Searching

Have you ever seen a picture or read a review of something and it stuck in your mind like a little seed waiting to sprout? Every now and then you think about it and you want the item, but time passes and you forget that you wanted it . . .  until something comes along to remind you of this thing.

This is the story of the search for a cinnamon roll.

As we are watching the Today show, the rumbling from deep in the stomach begins on a dreary, dark, morning. My husband announces, “I’m hungry. I will go and get cinnamon rolls. I don’t need it but that’s what sounds good right now.”

Sidebar explanation: Recently a local magazine listed the five best cinnamon rolls in town. The number one roll is at a bakery downtown that has very select hours. We have tried to sample their rolls before, but with no luck. This is the seed that has been planted in my husband’s mind. It has been growing and festering ever since he saw that article.

Back to the present: Off he goes to get this elusive cinnamon roll. I continue to watch the Today show, sipping my coffee. Soon my phone is ringing, it’s my husband, “Are you sure this is the place? They don’t open until eight.” (it was 7:55)

“I think you are at the right place, let me check the magazine.” Quickly I find the correct issue and yes, I can verify he is at the right place. “Well, you only have five minutes to wait,” I say encouragingly as I anticipate the giant roll in my future.

8:02 my phone rings again, (I think I may have to decide on a frosting flavor. I will go with vanilla.) “They stopped making cinnamon rolls on the 17th except for special orders,” the disappointed voice says.

“Okay, well let’s try another another one. Elle’s Patisserie is on Cherry Street (not too far from where he is), go there,” I reply.

“I’m going to Artisan Ovens, I know where that one is,” he tells me tossing aside my suggestion. I remind him that bakery is on the other side of town, and Elle’s is closer. No, that is not what he wants to do. So, he is off and heading to Artisan Ovens. I decide this would be a good time to fit in my shower before he arrives home with the goodies. Once I am back on the couch I check my phone and there is a missed call. Guess who. I call back.

“They don’t open until nine (it was 8:30 when he called) so I am on my way to Cherry Street. These had better be good!”

I make more coffee and shortly after nine the car pulls into the garage. The bag is dropped on the counter by someone wearing a frustrated look.

After an hour and a half journey, we warmed the roll and enjoyed it with a cup of fresh coffee. Just what you need on a dreary dark morning.

Sidebar funny: I was in the Artisan Ovens later that morning, and guess what . . . they didn’t have any cinnamon rolls. They only make them on Wednesday and Saturday. 🙂