My husband’s Grandmother could create magical butterhorn crescent rolls from scratch. They were buttery, flaky little treasures that would flush the cheeks of Betty Crocker. After years of enjoying these tasty treats on holidays and special occasions, I summoned up the courage and made the request for her recipe. She humbly complied with my request and carefully scripted the top-secret formula on a 3 x 5 index card. I excitedly returned to my kitchen where I spent the next 2 weeks painstakingly following the directions she so carefully transcribed. Each attempt resulted in varying degrees of disaster leaving me to question my culinary proficiency. Following every embarrassing result I would phone her in hopes she could diagnose the issue. The response I received with…
