Hot cross buns, warm and fresh from my oven, were my Easter imaginings very early on this Good Friday morning. These imaginings ignored my somewhat hopeless record when making breads, rolls or buns that require yeast, kneading and proving. On the very few occasions I have attempted this bread-making caper, I have ended up with a variety of rocks shaped like loaves. Once, when I actually managed to get a dough to rise after placing it in a sunny spot at the top of my front steps, the whole thing managed to roll itself down to the bottom. That certainly knocked ALL the air out of it! But I promptly forgot all this in the midst of my imaginings this morning and this was the result...
A half dozen little hot cross buns.
While one has to ignore the less-than-uniform shape of these little Easter buns and imagine more defined crosses on their tops, made with a paste of flour and water, they are otherwise delicious. They are very light, not the least bit rocky and the little choc-chips inside, which are my substitute for the sultanas and mixed peel that we do not favour, are just sweet enough. With their shiny glaze of a little local honey on top, they are a step in the right direction along my bread-baking road and I couldn't be happier about that given my previous attempts.
Mixing the dough in my favourite big bowl.
A little ball of dough after kneading on my kitchen bench.
Ready to place in warm spot to rise.
Light & fluffy dough after hours in the oven.
There could very well have been a different outcome of hot cross rocks. Today is not ideal for baking bread. It's actually overcast, showery and cold so there was no warm sunshine in which to sit my dough to rise. (Tomorrow, it's meant to be 31C, but I could not wait.) I ditched the first sachet of yeast, declaring it dead, and used one that smelt like beer when I opened the packet. It seemed like a good omen. I followed Jamie Oliver's recipe, for if I was going to bake buns then I decided I'd rely on an expert. All was kneading together nicely until the time came to cover my little ball of spiced dough, all round and smooth and sitting in my favourite bowl (that seemed like a good omen too) and find somewhere warm for it to rise. I covered it and carefully carried it downstairs and under the house to sit it on top of our hot water system and then realised there was no heat coming off that towering tank of water. So, in desperation, I put it in my oven. Thankfully, I only preheated it to 30C because I subsequently read, while fretting that it wouldn't rise, that yeast begins to die at around 45C. I let my dough sit in the warmth of the oven, switched off and door closed, for a lot longer than the hour recommended. I left it for more like three hours and, despite my 'best' efforts, it rose!
Dark chocolate chips instead of dried fruits.
After such a long wait, I very happily kneaded in those chocolate chips, made six little buns and left them to rise once more which, to my amazement, they did! While they were baking, their scrumptious scent wafted through the house. They emerged from the oven golden on top and all soft on the inside. Enjoyably edible and not in the least bit like rocks. Yes!
One sweet little hot cross bun.
Tomorrow, I am going to bake these hot cross buns again for they are now all gone. I'll see if I can shape them a little more uniformly and perhaps I'll pipe those crosses on instead of painting them on with the edge of a spoon. And, with a 31C day forecast, I should have plenty of warm spots for the dough to rise in though I won't be resting it at the top of my front stairs!
Have you been baking for Easter?
Meg
