle with Parmesan. Bake at 375°F for 25–30 minutes, until golden brown and bubbly.

7. Serve
   Let cool slightly (or don’t—live dangerously). Serve warm with extra pizza sauce for dipping.

Final Thoughts from the Snack Table

These Meatlovers Pizza Rolls disappear fast. Like, “I blinked and they’re gone” fast. So if you’re feeding a crowd—or teenage boys still mourning a football season—you might want to double the recipe.

They’re cozy. They’re indulgent. They’re exactly the kind of snack that brings people together on the couch, plates balanced on knees, yelling at the TV and asking, “Are there more of those?”

Yes. Yes, there are. And now you know how to make them.

Well my friends, January is over.

Which means we’ve all given up on resolutions, right?

If you’re still walking the straight and narrow ketogenic path, I salute you. Truly. But I also feel it is my duty as a baked-goods enabler to tell you that this cake might be the thing that knocks you clean off it. Gently. Lovingly. With cocoa and cream cheese.

Because here’s the thing: this red velvet marble loaf doesn’t care what time it is.
Can it be dessert for your Valentine? Yes.
Can it be breakfast? Also yes.
Can it be sliced thinly, eaten standing at the counter, and followed by the words “I’ll just have a bite”? Absolutely.

And with a few very important high altitude tweaks (less leavening, a little more flour—because the mountains demand respect), you are going to make everyone in your house fall in love with you. Even the cat.

(Please don’t feed it to her.)

I love a loaf cake because it feels low-pressure. No layers. No leveling. No “why is my cake leaning like it had a long night?” energy. Just one cozy pan, a dramatic red velvet swirl moment, and a thick slather of cream cheese frosting that forgives all sins—dietary and otherwise.

This cake is tender but sturdy, lightly chocolatey but not aggressive, and festive in a “February is doing her best” sort of way. It’s Valentine’s Day-adjacent without being pink and precious. It’s the cake you make when you want to show love but also want leftovers.

So let’s bake.

High Altitude Red Velvet Marble Loaf

with Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients

For the loaf:

• ½ cup unsalted butter, softened

• ¾ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• ½ cup sour cream (full fat, please)

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Dry ingredients:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour (high altitude adjustment)

• 1 Tbsp cornstarch

• 1 tsp cocoa powder

• ¾ tsp baking powder (reduced for altitude)

• ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

Red velvet swirl:

• 1 Tbsp cocoa powder

• 1 Tbsp milk

• 1–2 tsp red food coloring (gel preferred)

Instructions

1. Prep your pan & oven
   Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and line a 9x5 loaf pan with parchment, leaving an overhang for dramatic cake removal later.

2. Cream butter & sugar
   In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy—about 2–3 minutes. This is not the time to rush. January already rushed us enough.

3. Add eggs & dairy
   Beat in eggs one at a time, scraping the bowl as needed. Mix in sour cream and vanilla until smooth.

4. Mix dry ingredients
   In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cornstarch, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

5. Combine
   Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients and mix just until combined. Do not overmix. We want tender loaf, not emotional support bread.

6. Create the marble magic
   Scoop about ⅓ of the batter into a small bowl. Stir in the cocoa powder, milk, and red food coloring until smooth and gloriously red.

7. Layer & swirl
   Alternate spoonfuls of vanilla and red velvet batter into the loaf pan. Use a knife to gently swirl—think “romantic ribbon,” not “aggressive stirring.”

8. Bake
   Bake for 55–65 minutes, tenting loosely with foil after 45 minutes if the top browns too quickly. A toothpick should come out with a few moist crumbs.

9. Cool
   Let cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely before frosting. (This is the hardest part. I believe in you.)

Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients

• 4 oz cream cheese, softened

• 2 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup powdered sugar

• ½ tsp vanilla extract

• Pinch of salt

Instructions

Beat everything together until smooth, fluffy, and emotionally supportive. Spread generously over cooled loaf.

Final Thoughts From the Counter

This is the kind of cake that makes January feel forgiven and February feel hopeful. It’s cozy, a little indulgent, and completely unconcerned with your past intentions to “eat less sugar.”

Serve it to your Valentine. Serve it to yourself. Serve it with coffee in the quiet morning light while everyone else is asleep. And when your cat stares at you like she, too, would like a slice—tell her no, but thank her for the admiration.

Here’s to giving up on resolutions and saying yes to cake. 

You guys know I’m of a certain age.

I don’t hide anything — including the fact that I ate more frozen pot pies than any human being probably should.

Honestly, I’m not even sure everything inside those little aluminum trays was actual food. Some of it felt more like… vibes. Or paste. Or mysterious beige cubes from another dimension.
And yet?
They were so comforting.

There is just something about a warm, savory pie on a cold January day, am I right?

So today I’m hitting you with all the warm, fuzzy, nostalgic feelings of chicken pot pie — but without the chemicals, weirdness, or microwave instructions that include the phrase “let stand due to molten lava interior.”

Instead, this chicken pie has:

• A flaky bottom crust

• A cozy, creamy shredded chicken filling

• Whatever veggies float your boat

• And the real star: a buttery, cheesy, crunchy breadcrumb topping

No lie, this will warm any heart on a cold day.
And if I’m being totally honest (which you know I am), I would eat this in the dead of summer too. AC blasting, fork in hand, zero regrets.

Full disclosure: I used to pick out the little peas when I was a kid. Religious dedication to pea removal. So this is a proudly pea-free recipe.

But if you love peas? Live your truth. Toss them in.

No matter how you make it, I just want you to make it — and let’s relive our youth together, minus the aluminum tray and the side of existential ingredient confusion.

Cozy Chicken Pie with Buttery Breadcrumb Topping

Ingredients

For the bottom crust:

• 1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust (homemade or store-bought — no judgment, only love)

For the filling:

• 2 tablespoons butter

• 1 small onion, diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 2 carrots, diced

• 2 celery stalks, diced

• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour

• 2 cups chicken broth

• 1 cup milk or cream

• 2 cups cooked shredded chicken (rotisserie = cozy shortcut)

• 1/2 teaspoon salt (more to taste)

• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper

• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

• 1/4 teaspoon paprika (optional but lovely)

• 1 cup of veggies that you like, if you like them

For the breadcrumb topping:

• 3/4 cup breadcrumbs (panko or regular)

• 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese

• 2 tablespoons melted butter

• 1 tablespoon chopped parsley (optional, but pretty)

• Pinch of salt

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F and place your pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish. Set aside.

2. Make the cozy filling:
   In a large skillet or saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery and cook until softened, about 5–7 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook for another 30 seconds.

3. Sprinkle the flour over the veggies and stir well. Cook for 1–2 minutes to get rid of the raw flour taste.

4. Slowly whisk in the chicken broth and milk. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens into a creamy, cozy sauce.

5. Add shredded chicken, seasonings, and all your veggies. Simmer for 2–3 minutes. Taste and adjust salt and pepper like the kitchen wizard you are.

6. Pour the filling into your prepared pie crust.

7. Make the topping:
   In a small bowl, mix breadcrumbs, Parmesan, melted butter, parsley, and salt. Sprinkle generously over the filling.

8. Bake for 30–35 minutes, until the topping is golden and the filling is bubbly and smells like emotional support.

9. Let cool for 10–15 minutes before serving… unless you enjoy burning the roof of your mouth like we did in the frozen pot pie era.

Cozy Serving Suggestions

• A simple green salad

• Extra black pepper on top

• A blanket

• Your favorite comfort show

• Zero guilt

Last week the kiddos started college back up again.

They love the long winter break… but wow does it make heading back sooo much harder.

To say they were in full complain mode would be an understatement. We’re talking dramatic sighs, selective amnesia about how much they actually care about forging careers, and the classic “why does winter break have to end?” existential spiral. Honestly, relatable.

So I fixed things the only way I know how.

With sugar.
Butter.
And flour.

It doesn’t matter if they’re adults. I’m still coming in hot with baked goods and emotional support carbohydrates. That’s just who I am now. Probably who I’ve always been.

The problem was… I couldn’t decide what to make.

Cookies?
Brownies?
Brookies!!!

Reader, we chose peace. We chose compromise. We chose both.

But fair warning: if you’ve been around here for a minute, you already know that Ivy’s brother does not like “fudgy brownies.” And by fudgy, he means gooey. And by gooey, he means absolutely not, thank you. He prefers his brownies cakey, structured, and emotionally stable.

So this is not your ultra-gooey, sink-your-fork-into-the-middle-and-need-a-napkin kind of brookie. This is a cakey brownie base with chocolate chip cookies cobbled over the top like a cozy dessert quilt. Best of both worlds. Nobody’s mad. Everyone wins.

I could have topped them with flaky sea salt and made them all fancy.
But I didn’t.
Because they weren’t for me.

This is called restraint. Growth. Maturity. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Salt or no salt though… whatever you do?
Make them.
They are the perfect salve for the back-to-work, back-to-school, back-to-reality blues.

Why You’ll Love These Cakey Brookies

• Cakey brownie base = no gooey drama

• Classic chocolate chip cookie topping

• One pan, zero fancy techniques

• Perfect for feeding teenagers, college students, or emotionally fragile adults (me)

• Freezer-friendly for emergency dessert situations

They’re cozy. They’re nostalgic. They taste like someone cares about you.

Which… is kind of the point.

Cakey Brookies Recipe

Brownie Layer (Cakey Style) *Can be doubled for a 9x13 pan and big fat brookies!

Ingredients:

• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

• 1 cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• ¾ cup all-purpose flour

• ⅓ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

• ½ teaspoon baking powder

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 cup semi sweet chocolate chips

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F and line a 9x9 pan with parchment paper.

2. In a bowl, whisk together melted butter and sugar.

3. Add eggs and vanilla and whisk until smooth.

4. Stir in flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt until just combined.

5. Add the chocolate chips and fold in.  More chocolate is always better.

6. Spread the brownie batter evenly into the prepared pan.

Cookie Layer

Ingredients:

• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

• ½ cup brown sugar

• ¼ cup granulated sugar

• 1 large egg

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1¼ cups all-purpose flour

• ½ teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ¾ cup chocolate chips

Instructions:

1. In another bowl, cream together butter and sugars until light and fluffy.

2. Beat in egg and vanilla.

3. Stir in flour, baking soda, and salt until just combined.

4. Fold in chocolate chips.

5. Drop spoonfuls of cookie dough over the brownie batter. Don’t worry about covering it perfectly—those rustic gaps are charming and intentional and definitely not because we’re tired.

Bake

• Bake at 350°F for 28–33 minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick comes out with moist crumbs (not wet batter).

• Let cool completely before slicing… or mostly cool if your household has no patience.

Optional Toppings (If You’re Making Them for Yourself)

• Flaky sea salt

• Extra chocolate chips

• A drizzle of caramel

• A scoop of vanilla ice cream

• Or just eat them standing at the counter like the rest of us

These cakey brookies aren’t flashy. They’re not trendy. They’re not going viral on TikTok. But they are warm, comforting, reliable, and deeply loved by the people they were made for.

Which honestly feels like the highest compliment a dessert can get.

If your house is feeling a little heavy lately…
If the calendar just flipped and nobody was emotionally prepared…
If the coffee isn’t hitting and the motivation left the chat…

Make the brookies.

Butter helps. 

And if you do make these, hit me up and tell me how they solved all your problems...or just, ya know, tasted good.

I’m gonna show my age again, friends. I’m a generation that grew up eating bread out of a can. It’s true. When my mom busted out one of those cans of Pillsbury crescent rolls from the fridge, I couldn’t have been more excited, like it was the best day ever! You know the ones—the cardboard tube that practically required safety goggles to open, the little triangle of dough you rolled up, the way they puffed up golden in the oven like magic.

Those weren’t just rolls. Those were a celebration.

They meant spaghetti night. They meant company was coming over. They meant something special was happening at the dinner table, even if the main event was… let’s be honest… meatloaf.

And while I can now bake actual bread these days and there’s no way I’m making bread from a can for my family, you know in this year of taking care of my inner child, it was time to make dinner rolls just a little bit more special.

So I give you: the softest, the fluffiest, the most buttery, cloud-like rolls, topped with honey butter and flaky sea salt, and rolled up like a little crescent just to make the inner child in you smile.

You’ve got to make them, my friends. They will elevate any dinner—even if  you're going full throttle 80s and you’re having them with Hamburger Helper.

No judgment. Only carbs and comfort here.

Why These Rolls Hit Different

There’s something deeply comforting about a good dinner roll. Not the kind you politely ignore on the table. I’m talking about the kind you “accidentally” eat three of before the meal even starts. The kind you pull apart with your hands because they’re too soft to cut. The kind that practically beg for butter.

These are those rolls.

They’re lightly sweet, impossibly fluffy, and brushed with warm honey butter straight out of the oven so they soak it up like little doughy sponges of joy. The crescent shape is purely for nostalgia purposes (and emotional support). They make you feel like a kid again, without the trauma of the can exploding in your hands.

And yes, they take a little more effort than popping a tube and calling it a day—but I promise they’re still totally doable. If you can stir, knead a little, and wait patiently for dough to rise (the hardest part), you can make these.

Plus, your kitchen will smell like a bakery, and that alone is worth everything.

Soft Crescent Rolls with Honey Butter

Ingredients for the Dough

• 1 cup warm milk (about 105–110°F)

• 2 ¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)

• ¼ cup granulated sugar

• 1 large egg, room temperature

• ¼ cup unsalted butter, melted

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 3 to 3 ½ cups all-purpose flour

For the Honey Butter

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

• 1 ½ tablespoons honey (more if you like it sweeter)

• Pinch of flaky sea salt (plus more for sprinkling on top)

Instructions

1. Wake up the yeast

In a large bowl (or the bowl of your stand mixer), combine the warm milk and sugar. Sprinkle the yeast over the top and let it sit for about 5–10 minutes until it gets foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast might be dead, and nobody wants emotionally unavailable yeast in this recipe.

2. Make the dough

Whisk in the egg, melted butter, and salt. Add the flour gradually, starting with 3 cups. Mix until a soft dough forms. If it’s super sticky, add a little more flour, one tablespoon at a time, just until it’s workable.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 6–8 minutes until it becomes smooth and elastic. If you’re using a stand mixer, knead with the dough hook for about 5 minutes.

3. First rise (the cozy part)

Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, cover it with a clean kitchen towel, and let it rise in a warm spot for about 1 hour, or until doubled in size. This is the perfect time to make tea, scroll Pinterest, or dramatically stare out the window like you’re in a bread commercial.

4. Shape the crescents

Once the dough has risen, punch it down gently (very satisfying). Roll it out into a large circle, about 12 inches across. Use a pizza cutter or sharp knife to cut the circle into 12–16 triangles, like slicing a pizza.

Starting at the wide end of each triangle, roll it up toward the point to form that classic crescent shape. Place the rolls on a parchment-lined baking sheet, point-side down.

5. Second rise

Cover the rolls loosely and let them rise again for about 30–45 minutes, until puffy and pillowy.

6. Bake

Preheat your oven to 375°F. Bake the rolls for 12–15 minutes, until golden brown on top and your kitchen smells like pure happiness.

7. Honey butter magic

While the rolls are baking, stir together the softened butter, honey, and a pinch of flaky sea salt. As soon as the rolls come out of the oven, brush them generously with the honey butter. Don’t be shy. This is not the time for restraint.

Finish with a light sprinkle of flaky sea salt on top if you want to feel extra fancy (and you do).

Serving Suggestions (A.K.A. What These Go With)

These rolls are basically good with everything:

• Cozy soups and stews

• Sunday roast chicken

• Holiday dinners

• Pasta nights

• Chili

• Salad that needs emotional support

• And yes… Hamburger Helper, eaten proudly

They’re also excellent the next morning, warmed up with a little extra honey butter and a cup of coffee while you stand in the kitchen wondering how you accidentally ate four.

A Final Note from My Inner Child

There’s something really sweet about recreating the foods that made us feel safe, happy, and loved when we were younger. We don’t have to reject the nostalgia just because we’ve grown up and learned how to bake “real” bread. Sometimes we can honor both versions of ourselves: the kid who loved crescent rolls from a can, and the adult who now lovingly shapes dough by hand.

These soft crescent rolls feel like a bridge between those two versions of me. Cozy, familiar, a little extra, and deeply comforting.

If you make them, I hope they bring a little warmth to your kitchen, a little joy to your table, and maybe even spark a memory or two.

And if you grew up on canned rolls too? Welcome. You’re in good company here.