Presiders get their nourishment from cornmeal dusted kaiser rolls. Nurturers enjoy mini-croissants.
You might ask how I have learned this mystery of the kingdom, and I would answer: through the careful observation of traditional rolls in the church. Now and then the men in my ward decide to do something nice for the women. Maybe it is Enrichment night, maybe it is the Relief Society birthday party. The occasion doesn’t matter, because the menu is invariably the same: mini-croissants filled with chicken, grape, and cashew salad, served with cut fruit, with small brownies about 1 inch square for dessert. This dinner always takes place in the gym, and we menfolk set up the round tables with nice tablecloths and china brought from home.
Sometimes the Relief Society returns the favor, and prepares a nice meal for the men of the ward. The venue is the nursery room (presumably because that is where messes are allowed, and where one feeds and waters people who smush goldfish crackers into the carpet). We sit at long tables covered with paper, and queue up in the chow line to serve ourselves on paper plates. We get kaiser rolls onto which we fork great heaping quantities of smoked beef brisket drenched in barbecue sauce. We serve ourselves potato salad and cole slaw, dipped directly from the tub it was bought in. Dessert is make-your-own ice cream sundaes, and nobody counts the scoops.
Since this has been the tradition for as long as I can remember, it is safe to say that this is how it always should be. I expect to eat barbecue on a kaiser roll for time and all eternity.