Jesus Breaks the Raisin Bun
Hot Cross Buns: Where to eat and why
Good afternoon Morsels has arrived. This is the fourth newsletter arriving just in time for hot cross buns and all they are worth.
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Jesus Breaks the Raisin Bun
It is so easy to attribute a fascination or any sort of affection for food as an attachment of our youth. The hot cross buns of Easter are thrown into that pantry of childhood sanctity. Like the sanctity of Christ, our childhood memories of hot cross buns shall never be tampered with. We love them or hate them either because of our childhood or in spite of our childhood.
I think it’s too easy to place our adoration of hot cross buns on childhood, dismissed as nostalgia, the affection categorised lazily as ‘Proustian1'. Realistically, everything we experienced from the kitchen as children can be justified or experienced as ‘Proustian’ as an adult, and declared a ‘madeleine’ moment2.’ In fact it’s the go to for any food writer who can’t quite figure out how to explore a topic in the present. The justification for their words is based on the memory of the family table, everyone sitting around and encouraging them to eat an oyster or some such thing. Or, at this time of year, attributing a deep connection with hot cross buns to the smell of the kitchen as a child year in year out:the melting butter, the scolding hot raisins.
I understand that we all have had experiences like this. I’ve only had one ‘madeleine moment,’ true and proper. It was well before I ever read Proust or understood it’s meaning as metaphor in literature or even truly understood the power of food in memory at all3. I was working at a restaurant in Brisbane. I was out the back at the pass waiting for some food, and the chef handed me a spoonful of chestnut honey. Immediately I was thrown into my grandmother’s kitchen and sat in front of a bowl of her spag bowl. I jumped, I span, I started to cry. I thought finally, here it is, the secret ingredient.
It wasn’t a secret ingredient, not at all. Instead it was the sweet savouriness of the honey that linked the memory with the taste. My maternal grandmother - Vera - was Syrian, she made a spag bowl that was sweet. Like a good gravy, she added sweetness and extra tang with tomato sauce. I see that now.
Does the fact that chestnut honey had nothing to do with what I remembered eating detract from my experience? Does it devalue the memory or the feeling or the emotional connection I have to eating that food (both as a child with my grandmother, and later as an adult reliving it through honey)? I don’t believe it does. Yet I think it informs something much greater. We crave and attach meaning to what is scarce. Would Proust have had such a dramatic response to the madeleines if he walked past them every morning and every afternoon every day of the year? Would he even think twice about that tiny shell shaped cake if he had them available to him, on the table fresh from the oven every day of his life? I think the answer is no. I believe that if the madeleines had been available to him every day, alongside his tea, then the cake would have had absolutely no importance to him. In fact, what people fail to recognise in Proust’s work is that directly after his declaration of a transcendent eating experience he writes of exactly what I am trying to express. The more we eat something the less powerful its impact on us becomes:
‘I drink a second mouthful, in which I find nothing more than in the first, a third, which gives me rather less than the second. It is time to stop; the potion is losing its magic.’
When things are scarce, we hold them with greater value and reverence4. Think about the fabled Szechuan sauce released by McDonalds alongside the cinematic release of ‘Mulan’ and oftentimes referenced in the cult animated series ‘Rick and Morty5’; or the deeply missed ‘shaker’ fries of the mid 90s; the O.G rainbow paddle pops; the first pink iced buns from Bakers Delight. It’s the same reason people lament the changing of production methods of commercial biscuits, talk of the days when Arnotts Fingers were first covered with chocolate or talk whimsically about how much better Coca Cola is in Mexico or milo was when they were growing up. Not being able to access something increases it’s value and the strength of this sense of identity within it and around eating it.
I believe this is why people like hot cross buns so much. Most of the year, they don’t exist. Historically this has been the case for almost 500 years. In the late 16th Century Queen Elizabeth made it illegal to sell or eat hot cross buns unless in attachment to a burial, including of course Good Friday and for some reason, Christmas. If you were caught baking them outside of these designated times you were forced to give your buns to the poor. They were believed to have healing powers and if hung to dry on Good Friday would stay ‘not stale’ (I hesitate to say remain fresh because, well…bullshit) and could be nibbled on throughout the year if anyone in the house became ill. Which sounds preposterous and actually very unpleasant.
Even though they aren’t available to buy, people don’t tend to make them. You can make them, sure, but it’s a huge hassle. Well, maybe not a ‘huge’ hassle, but a hassle nonetheless (a recipe will be arriving in your inboxes tomorrow). More to the point, if people see hot cross buns outside of Easter, they think something is wrong. I worked at a bakery before I moved to Italy that tried to sell them beyond Easter. No one bought them, I remember one old man scoffing at the presence of them. They are attached to the day, officially to Lent, but really only to the weekend. After that they become meaningless. A fruitless endeavour to even try, you could say. The truth is, you would have more success putting all the ingredients into a tin and calling it a fruit loaf, which I have done and it’s fantastic. Freezes like a dream. Ideal with lemon curd butter. That combination is a rare treat and something to dream about much more than a hot cross bun.
—
In my experience hot cross buns do not live up to my expectations. They are often sad and overly yeasted and lacking in fruit. They lack spice and weight and texture from the glaze. They lack any sort of depth of flavour. Yes, they are good with butter but so is good bread. In fact, so is bad bread and at times paying up to $5 (and in London £6/ $12) per bun, I would derive a lot more pleasure from bread.
Every year they introduce new flavours to the shelves, like ‘burnt orange and chocolate,’ ‘apple and cinnamon,’ ‘dried grapefruit and cranberry,’ and ‘fruitless chocolate stuffed buns.’ At 36 I feel too young to be proclaiming my memories of time past when there was just one bun. Or the year (1998) I remember Bakers Delight introducing a fruitless hot cross bun for kids. Two seemed like too many to a lot of adults at the time. I’m sure it seemed like too many for all the kids with mature palates at the time (those insufferable little pricks).
This only reinforces my belief that it is the lack of hot cross buns throughout the year that breeds the yearning for them. If we had them on the shelves throughout the year, we would hardly discuss them at all. Or better yet, they may actually become worth discussing.
This isn’t to say I don’t like hot cross buns. I do. I love them. I eat them with cheese and butter and jam and lemon curd and I bake them into puddings. I dehydrate them and blend them into powders to dust over ice cream and I tear them up and mix them through ice cream as a chewy, buttery late evening treat.
I think about them throughout the year when Ican’t get them. I squeal with delight when I first see them in the shops and hunt and hunt and hunt every year for the hot cross bun that will prove to me that hot cross buns are worth loving. It’s settling, this searching. It gives meaning and offers hope, every year I feel like I get closer, an adventure limited to just the weeks leading up to Easter, that will always be certain, never changing in the opportunity it provides. In the not-so-recognisable words of Proust, as Scott Moncrieff’s translation has it:
‘Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves, and not anything else, by the immobility of our conception of them. For it always happened that when I awoke like this, and my mind struggled in an unsuccessful attempt to discover where I was, everything revolved around me through the darkness: things, places, years.’
Hot cross buns may just remind us where we are. And if that is what they do, it is enough. I am here in Brisbane, in Autumn, at Easter, enjoying a long weekend and an unreasonable amount of butter.
Which Bun is Best?
The top pick was entirely unexpected and surprisingly, leagues ahead of other buns in both flavour and price. It was really a no brainer. While I tried as many buns as I could in the weeks leading up to this piece there were sadly a few bakeries I visited who had sold out of hot cross buns by 7.30am each morning and as a result I was unable to try their buns. However, looking at the other baked goods on display at this bakeries I do imagine the buns i missed out on eating were not missed at all. In fact, it could be that it was a saving grace.
It is important to note I am in Brisbane. I would imagine and i hope that the offering of buns in Melbourne and Sydney is much greater. For your Easter I hope you are met with brilliant buns wherever they are from.
N.b I need to qualify something before I throw down my assessments. I only looked at traditional hot cross buns. I thought the commercial offering too wide to judge each category and to a degree somewhat unimportant. I am not a purist but i am not interested in the different spiced flavour combinations like apple and fenugreek available at Coles. That isn’t to say they aren't good. It’s just to say, at this point in time, I personally do not care about them. Further, we all know that if you put chocolate in a hot cross bun it will be good regardless of whether it is ‘actually’ good. Bread and chocolate is a big deal. Chocolate in a bun is good deal. If you double me afford me this one recommendation; buy your favourite chocolate, buy a nice baguette and eat that chocolate at room temperature in that baguette. It will be very very good.
BEST BUN
Aldi, Bakers Life Spiced Hot Cross Bun $2.99 / 4
This shocked the shit out of me. What a bun. The density and spice profile evident from the moment you pick up the packet and bring it to your nose. Even through the plastic Easter shines shines shines. It holds weight, smells great and balances butter wonderfully. It can hold itself against both a hard and soft cheese and when toasted maintains it’s structure to the bite. One of the best value buns and also the best tasting. The best part is that they are available in every store I imagine all around the country. This is my top pick for 2022 in Brisbane.
Other Buns
This list is not categorised or ordered in any way. I ate these buns over a two period leading up to this article going out in an effort to not oversaturate my palate.
Cake and Bake $2.80 / bun
It wasn’t good. Frugal on the fruit. Heavy on the yeast. The internal structure looking like it had ben both over proofed and equally somehow over baked at too low a temperature. There was a nice sweet spice to the dough, however, the dough was dry, so so dry. Dryer than the Simpson Desert. It toasted poorly, lost any flavour from the dough. Due to the lack of fruit, devastatingly under hydrated as a bun. One thing to note though and it's important to recognise - the cross was good. Thick, heavily glazed and chewy. Not enough to redeem it.
Flour and Chocolate $15 / 6
cranberries, raisins and sultanas, chewy dough but under-spiced and lacking in any real flavour due to a scarcity of fruit or defining spice combination. An enjoyable level of sweetness on the glaze that lingers through the palate and offers a competing texture while eating. Pleasant, not great.
Aldi Bakers Life Spiced Hot Cross Bun $2.99 /4
This was a curve ball for me. A dense, well spiced, long date hot cross bun from Aldi. It eats well fresh, it eats damn well toasted, it holds butter, it doesn’t play hot as if it’s been under-baked. It has good moisture content good spice content, an unexpectedly effective glaze. I have to say, this has to be the bun of the year so far. Aldi for the win. Aldi for the mother fuckin win.
Coles Original Hot cross bun
Look - all credit, for the price it’s ok but it's so heavily yeasted that the only flavour that comes through is that of the yeast used to rise the dough. When toasted it turns to mush on the inside indicating the dough was in the production process under-mixed and under-baked.
Sprout $4 / bun
A nice density and size to these buns but overall really lacking. Not enough fruit, no clear palate of spice, although a small sense of it while hot post toast. Under hydrated, frustratingly. I anticipated a dark fruit soak which was sadly missing but could have helped the hydration and the hot cross bun overall. No strong flavour, sadly a very average experience which was not at all what i had anticipated. To miss this bun is to miss nothing
Banneton $4 / bun
A real lack in spice and frugality of fruit. The density of a yeasted cake bun. It’s a sad impact on this one. Nice cranberry and candied peel throughout but just not enough, not nearly enough. An effective glaze that toasted well to become a chewy delight, allowing the sweetness to shine through. But those three bites weren’t quite enough sad that it is as if the best parts were the burnt parts of the glazed bun post toast.
Woolworths ‘Richly fruited’ hot cross buns $4.50 / 4
It’s true. The buns are richly fruited. That is the correct description of this bun. There is a lot of fruit in it. So much that you could be almost surprised that the name of the bun was so spot on. Imagine the development room at Woolworths where they sit around and come up with names for the buns. First there is the hot cross bun, simple an effective. Then comes in this doozie, what a joy so different. Some one kicks back complains that the amount of fruit is a bit ‘rich,’ exactly they say, we’ll call it just that. Genius was born in the name. Which is all there is really because apart from that this hot cross bun is a total piece of shit. Under mixed, under baked, overly processed ingredients you can taste the flour still raw in the bun however you eat it. When it's toasted it turns to mush. I don't think i have eaten a worse hot cross bun. Entirely and unacceptably unpleasant.
Agnes $3.50 / bun
I missed out three times to try and get hold of these hot cross buns. Eventually, after a sold out morning and a late arrival of the delivery of buns (i assume from a production kitchen or their restaurant?) I was able to wrangle one. Aroma of smoke in the dough is the first noticeable characteristic. Opening it up I was privy to the deep disappointment of the execution. 7 raisins in the bun, no apparent spice in the dough mixture although the colour of the dough indicated it would be there. No aroma apart from that slight hint of smoke which is ‘great’ sure but truly unimportant. No added flavour in the glaze or technique applied to offer texture in the bake or throughout the experience, in fact the glaze hadn't been reduced enough and sat wet on the top of the bun. It tasted like a gummy, white, highly processed, poorly executed brioche bun. Buy the bread, of the ham and cheese pithier. Don’t think twice about the buns.
Danny’s Bakery $2 / bun
I knew these wouldn’t cut the mustard. I could tell from behind the counter that it would be a sad experience. While on the lower end of artisan spectrum these were entirely lacking in flavour. A hint of sweetness on the nose that carried the simplest hope of spice however nothing translating in the actual eating experience except for a lingering unpleasant bitterness at the back of the palate. Frugal on the fruit. It was like an underwhelming tea cake that was wholly absorbed by any butter added.. That being said, they are open all weekend and you can pre-order your buns. So if in a tight spot, there is an option.
Chouquette $3.50 / bun
I’m tired of the disappointment. I will finish by just saying no. Don’t. Go to Aldi.
Marcel Proust released A la Rechereche du Temps Perdu (In Search of Lost Time) in 1913. It is a novel in seven volumes and is considered to be Proust’s most prominent work. It is an exploration of what it is to grow up and for ones eyes to be opened by art, culture, society and love. It is a work known for it’s length and it's theme surrounding involuntary memory. This constant theme throughout the volumes is most clearly expressed early in Volume 1. Proust writes; ‘She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate, a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory--this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature as theirs.’ To describe an eating experience as Proustian or to say something like ‘ahh like the madeleine’ it is with reference to this passage. It is with the intention of recognising that food as a sensory experience can evoke distinct and unexpected memories.
The thing is it wasn't always a madeleine. Initially in first drafts dating back to 1907 released by Paris publishing house Saint-Peres, in place of the madeleine was toasted bread mixed with honey. In a second draft the bread was replaced with a mouthful of biscotto. It wasn’t until the third draft that the famed madeleine came to be. The madeleine can be anything. The madeleine is any food memory. It was one of French literatures most powerful metaphors executed expertly in the unparalleled film Ratatouille in one of the final scenes when the rat serves the critic Anton Ego his own version of ratatouille, the first mouthful sending Ego crashing back to childhood and into his mothers arms. While the scene (and Proustian reference) in Ratatouille was expertly executed this isn’t the case in most writing. Sadly food writing overuses it as a form with such wilful abandon that it’s meaning has been devalued to such a degree there is now a sense of embarrassment and laziness attached to its use.
I understand the reality that you are only ever allowed to discuss these moments once. I realise, in this fourth edition of the newsletter that some people might consider this too soon. Too eager to digress with this reference and to flex my knowledge of such things, to delve deep into the cliche of sense memory when writing about food. In fact, I recognise that people might consider it a cliche in and of itself, simply the reference to Proust and his madeleine. From where I sit, the sooner this is out of the way the better. If it is justifiable to reference it while writing about hot cross buns, well hot damn, why not just do it. I am writing about this now. After I write about this it will become a reference point for other moments throughout this newsletter where it is important to address Proust. However, this story will not be shared again. It is only short. It is only meaningful to me. Read it now and return to it if you choose if referenced in the future.
Unless of course, in Australia you are talking about natural resources dug out of the ground, our climate and its stability, or sites of Indigenous importance heritage and history. In which case, the Government (and being in a liberal democracy by virtue the people) seem to demonstrate the opposite.
It is coming back by the way. I have it on good word. Ready the legs, ready the purse.
Words by Daniel Wilson
Daniel has a Masters in Food Culture from The University of Gastronomic Science in Pollenzo, Italy. He is a chef and recovering restauranteur