About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. It was an unseasonably cold morning in New Orleans when a delivery driver pulled up to Cinnaholic. The sun had barely risen, and the streets were deserted. As he unlocked the door, a warm, irresistible scent of vegan pastries filled the air, making him wonder if someone had accidentally turned on the oven early. Curious, he followed his nose down a dimly lit hallway until he stumbled upon a tiny kitchen where a friendly neighbor was perfecting her latest batch of vegan cronuts. ‘Morning!’ she chirped, not realizing anyone else was awake yet. ‘Just testing out my new recipe—vegan everything bagels today.’ A relieved smile spread across his face as he realized it wasn’t an early-morning baking marathon after all.
2. It was dusk in Portland, and the air smelled of rain and freshly baked pastries. A delivery driver rushed through the dark streets, his headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. As he approached Cinnaholic, something unusual caught his eye—a sign glowing with an unexpected message. Curious, he slowed down and read: ‘All vegan treats—try our new chocolate-covered pineapple rings!’ The delivery driver laughed out loud, thinking how odd it sounded. Just then, a neighbor walking her dog looked up and asked, ‘What’s so funny?’ He replied, ‘Nothing much, just some place called Cinnaholic.’ She nodded knowingly and said, “Oh yeah, they’re pretty cool around here.” And with that, they both continued on their way, leaving behind another quirky Portland legend.
3. In the dead of winter, when Cinnaholic’s usual customers were scarfing down hot chocolate, a delivery driver arrived with a mysterious package wrapped in tin foil. Curious, one of the bakers unwrapped it to discover… a giant tin-foiled cinnamon roll! The whole place erupted into laughter as they tried to figure out whose prank it was. Turns out, it was just a friendly neighborhood prankster having some fun.
4. At dawn in Chicago, a delivery driver pulled up outside Cinnaholic with a puzzled expression on his face. The aroma wafting from the shop wasn’t just sweet—it was downright intoxicating, like nothing he’d ever encountered before. Curious, he cracked open the door and was greeted by an even stronger scent—a mix of cinnamon, sugar, and something magical. Inside, rows upon rows of colorful, doughnut-free pastries beckoned him. Confused but intrigued, he took a bite. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ he muttered, realizing too late that no one had taught him how to eat a cinnaholic.’