Originally published by The Clifton Courier, January 27, 2021

Hot cross buns are back on the shelves. 

There’s no point fighting it, those spiced buns aren’t going away until any time soon. Trying to stop their pre-Lent emergence in supermarkets is like trying to stop waves from crashing on the sand. Resistance is futile. 

As a hot cross bun lover, I’m all for the over-commercialisation of this religious baked item. Capitalism has its flaws and there’s varying schools of thoughts on the benefits of the economic and political ideology, but I think we can all agree one of its major perks is the increased availability of spiced buns.   

And, just as there are robust debates about the merits of capitalism, so too are there debates about the best way to heat and eat a hot cross bun. 

I mean, there’s no law against just eating it unadorned and uncut at room temperature, but that seems like a wasted opportunity. And I think we’re all on the same page there. Think about it, have you ever seen someone just biting straight into a hot cross bun like they would an apple?

It would not be an unpleasant experience, but that’s just the base level – you can take a hot cross bun so much higher. The magic of a bun is in the temperature and the addition of butter.

This is where people vary. 

You’ve got the microwavers. You’ve got the grillers. You’ve got the oven bakers. And you’ve got the sandwich pressers. 

I must say that I dabble in all four options, depending on my mood. But when I’m warming a bun in the office, I go for the double-pronged approach: warming the halved bun first in the microwave and then giving it a lovely crust by putting it face down on the open sandwich press. 

I have seen people squishing buns by clamping the heavy sandwich press lid down and while I try not to judge anyone, seeing someone desecrate a bun in this way really tests my resolve.

But over the weekend I learned of a revolutionary new way of heating a bun to perfection. It came to me via a friend via her family friend via Facebook. It involves a toaster. 

Now, we all know that a halved bun is far too wide for a standard toaster slot. Jamming one in there not only smooshes the bun, but leaves you open to extreme charring – and while charring is great for the flesh of a cow, it’s not so delicious when applied to the flesh of a bun. 

But this friend of a friend suggested slicing the bun into thirds horizontally, thus creating slices narrow enough to fit in the toaster slot. It’s a revolutionary thought. 

So I gave it a crack and, as you can imagine, I had some thoughts. 

First, if you’re going to attempt something like this, you have to employ more knife skills than your standard bun halving. I sometimes forgo a knife and just rip my bun in two – it gives more surface area for crisping up, making it a good option if you’re going to whack it under the grill. Plus, there’s something nice about tearing at it with your own two hands; it’s violent but wholesome. 

But you can’t employ such methods here. You need to be precise. I would recommend keeping the bun in the fridge to firm up the bun flesh to make it easier to slice with a serrated knife. 

Also, you need to really watch your timing on the toaster, the bun is awful close to the heating elements. I recommend keeping it on the lowest setting unless you want to eat charcoal*.

* I mean you COULD just scrape the charcoal off with a knife, but once something is burned, there’s no unburning it. The flavour of ill-judged timing and kitchen negligence can never be scraped away. You’re then faced with two choices: throwing it away and living with the shame of wasting something so precious; or eat it anyway, knowing those extra calories you’re jamming into your post-Christmas body are not worth it. Save yourself the grief – watch the fucking toaster.

And, look, each slice of hot cross bun was crunchy and warm. It was an efficient way of heating. 

But felt the essence of the bun had gone. The slices were thin enough to be bread. What I had on my plate was no longer bun, it was It raisin toast. 

The magic was gone. 

And while I don’t want besmirch raisin toast, it just wasn’t as a special as a hot cross bun should be. I mean, I think the real joy of the bun is in the fluffy flesh inside. It’s decadent. It’s not something you have every day. It’s special. 

But this felt wrong. 

What this left me in a philosophical dilemma. Is a hot cross bun still a hot cross bun if it’s sliced differently? What’s the point of eating a hot cross bun if you’re going to warp it into something that tastes like common raisin toast? What’s the point of anything?

So, I would only recommend this hot cross bun heating method if you find yourself without access to a microwave, grill, oven or sandwich press and you have enough time for a spiral about the meaning of hot cross buns and, indeed, life.