Not Cinnabon.

For breakfast on the weekdays, I usually bring a hard boiled egg to work, or a slice of Hawaiian sweet bread, or a packet of instant oatmeal, or a bagel. And I'll eat at my desk with a cup of coffee and a bottle of water, enjoying the quiet morning before everyone else arrives.



Then there are those days (too many, actually) when I'm just too lazy or running too late to grab breakfast from home. On those days, I usually stop at a cafe in my building for an egg and cheese sandwich. Other days I give in to the breakfast sandwiches at Dunkin' Donuts or the overpriced bagels at Au Bon Pain. One day last week, I completely lost control of my own two legs and walked straight into McDonald's for an egg mcmuffin and hash browns. By the time I could tell myself, No, this is wrong, you'll regret it later, I had already ordered. Oops.

But despite the fact that I pass by two from Union Station to my office, Cinnabon never gets to me.



I'll pass by and smell the cinnamon and catch a glimpse of the ooey gooeys every once in a while and get a small craving, but I can never justify buying one. Of all the things I do not need to eat for breakfast, Cinnabon is quite high on the list.

So on one particular week, when my craving for cinnamon buns was unusually strong, I decided to finally do something about it: I asked Jenny to bake some for me.



Now this was way back in the beginning of March, around the time of my birthday, and she was all set to make a batch of brownies for my birthday. So when I requested cinnamon buns, she was a little surprised. But she did it.

And they were awesome.



They were sweet, sticky, gooey, crispy, sugary, soft, and chewy all at the same time. We had them for dessert after my birthday dinner and after lunch the next day, and I made sure to leave at least one for breakfast during the week, to eat while at my desk, enjoying the quiet morning.