Seeking cinnamon roll
My epic quest across state lines for a baked good.
To understand the nature of my quest, we must first define a cinnamon roll. A cinnamon roll (or cinnamon bun) is a yeast-leavened sweet bread, with a cinnamon sugar butter mixture rolled into the dough. Some people (not I) may add raisins to their dough before baking; most add cream cheese icing afterward. Wikipedia agrees with me on this.
In my hometown, I typically purchased cinnamon rolls at the grocery store or IKEA, or a local bakery if I was feeling fancy. Living in a major city, I have coffee shops, grocery stores, donut shops, and a bakery within walking distance. Logically, I thought could purchase a cinnamon roll at any one of these establishments. But I was WRONG.
The coffee shops only sold croissants. The grocery stores only sold cupcakes and cakes. The donut shops tried to sell me a donut in the shape of a cinnamon roll which was clearly still just a donut. The bakery was a German bakery and only sold pretzels and kirschtorte. I went out of my way to an Asian bakery – no luck. I tracked down a food truck that had beautiful cinnamon roll pictures in their reviews – they don't make them any more. I even went to Whole Foods, which the Internet assured me had cinnamon rolls, only to find that this location didn't have any!
I considered making them from scratch, but decided against it, since you can't make just one and I would ultimately end up eating all of them. After months of dead ends, I decided to set all thoughts of cinnamon roll aside, and enjoy my upcoming road trip.
Several days into our trip, we were passing through Utah, when I spotted a sign for a local bakery. Best baked goods in Utah! it promised, here in the very town we were currently driving through! Hurriedly pulling up their location on my phone, I scrolled through their reviews, hopeful. I spotted a swirl covered in what must be cream cheese icing, and allowed myself to get excited. We pulled into the parking lot of what turned out to be a very popular bakery. I waited in a long queue while my companions stretched their legs and used the toilet, before finally coming up to the counter and cheerfully ordering "One cinnamon roll and a chai latte, please". A short while later, I walked out of there with a box in hand1 and a huge smile on my face.
Settling back into the passenger seat for another long stretch, I eagerly opened the box and took a big bite, only to discover that under the (frankly excessive) amounts of cream cheese frosting2 was a croissant! Flaky laminated pastry in the shape of a cinnamon roll. Tasty though it might have been, it was not what I was hoping for. We drove on.
We passed through more states, had some misadventures, and ate at various places. No luck. At the end of the week, I returned home with a full heart, but no cinnamon roll.
A month later, having finally recovered from an intense and wonderful trip, I made plans to spend time with family. We drove out early in the morning, successfully beating most of the city traffic and making it to the interstate. Not long after, we decided it was time for a second cup of tea and a driver change. We pulled into Black Bear Diner, the only half decent option for miles.
Once again, I stood in the queue while the rest of my group stretched their legs and used the toilet. A sign on the display case claimed that cinnamon rolls were available, but not having seen any inside the display case, I found it hard to believe and just ordered the teas. I waited, and waited, for the rest of my party. After waiting ten minutes, I decided it was a sign that I should go for the cinnamon roll. No sooner had I placed the order, then they came back and were forced to wait an additional five minutes for my cinnamon roll.
Once again, I walked out with a box in my hand and settled into the passenger seat. The moment had finally come. I opened the box, my enthusiasm only slightly dampened by the to-go cinnamon roll and icing being packaged separately, and dug in. It wasn't the greatest cinnamon roll I'd ever had, but there, hurdling along the interstate at 80 mph, it was pretty damn good.
So that's the end of this little drama. What's the moral of the story? No idea, I just really wanted a cinnamon roll. I get obsessive like that sometimes, which may or may not be one of my autistic tendencies. But that's a story for another time.
Until then! - y