In many ways I agree with Dr Gavin Ashenden, the former cleric who has railed against exotically flavoured hot cross buns as “the work of the devil”. I am a huge enthusiast for the original; toasted so that the upper crumbs just begin to hint at carbonisation, slathered with butter and then briefly placed under the grill, to enable the cream and salt to permeate the crevices where the plump raisins lie. Such is my devotion to this treat that I am innately suspicious of any deviation from the traditional formula.
This has been confirmed for me by a series of taste tests. I tasted savoury versions with cheese and Marmite (which came under particular fire from Dr Ashenden). These were fine but infinitely worse than, say, a slice of cheese on toast with marmite. I tried Heston Blumenthal’s mocha buns, too – another disappointment, as if someone had mixed old coffee granules with croissant dough. I have even tried Aldi’s hot cross bun liqueur. It was vile – the lovechild of Jägermeister and sweet, Christmassy sick. If supermarkets can’t even link the flavour of their product to seasonally appropriate vomit then what hope is there for a proper theological discussion?
