When I was about six years old I visited my Aunt Gin in Benton, Arkansas, where she and Uncle Doc lived at the time. She fixed Pillsbury cinnamon rolls for breakfast. From then on, every time I visited her and my cousins, even after they moved to Memphis, I always asked for cinnamon rolls for breakfast. I thought they were something special that could only be bought where she lived. I think I was a teenager before I realized the rolls could be bought anywhere at any grocery store. From that point on, I made sure my mom bought some whenever she went to the grocery store. I am 66 years old now, and if it were not for a little self-control, I could still eat the whole can when my wife fixes them on Sunday morning before church. —-Grisham Phillips