Once upon a time I was in the Arndale Centre... Acually, given that I was walking through the Arndale Centre about to hit Market Street, my host hated of all streets, and that the Arndale Centre itself isn't my favourite place in the world (save for the food market and a couple of its indie shops), I was actually hurtling towards the doors with my Don't-F**k-With-Me death stare plastered on my chops. And then I heard those words that lighten anyone's heart, lift everyone's mood.
'Would you like a free sample?'
Of what?! Something smelled good. Oh lordy lord. It was a warm, gooey chunk of freshly baked cinnamon roll from that Rollers place I'd peered over at a few times when coming down the escalator, but never been Arndale-bound long enough to partake in. I'd admired its balls from afar. Cojones, as opposed to balls of dough - they've set up shop next to a Gregg's. We all know that being anywhere near a Gregg's is the kiss of death for people offering pastry, because overall, the general public are daft enough to stick with what they know. So greedily I took the largest, splodgiest toothpick-impaled cinnamon hunk and continued my scuttle, popping it into my mouth as I went along.
And then I stopped. Sheer sensory overload forced me to stop, people. I gave Rollers a sidelong glance. Would it be wrong of me to get a box of four to go? Six? Eighteen? One hundred and twelve? I had never, ever experienced a taste sensation like this before. The dough was warm. The frosting was melty and so sweet, if it were human it'd be Melanie Linskey as Clea Mason in The L Word (bless: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcNw1DcLMs8). The ripple of buttery cinnamon beat the hell out of any supermarket pastry. These people... they were the cinnamon roll equivalent of drug pushers! They'd given me my first taste for free and now I was going to be losing a lot of money to them. And when my better half, his sis and I were trundling about his new apartment this morning wondering what to do for breakfast, then wandered past a closed Engine House and he said, 'What about that cinnamon roll place you mentioned?', I didn't need telling twice. As soon as we arrived we were given loads of information about the available rolls, flavours and the deals they had - a roll and a coffee or milkshake for £3.50, which we snapped up. Li'l sis and I were torn between a classic cinnamon and the pecan caramel topped version, so we opted for one each and split them - she and the boy-type had strawberry milkshakes and I opted for the black stuff, which was excellent, while the ice-creamy drinks were exactly the kind I liked. And the rolls were just amazing. The secret is the cream cheese frosting they add to the top before they serve them, melting over these warm doughy buns... it's just utter filthy food porn.
Oh and they're Manchester independents too. Score! So please visit these guys and indulge. Just don't blame me if your pants don't fit in a fortnight. read more