 For a lot of Norwegian-Americans, sandbakkels (the plural in Norwegian is actually sandbakkelse, but we can Americanize) remind them of Christmas. The crisp, buttery cookies are essentially dense tart shells, similar to shortbread, but more crumbly. Meaning "sand pastry," sandbakkels are baked in special fluted tins and contain either ground almonds or more commonly in the U.S., almond extract. Despite the fact that they are usually served plain here in the states, those little tart shells just begged to be filled. So when I was planning my Scandinavian Midsummer Porch Party, I thought they would make the perfect little dessert. The problem was, what recipe to use? One of my best-loved talks is on the history of Christmas cookies, and I've got a whole section on Scandinavian ones. So I turned to my former research and remembered the PAGES of sandbakkel recipes from Recipes from Many Lands, a little cookbook of recipes submitted by North Dakota housewives and home economists around the state and published in July, 1927 as Circular 77 of the Agricultural Extension Division of North Dakota State University. I've clipped all the Sandbakkelse recipes (also Americanized to "Sand Tarts") and posted them below.    The vast majority of these recipes are very similar - almost all call for a mixture of butter and lard, sugar, an egg or two, almond extract, and flour. The instructions are usually quite vague. Some don't even include amounts of flour. Some just say to press into tins and bake. So I decided to take the best advice from all the recipes and the Swedish Sandbakkelse recipe (which actually had measurements for everything) and go from there. But first, I had to find my sandbakkel tins! At some point I either stole them from my mother (she always had too many and never used them), but I had a little original box of vintage sandbakkel tins in mint condition hiding in the bottom of a kitchen drawer. Alas, I only had a dozen of them, so I had to make due with the recipe in other ways, which you'll see below. But how cute is this box? With the original hardware store price tag!  The little white box with a drawing of the fluted tin reading "Sandbakkel Set Tart Tins" and a pink "Our Own Hardware" pricetag in the corner for $1.09.  The box reads "Sandbakkel Set (Round) Style No. 45 The Gladd Company, Minneapolis, Minn." because there are several styles of fluted sandbakkel tins, including heart-shaped and diamond-shaped, in addition to the more common round ones. Scandinavian Sandbakkelse Recipe (1927) Sandbakkelse ingredients - flour, sugar, butter, eggs, almond extract, and the tins. The recipe is pretty straightforward, and if you don't have sandbakkel tins, never fear! There's a hack suggested in the historic recipes that I'll outline below. 1 cup softened butter (2 sticks) 1 cup granulated sugar 1 egg 1 teaspoon almond extract 2 cups flour (plus more to knead) Preheat the oven to 350 F. In a large bowl, cream the butter and the sugar together, then add the egg and extract and mix until smooth. Add the flour, a little at a time, until the dough starts to come together, then knead with the hands until smooth. Take half dollar sized pieces of dough and press into the tart tin, pressing the dough all the way out to the edge of the tin, but not over the edges. Make sure to press well to ensure good fluting. The dough is buttery enough that you won't need to grease the tins. Place tins on a sheet pan and bake 12-15 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool in the tins. Uhoh - you've still got a ton of dough left, and your sandbakkel tin set only came with 12 tins! What do you do? Well dear reader, you follow the advice of those sage 1920s North Dakota farm wives, who maybe didn't have sandbakkel tins either, and you press the dough into a pie plate, and bake it that way. And instead of filling the adorable individual tarts with jam and whipped cream, you fill a whole pie worth and cut it into slices to serve. Easy peasy! You could probably also use muffin tins, in a pinch. But the fluting is the pretty part, so if you can find sandbakkel tins, use them! I actually took a fair number of photos this time, so enjoy the process via the power of film:  Creaming the butter and sugar by hand, because I don't like to wash my electric mixer beaters.  The soft dough that wouldn't hold anymore flour without getting tough.  Pressing the dough into the tins (they're so shiny!) with some rounds of dough for amount gauging.  The recipe made enough dough for 12 sandbakkel tins and two pie plates! If I had enough tins, I'd estimate 3 dozen tarts total.  The finished tarts, coming out of the oven on their sheet pan, golden brown.  The sandbakkels and pie plate sized ones cooling. The pie versions have fork marks because they were puffing up in the middle during baking.  The finished dessert table! Sandbakkelse in the foreground. Tarts were filled with strawberry, blackberry, or a special homemade raspberry-rose wine jam that was to die for, and then topped with homemade whipped cream. In all, the sandbakkelse were among the easiest of the Scandinavian cookies to make. Which is probably why in Norway they are traditionally the first Christmas cookie that kids help make. But they're not just for Christmas! They were delightful as a summer treat. You could also fill them with pastry cream, fresh fruit, chocolate, or whatever you like! But berry jam and whipped cream felt the most appropriate for Midsummer. If you'd like to buy your own sandbakkelse tins, Bethany Housewares makes the round kind, and you can get the fancy shapes from Norpro. And if you are a whipped cream fiend like my husband (and to a lesser extent me), and you admired the pretty piping, I can't recommend enough getting a professional, reusable whipped cream dispenser. We love this one. When you factor in buying the heavy cream and the nitrous oxide cartridges, they're not much cheaper than buying the disposable cans, but the whipped cream is some of the best you'll ever taste and you waste a lot less packaging. Plus the cream, once charged, keeps in the fridge for as long as the heavy cream was good. A little shake and it restores to fluffy deliciousness. Happy baking, happy eating! If you purchase anything from the links, The Food Historian gets a small commission!  A blackberry sandbakkel and a slice of giant strawberry sandbakkel, on a vintage pink Depression glass plate. You know these were not the first ones I ate. The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. Join us for awesome members-only content like free digitized cookbooks from my personal collection, e-newsletter, and even snail mail from time to time! Don't like Patreon? Leave a tip!
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 Last year I wrote about North Dakota Caramel Rolls, which have dominated the state in recent years. But funnily enough, although they are less popular now, orange rolls were equally if not more popular when I was growing up. And I found many more references to them in my historic cookbooks. Orange rolls in the upper Midwest (mainly Eastern North Dakota, where I grew up, and Minnesota) were popular Sunday brunch staples, although they competed about even with caramel rolls in my neck of the woods. Of course, the kind I grew up with were not made from scratch, but rather the frozen kind made by the Rhodes frozen bread company. They came with a delightful orange cream cheese frosting. But despite being a brunch staple of my Midwestern childhood, I didn't know much about these, and I wanted to try a historic recipe for a brunch of my own. The origins of orange rolls and their popularity in the Midwest is, like many things, a bit cloudy. If you search for "history orange rolls" today, you'll likely get a LOT of hits about ALABAMA orange rolls (scroll to the bottom for the links), but nary a one about the Midwestern kind. Truth be told they don't look like they differ much. A sweet roll dough with orange zest and sugar rolled up like a cinnamon roll and topped with an orange glaze. So why did both Alabama and the Upper Midwest develop a love of orange rolls? Oranges aren't grown in either region. Enter the 1910s and '20s orange craze. In the 1870s California orange agriculture exploded, and oranges - once an imported wintertime treat - became increasingly available year-round. "Orange fever" struck Florida around the same time, until a big freeze in 1894 and again in 1895 set the industry back on its heels. In the 1920s the industry got a boost from the Florida real estate boom. Cooperatives like the California Orange Growers Exchange began to market nationally using clever advertising techniques. "Sunkist" - a playful spelling of "sun-kissed" - became synonymous with the California Orange Growers co-op, and later became their official name.  "Sunkist Recipes: Oranges and Lemons," by the California Fruit Growers Exchange, 1916. The earliest recipe for what resembled orange rolls comes from Sunkist Recipes, Oranges - Lemons, published by the California Citrus Growers Exchange in 1916.  "Orange Pinwheels" are essentially baking powder biscuits, rolled thin, spread with butter and sugar mixed with orange juice and zest, then rolled up and sliced, with more sugar sprinkled on top. The Sunkist biscuit-style recipe survives, with or without attribution, in other cookbooks throughout the 1920s and '30s. Often, the biscuit "rolls" are called "orange rolls," not "pinwheels," which makes the research a bit confusing! The earliest recipe I could find for yeasted orange rolls comes from Mrs. Allen's Cook Book by one of my favorite cookbook authors, Ida Bailey Allen, published in 1917. But even these aren't quite the same as what I was looking for.  Recipe for "Orange Rolls (5 Hours)" from "Mrs. Allen's Cook Book," by Ida Bailey Allen, 1917. Mrs. Allen's "Orange Rolls (5 Hours)" are not actually rolled up rolls - they're more like buns flavored with orange juice and candied orange peel, and then glazed with more orange peel. Thankfully, Frances Lowe Smith has our back with her More Recipes for Fifty, published in 1918 and containing several wartime-friendly recipes, including this one for "Orange Rolls," which are to be prepared using a yeasted dough and spread with butter and sugar mixed with orange juice and grated rind and then "rolled like cinnamon rolls." The first North Dakota reference I could find is for the biscuit-y kind of orange rolls, in a 1930s North Dakota Agricultural Extension circular. But looking through my cookbook library for vintage midwestern cookbooks, I also found tons of references to orange rolls! Largely from the 1930s and '40s (which is when most of my North Dakota and Minnesota cookbooks date to). I decided to go with this recipe, because it looked fairly easy and definitely quick. No getting up five hours before brunch for these beauties (sorry, Mrs. Allen). Taken from Receiptfully Yours, a community cookbook published by the Ladies' Guild of the Zion Lutheran Church of Duluth, MN, the recipe turned out very nicely!  Although Receiptfully Yours, is undated, I'm guessing it dates from the 1940s, judging by the type and the style of binding. Both the Cinnamon Roll recipe and Orange Roll variation were submitted by Ethel Mathison. I love that they used full names, instead of "Mrs. Husband's Name!"  Midwestern Orange Rolls RecipeLike many orange rolls recipes, this one starts as a recipe for cinnamon rolls, with orange rolls listed as a variation. Interestingly, instead of having an orange glaze or cream cheese frosting, this recipe is listed much like caramel rolls! With a butter-sugar-orange-juice mixture cooked in the bottom of the pan. Here is my slight modernization of the recipe: - - For the dough - - 1/2 cup scalded milk 3 tablespoons butter 3 tablespoons sugar 1 1/2 teaspoons salt 1/2 cup cold water 1 envelope quick-rising yeast 1 egg 3 1/4 cups flour - - For the filling and glaze - - 3/4 cup sugar 2 tablespoons grated orange zest 2 tablespoons melted butter 3 tablespoons orange juice Preheat the oven to 375 F. Mix milk, butter, sugar, and salt in a saucepan and heat over medium heat until the butter is just melted. Cool by adding cold water, then add the yeast and egg and beat well. Then add flour and mix until smooth, kneading several times. The dough will be soft. Let the dough rest 15 minutes. Roll the dough out on a floured board (or clean countertop) into a 12" by 18" rectangle. Mix 1/4 cup sugar and 1 tablespoon zest and spread on the dough, then roll as for cinnamon rolls and cut crosswise into 1 inch slices. In a 9"x13" pan, mix 1/2 cup sugar, 2 tablespoons melted butter, 1 tablespoon orange rind, and 3 tablespoons orange juice, then top with the cut dough pieces. Let rise until doubled, then bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Flip to serve.  Leaving space between the raw rolls is key! They need enough space to rise.  I was worried about the sauce spilling over (and you can see a few spots where we got close!) so I baked these on a baking sheet to catch any spills. But they turned out beautifully.  The baking sheet was also useful in flipping them over! Here you can see the syrupy bottoms. These turned out beautifully, although very sweet! I used some very sweet heirloom navel oranges in the recipe, and something with a little more acidity might have been better. When I make them again, I might take a page from some of the other recipes and moisten the sugar for rolling with a little orange juice, and pick some more sour oranges. I may also bake them a smidge longer. Of course, I may also decide to try my hand at some of the other recipes, too! These rolls are perfect for a weekend brunch, bridal or baby shower, or afternoon treat. Have you ever had orange rolls? How do you take yours?  Alabama Orange Rolls History LinksAnd now, as promised, a taste of the rabbit hole I went down in researching this post. The Alabama orange rolls may be more internet famous than the Midwestern ones, but it looks like they laid their claim to fame a bit later - in the 1960s and '70s, to be precise. Read on for more of the back story. The delectable history behind Birmingham’s famous Orange Rolls Why the Alabama Orange Roll is a Southern Classic - Southern Living The sweet story of Millie Ray and her famous orange rolls The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. Join us for awesome members-only content like free digitized cookbooks from my personal collection, e-newsletter, and even snail mail from time to time! Don't like Patreon? Leave a tip!  Last week I went home to North Dakota for Mom's funeral. The service ended up being lovely, with a huge turnout, and so nice to see extended family and old friends. Reminders of her were everywhere, of course, but while her garden was starting to come up, including the special fern peonies she rescued from her grandmother's garden, nothing was really blooming yet. But the rhubarb on the south side of the house was already going gangbusters. About a month ago, right after Mom died, my sister and I were going through some of the books she had out, including cookbooks. Sister found a copy of the Ritzy Rhubarb Secrets Cookbook: Rhubarb Recipes by the Good Cooks of Litchville, North Dakota and the Surrounding Area, which is much in-demand on the North Dakotan corners of the internet. Edited by Jane Winge and originally published in 1991 and reprinted in 1992, 1993, 2000, and 2002, it's probably the most popular rhubarb cookbook in the Upper Midwest. We both wanted it, but given my already extensive cookbook collection, I said she could have it. Except then we found another copy! Thanks to Mom's thrifting skills, we both got to have one. Which was just a perfect present from her. All of the guests for the funeral were gone by Sunday, leaving just me and Dad. I decided I wanted to make a rhubarb cake for the two of us. We had the most delicious rhubarb bars at the after-service dinner, but they ran out before I could get one! Thankfully a friend had gotten dessert WITH her dinner, and shared. We found out later the young (and very talented) baker thought that people might not like rhubarb, so she didn't make as much of those as the other bars (rommegrot bars - a take on a favorite Norwegian cream porridge). I was like, "Not this crowd!" Rhubarb is very popular around here and those who moved away remember it from childhood. Everyone raved that they were the best rhubarb bars they'd ever had. And while I sadly do not have that recipe (yet, lol), I was feeling cake-ish (as I often do), so searched the Ritzy Rhubarb Secrets Cookbook for a likely candidate. This one immediately struck my fancy. Not only was it the first one listed in the cake section, it also looked easy as pie.  Evy Kulver's award-winning Rhubarb Sour Cream Cake, from the "Ritzy Rhubarb Secrets Cookbook." "The judges awarded Evy a blue ribbon. They said that selecting the winning cakes was a difficult task as they all looked nice. A traditional flavor was looked for. They liked the crunchy texture and nuts with a good fresh flavor. 'Simple recipes are good.'" How's that for the most North Dakotan review ever? But they're not wrong. This is a simple recipe with good, fresh flavor. No butter to soften and mixes up in a flash. The sour cream provides the fat and moisture in the recipe, and the baking soda reacts with the acidity in the sour cream to create lift, with help from the egg. Rhubarb-Sour Cream Cake RecipeHere's how Evy's original recipe reads: 1 egg 1 cup sugar 1 cup sour cream 1 1/2 cups flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 cups rhubarb, cut up Topping: 1/2 brown sugar and as many nuts as you like Beat eggs, sugar, and sour cream together. Add flour, soda, and salt. Mix well. Add rhubarb. Pour into greased and floured 13x9 pan. Sprinkle topping over cake. Bake at 350 for 35-40 minutes. Here's my adaptation, because since Dad doesn't bake, some of the ingredients were a bit lacking. The main one being I substituted nonfat plain Greek yogurt for the full fat dairy sour cream. Still turned out wonderfully, though! 1 egg 1 cup sugar (Mom only had raw sugar) 1 cup nonfat Greek yogurt 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 tablespoon vegetable oil (skip if using full fat yogurt or sour cream) 1 1/2 cups flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt at least 2 cups chopped rhubarb 1 tablespoon raw sugar 1/4 cup sliced almonds Grease and flour a 9"x13" glass baking dish and preheat the oven to 350 F. Chop fresh rhubarb in advance. If using frozen, thaw and drain. Whisk the egg, sugar, yogurt, vegetable oil, and vanilla together. Add the flour, baking soda, and salt and stir quickly with wooden spoon. Add rhubarb and stir to combine, then pour into greased and floured baking dish and spread evenly. Work quickly as the baking soda will instantly start to react with the acid in the yogurt (probably a big slower with dairy sour cream). Sprinkle with sliced almonds, and then sprinkle sugar on top. Bake at 350 F for 30-40 minutes, or until top is golden brown. This makes a springy, delicious cake that would be good with any type of berry as well. Serve plain or with whipped cream, warm or cold. The rhubarb is not sweetened, so the sugar on top is necessary, along with the full cup of sugar in the batter. If you like your desserts very sweet, toss the rhubarb in sugar to coat before baking. But for me this was just perfect.  The rhubarb cake baked up nicely, even in two slightly different sized pans. The smaller one on the left got about 5 minutes longer as I made that one first, but that one on the right cooked quicker because it was less thick.  On the front porch with one of Mom's beautiful Scandinavian tablecloths and the "Ritzy Rhubarb Secrets Cookbook." This cake was so easy it is definitely going in regular rotation. It will probably be a little more tender and moist with real sour cream, or full-fat yogurt, than the nonfat kind, however. But I could see it easily adapting to each fruit harvest as it comes in - rhubarb, strawberries, sour cherries, raspberries, blueberries, peaches, plums, blackberries, etc. And of course, you can always slice and freeze raw rhubarb for wintertime baking. Litchville is a very small town in Barnes County in the Eastern half of the state, and clearly there are lots of rhubarb experts there! The cookbook has approximately 150 pages of recipes, everything from the more traditional like cakes, pies, and preserves, to beverages, breads, and salads. Rhubarb culture is strong in the Upper Midwest, especially North Dakota, because the cold climate makes it difficult to grow most fruits. Rhubarb thrives in cold and neglect. North Dakota's long, cold winters, and cool, wet springs are perfect for rhubarb, which needs a certain number of below-freezing days in the winter to produce. Certainly the rhubarb I planted in New York is doing much less well. According to Ritzy Rhubarb, "Rhubarb is an enigma. Botanically it is a vegetable, but legally it is a fruit. A court ruling in Buffalo, New York, on July 17, 1947, declared it a fruit because its use in the home is similar to that of other fruits." Rhubarb is related to buckwheat, and only the stalk is edible. The leaves contain a toxic amount of oxalic acid (what makes rhubarb sour) and should not be eaten. The stalks, which range in color from pale green to ruby red, are a sour treat after a long winter. Mom and others of her generation remember going out to the garden with a cup of sugar and a paring knife and dipping the raw rhubarb stalks in the sugar to eat. That's a little too sour for me, but a fun childhood memory. I like rhubarb in everything from pie, bars, cakes, breads and jams to more savory applications like mixing rhubarb sauce with garlic and eating it with chicken or pork. Yum. Do you have a favorite way to eat rhubarb? The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. Join us for awesome members-only content like free digitized cookbooks from my personal collection, e-newsletter, and even snail mail from time to time! Don't like Patreon? Leave a tip!  Last week I went home to Fargo, ND for my grandfather's funeral. He had passed away in June of this year, just a few weeks short of his 102nd birthday. Born in 1919, he lived to see a lot of change and ultimately, two global pandemics. It was the first time I had been home since 2019, when I returned for grandpa's 100th birthday and a cousin's wedding. Every time I go home to North Dakota, there's both joy and grief. Joy in seeing old friends and family, in visiting the old stomping grounds, in being able to see the whole sky without too many trees and mountains in the way, and being back in the land where Scandinavian culture still looms large (I went to the Sons of Norway, Kringen Lodge, four times in six days). But also grief, for what once was and will never be again. The common sort of grief when the stomping grounds change almost beyond recognition, but also another sort of grief, of cultural loss. When I was in high school, North Dakota had two Democratic Senators and a Democratic Representative and our biggest exports were wheat, sunflower seeds, honey, and sugar beets. Things have certainly changed since then. But some things haven't changed at all. Case in point: the North Dakota Caramel Roll (pronounced "car-mull," not "care-ah-mel"), formerly called "Dakota Rolls." Once the purview of rural cafes and church basements, the caramel roll is seeing something of a North Dakota renaissance. It's everywhere, and it's amazing.  Caramel rolls, cinnamon rolls, and cookies the size of my head, on display at The Shack in North Fargo, ND. Not to be confused with cinnamon rolls or the sad, dried out, caramel roll cousin, the "sticky bun," caramel rolls are pillowy soft and drenched in smooth caramel. There's nothing worse than getting a caramel roll that's more roll than caramel. The Northeast can keep its dry and sticky buns with burnt pecans. I tried my best to track down the history of "Dakota rolls," but sadly no one else appears to have done the research yet, so this is my stab at it. I think perhaps their prominence in North Dakota has to do with the specific confluence of immigration that makes North Dakota - especially the Eastern half of the state - special when compared to others. Scandinavians, especially Norwegians, abound. Germans, too, but one particular group, Germans from Russia, have settled on the northern plains, including North Dakota, in higher concentrations than anywhere else in the world. The intersection of Scandinavian and German immigration has meant that North Dakota is home to some prodigious bakers. Cinnamon rolls are thought to have originated in Scandinavia, possibly Sweden. They were also historically popular in Germany, where the sticky bun or "schnecken" (snail) is from. Honey-sweetened buns date back to ancient Rome, but the idea to roll the dough flat, spread it with a filling, and roll it into a spiral before slicing was an inspiration whose inventor is lost to time. Caramel rolls specifically seem to date to the early 20th century in North Dakota. I did find a few 19th century references to "sticky buns," but no recipes. The search term "caramel roll" turns up almost exclusively candy advertisements and recipes until the 1920s. I did find one reference to caramel rolls from the Hughes Brothers Bakery in Bismarck, ND. Although the bakery itself predates 1911, they moved to a new location that year, and apparently began engaging in regular newspaper advertisements thereafter.  Hughes Bros. Bakery advertisement mentioning Caramel Rolls, "Bismarck Tribune," September 23, 1927.  Hughes Bros. Bakery advertisement mentioning Caramel Rolls, "Bismarck Tribune," May 25, 1928. I love the 1928 advertisement - "Let us do your baking these hot days," and published close to Memorial Day, no less! "Why spend time fussing about doing your own baking when we can and will gladly do it for you at less cost than you can do it yourself?" Why, indeed, Hughes Brothers. Why, indeed? Likely coinciding with the rise of diners, roadside cafes, and school cafeterias, the caramel roll expanded across North Dakota (and into some neighboring states, notably South Dakota) with a vengeance. Although there is little mention of them in North Dakota community cookbooks from the 1940s, by the 1970s they're in full evidence. The few recipes that I was able to find are remarkably similar, and all call for making the dough from scratch. But some modern bakers cheat and use frozen bread dough, notably Rhodes brand. My copy of the Westminster Presbyterian Church cookbook from Casselton, ND, undated but likely circa 1970s, judging by the handwriting, has a recipe for "Dakota Rolls" submitted by Mrs. William L. Guy. Mr. William L. Guy was governor of North Dakota from 1961-1973, and the Mrs. was Elizabeth "Jean" (Mason) Guy, who is credited with helping revive the Democratic Nonpartisan League in North Dakota (thanks for the research tip, Mom!). I've reproduced Jean's recipe in full below. Dakota Rolls Recipe1 c. scalded milk (do not boil) 2 T. butter 2 T. sugar 1 t. salt 1 cake compressed or 1 pkg. granulated yeast 1/4 c. lukewarm water 1 egg, well beaten 3 1/2 c. flour (about) Soften yeast in lukewarm water. Stir and let stand about 5 minutes. Combine milk, sugar, salt and shortening (i.e. the butter) and cool to lukewarm. Stir yeast and add to cooled milk. Beat egg, add to milk and yeast mixture. Gradually stir in the flour to form a soft dough (there should be about 1/2 cup flour left for kneading). Beat until smooth. Turn out on floured canvas or board. Cover with greased wax paper and a damp towel. Let rest for 10 minutes. Knead until smooth and satiny, adding flour as needed. This roll dough should not be too firm. Place dough in a warm greased bowl, turning until all of surface is lightly greased. Cover with greased wax paper and damp towel, and let rise in a warm place (85-90 F) about 1 hour and 45 minutes or until double in bulk. Punch down and let rise again until double in bulk. Turn out on flour dusted canvas or board and roll about 1/4" thick in oblong shape, 8" x 16". Brush with melted butter and sprinkle with 1/4 cup brown sugar. Roll as for cinnamon rolls. Cut in 1" slices. Combine 1 C. of brown sugar, 2 T. light corn syrup, and 1 T. butter. Heat slowly in a greased shallow pan or muffin tin. Set aside to cool. Place rolls, cut side down, over the mixture. Cover, let rise until double in bulk. Bake in 375 F oven for 25 minutes. Remove from pan. Cool, bottom side up. Makes 2 dozen rolls. It seems to me that this recipe, while very instructive in terms of the dough, has not nearly enough caramel to cover two dozen rolls. Modern cooks usually combine brown sugar and heavy cream, or some even swear that melted vanilla ice cream is the secret to good and ample caramel. However, the 1975 Fargo-Moorhead Centennial Cookbook also has a recipe for Dakota Rolls, submitted by Judy Adams, which appears to be lifted almost verbatim from the Casselton cookbook. Here's a more caramel-y modern recipe. Sadly, I haven't had time to test this recipe and it's been too hot to bake lately, but fall weather is coming! So maybe a weekend of yeast baking is in order soon. Perhaps I'll combine my caramel roll baking with orange rolls - another Midwestern specialty that seemed to be more prominent in the 1930s and '40s than their caramelly cousins. I'll leave you with one of the few photos I took at home - sunset on Tamarack Lake in Minnesota. And if you're ever in Fargo, try the rhubarb caramel rolls (yes! they put rhubarb in the bottom with the caramel! It's amazing!) at Kroll's Diner. They're divine.  The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. 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AuthorSarah Wassberg Johnson has an MA in Public History from the University at Albany and studies early 20th century food history. Archives
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