What is it about walking into a room early in the morning, putting a pan of puffy goey dough into the oven, and getting that first sniff of cinnamon and sugar melting into deliciousness that brings back those warm, loving, soothing feelings of every Christmas from the beginnings of my memory. It's an amazing thing to me, how traditions can shape our memories, and become so sentimental that they are passed down for generations. Silly, maybe, to keep making these amazing (but oh, so fattening!) monkey bread rolls during the holidays, but I don't think so. Now with our own little family, watching Robert eat monkey bread for the first time, and imagining the great memories I hope he someday associates with this Christmas treat. Okay, it made me cry a little, but only because I was happy. I love traditions, and it is wonderful to combine both the Wardell and Snow family traditions, and even make new ones of our own. :)
So fun, I heart traditions too! I so need your recipe it looks delish.
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