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It’s Sunday and we didn’t go to church today. Dad came down with pneumonia but he’s pushing through. He said, “I told the Lord He could take me but I’d really appreciate a little more time because I have more stories to tell!”

I stayed home too and don’t assume it’s because the Packers are playing. I don’t watch games unless there is a party or they make it to the playoffs. I woke up a little under the weather but my husband knows one way to perk me up–Morning Buns!

I still remember the day I had my first Morning Bun. I was working after school at Gimbel’s Department Store downtown. I was always ravenous at the end of the school day and it was there, in the Gimbel’s Bakery, that I met my first Bun.

I had never tasted anything so good. Morning Buns have the most incredible mixture of moist chewiness and crunch. You know how a bakery smells? It can stop me in my tracks. These Buns taste even better than they smell and involve all of your senses as you devour one.

So, after I made my purchase all those years ago, that’s exactly what I did. Devoured it and I still remember the experience. I couldn’t eat it fast enough. Since that time, I’ve learned about self control. I have outgrown the days of eating ice cream directly from the container–excluding the pints. Gone also is spooning Toll House batter into my mouth instead of onto the cookie sheet–a dab will do. I no longer leave an inch of wine at the bottom of the bottle just to say I didn’t drink the entire thing. Self-control. With God’s grace, a little goes a long way.

Morning Buns are to be eaten one layer at a time—like wine, savored one sip at a time—paying attention to the flavors, identifying them, and appreciating what it took to get from the wheat kernel or the grape into your mouth.

Food, like people, should be the real thing. Nothing artificial—and you’ll be satisfied without excess.

These buns are kind of messy—they flake. A lot. You get the sugary cinnamon coating all over your hands so you need a napkin to eat one. Examine the bun carefully to find the best starting point. I’ve never made any myself but they look like they are rolled into shape–I like to find that seam where the roll of dough ends and is nudged securely into place. I start there, pulling it back until it cracks off. This is my first bite. Crunch. From there, the layers are limitless.



If you can succeed in peeling off a single layer, it will lie on your tongue like a fresh sheet against your skin. It hovers there, melting. I never knew dough could melt until I ate a Morning Bun. The inside is the opposite of the exterior—soft and dewy. It’s like the pearl in an oyster—the prize of the pastry. Take your time getting there.


Mm Mmmm

Sip your coffee, read the paper. Just be sure to fully enjoy each bite–it’s special, set apart from other pastries and donuts like Sundays are set apart from other days of the week. So enjoy your Bun along with your day of rest and worship!

Honey, can you please get me a napkin?

Red, can you please put down that camera and get me a napkin?


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