Cinnabon...how I love thee

I first discovered Cinnabons when I was too young to care about fat, calories and other nutritional considerations. The only Cinnabon I knew of was in Vancouver and though I had never been to Vancouver, I would heat them up and eat them for breakfast whenever I could get my grubby little hands on a box.

While my mom was strict, she was oddly permissive with regards to nutrition and food. Given that cake was considered a breakfast food in my household, donuts and Cinnabons clearly fell within the realm of legitimate breakfasts. (To her credit, I have a fairly healthy view of food.) Loosely translated, she ascribed to a "natural" view on food. Basically, whatever your body craves is what it needs...Cinnabons included.

I spent a month in Vancouver (a.k.a. "The Magical Land of Cinnabons") while in high school and I ate a Cinnabon everyday. It wasn't until several years later, when I discovered just how unhealthy they were, that I realized my slight weight gain that summer had been incorrectly attributed to a latent "growth spurt."

My heart still flutters at the thought of Cinnabons, but I consume them more judiciously. Last fall when Greg, Nina and I went to DC for work, Greg kept egging me to get a Cinnabon when we got to the airport because there was a stand right next to our gate. I had just eaten a huge dinner at TenPenh and couldn't fathom eating a Cinnabon, but I finally acquiesced mainly because I figured out that Greg was really saying he wanted to eat a Cinnabon and also because they smelled too delicious to pass up. The three of us quickly split one before boarding our flight home. No matter how full I am I've never regretted making room for a Cinnabon...they're positively sublime.