Sometimes when I walked into the bakery or now the restaurant where I cook I wonder 'How did I get here?" And I think back to Vienna, and your mother's rolls (which I never tasted) that you described to me. They maybe had cream in them. Not sweet. Crusty. And I imagined them and baked for weeks trying to replicate that taste for you. I am still baking. I am still trying to find your mother's rolls in my cupboard of dry good.