The traditional hot cross bun in all its soft, sweet, spiced and fruit-studded perfection is baked into our culinary history, as Sharon Parsons discovers
Picture the scene. It is the dead of night, and throughout the land, towns and villages are in darkness. Here and there, however, a chink of light shines from a covered window while inside there is the muffled sound of domestic activity; shadowy figures move swiftly to and from a hot bread oven set within the inglenook fireplace, and the unmistakable smell of baking begins to waft beyond the threshold… A visitor taps lightly on the door, and as it creaks slowly ajar, he whispers urgently, ‘I’ve come for my buns!’ The piping hot goods, swaddled in a cloth, are hurriedly handed over, and he scurries away into the night…
BUN FIGHT
Hard as it is to believe, these contraband bakes, surreptitiously prepared in many a 16th-century kitchen, were none other than our much-loved hot cross buns. In 1592, Elizabeth I and her Parliament decreed that they could only be made and sold by commercial bakers at Christmas, on Good Friday, and, cheeringly, at funerals. Anyone caught making them at other times would have them immediately confis distributed to the needy. This edict did not, however, stop defiant bakers secretly making them in their own kitchens, and eventually the futile ruling was lifted.
But what was the motive behind it? ‘There are all sort of myths and stories which have developed over time to explain the ban,’ states food historian Ivan Day (foodsofengland.co.uk). ‘A common belief is that the buns were thought too “pope-ish” because of the distinctive cross on top, and it was an attempt to soothe relations between Catholics and Protestants. Another is that they were believed to have supernatural powers at odds with the church’s teachings.
‘However, a much more likely explanation is that this decree was to keep control over the bakers, who were obliged to adhere to strict regulations,’ Ivan explains.
‘Commodities such as wheat were subject to fluctuating prices, while dried fruit and spices were seen as an exotic extravagance. It’s quite possible that spiced buns – along with cakes and biscuits – were thought too much of a luxury to make alongside the daily bread, except on very special occasions.’
RECIPE FOR SUCCESS
Of course, the bun – along with its cross – did not originate during these tricky Tudor times: its legacy dates back thousands of years. Our pagan ancestors celebrated the end of winter with a festival, offering little loaves to Eostre, the goddess of dawn and spring. These were finished with a cross on top, and each quarter signified the four stages of the moon (although practical bakers would argue that cutting a cross simply h
