A Taste of Home: How Pepperoni Rolls Connect Me to My Roots
Image courtesy of Unsplash
Three months after my dad died, my mom and I held a celebration of life for him. We invited our family and my parents’ closest friends. My aunts and uncles came up from Florida, along with my cousin Brooks. Our group filled a room at the golf club my parents belonged to; a looping slideshow with pictures of Pop set to some of his favorite songs played in the background. We figured it was the best way to honor his life: a gathering in a space that was comfortable and familiar, surrounded by those who knew him and loved him most.
Someone had to deliver his eulogy. It took about a millisecond for me to realize that I would be the one to write it and give it that day. I wasn’t sure I would be able to get through it, but, amazingly, I did.
After I finished, I sat back down at my table and my cousin Brooks leaned over and said quietly, “Cuz, I’ve got pepperoni rolls in the car.” His conspiratorial whisper implied we were engaged in some clandestine drug deal. But, no. We were trafficking in the comfort foods of our youth, the Italian-inspired pepperoni rolls that were standard fare in all of the major events of our lives. Today was no exception.
Brooks had made two dozen pepperoni rolls before he made the 300 mile drive to Georgia. After the eulogy he walked out to his car and brought back in a gallon Ziploc bag filled with delicious dough pockets stuffed with spicy pepperoni.
The official state food of West Virginia, pepperoni rolls are a staple for funerals, wakes, and periods of convalescence. Southerners bring casseroles in times of crisis; West Virginians bring pepperoni rolls.
The recipe in its simplest form is bread dough and sliced stick pepperoni. Some people make their own dough; some people use frozen rolls. (Bridgford is the only acceptable brand to use). Some folks like to add cheese to their pepperoni rolls, but in my family that’s tantamount to blasphemy.
Like so much of West Virginia’s history, the pepperoni roll has its roots in coal mining. Early in the twentieth century, coal miners needed a nourishing, protein-packed meal they could carry down into the mines without the danger of spoilage. Waves of Italian immigrants had landed in northern West Virginia because of the booming coal industry, and the pepperoni roll was a natural outgrowth of the collision of culture and necessity.
Two bakeries vie for the proprietary title of originator of the pepperoni roll: Tomaro's Bakery in Clarksburg and Country Club Bakery in Fairmont. For my family, Tomaro’s is the only way to go. No trip to the northern part of the state was complete without a stop there to stock up on a couple of bags of their signature dish.
In the 1980s, the USDA attempted to outlaw pepperoni rolls because the meat was hidden inside the dough and not visible for inspection. US Senator Jay Rockefeller from West Virginia intervened, and the government made an exception for the state’s official food.
For years my Grandma Bice was the queen of the pepperoni rolls, her nimble fingers forming perfect pouches of dough. My parents made delicious pepperoni rolls for years, but my cousin Brooks makes the best ones, hands down. My dad always bragged on Brooks who had many times over made batches numbering in the hundreds to take on fishing and hunting trips.
I called him the other day while he and Brandy were out on the water fishing.
“Brooks, what makes your pepperoni rolls so much better than everyone else’s? My dad said for years that you do something to them that sets them apart.”
“You can’t let them rise,” he said. “I know the recipe says so, but if you do, they get too big and doughy. Oh, and sometimes you may need a little touch of flour because the dough gets sticky, but you don’t want to use too much because then it shows on the roll.”
His secrets revealed at last!
Five hours later he sent me this: “The pepperoni roll has traveled to the Keys for lobster trips, Virginia, Big Eye in the Outer Banks, all the way to the Great Lakes, diving the shipwrecks. I can’t tell you how many times she has filled the bellies of duck hunters in the duck blind, fishermen, and deep water divers -- so many trips that pepperoni roll has traveled.”
A beautiful, poetic tribute to a cherished part of our shared childhood experiences.
For best results, DO NOT allow the dough to rise!
Image courtesy of author
