The Cinnamon Roll — here’s one in captivity.
The foot long, three pound cinnamon roll heralds from Lulu’s Cafe, just a few steps north of downtown.
What it does, besides, they do ship, what it does is evoke a fond memory. My maternal grandmother, a true Southern woman in her own right, she used to orchestrate cinnamon bread, mostly in the winter holidays. There was one, warm slice of Lulu’s Bakery goodness, the three-pounder, and that one slice brought back a flood of those childhood memories.
I ordered one for Sister, and as I rattled off the address, “Emma,” taking the bakery order, then, as I got to the town’s name, ends in “beach,” she noted it must be CA.
See if the mammoth roll is equally evocative for Sister, the folds of yeasty goodness wrapped around sugar and cinnamon.
Vincit Qui Primum Gerit
