Hot Cross Bun Day

Today is all about bread.

Cinnamon scented, sultana infused, sweet fluffy bread.

Bread that’s coated in sticky-sweet glaze that sticks to your fingers,and makes crumbs cling to the sides of your mouth.

Growing up, Good Friday was always known as ‘Hot Cross Bun Day'(the religion in our house being food). Mum was the designated bread-baker and so the task usually fell to her. The result: perfection on a plate. I can think of nothing more delicious than a freshly baked, still-warm, hot cross bun smothered in butter and washed down with a pipping-hot cup of tea. This year, however, in the absence of my mum’s delicious hot cross buns (600km away…airmail anyone?) I have decided to attempt to make some myself.

Wish me luck!

Beige-on-beige-on-white. How lovely.

All bubbly and light!

In go the eggs and milk and sugar too.

Oh what a lovely goo!

Oh lumpy goo, what to do with you?

Stay in little sultanas, I shall knead you too!

And beauty is born. What a lovely dough!

All round and plump, and ready to go.

And now you rise, you clever dough.

What a beautiful sight! Let’s go, let’s go!

Small little loaves I shall twist,

then into the oven where you shall be missed!

But here you are, all golden and brown!

Now with some butter and tea I shall munch you down!