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Despite the furore over how to enjoy a cream tea correctly, the UK faces a bigger baking threat: a rise in flavoured hot cross buns

Not so plain and simple: Enough to start a bun fight over? - Moment RF
Not so plain and simple: Enough to start a bun fight over? - Moment RF

If you were an alien newly landed in Britain or, for that matter, a Russian spy trying to blend in over here, what should you do? Learn the national anthem, sure. Take a position on dogs. Understand who Mary Berry is. Terrific work, Vladimir. But you also need to develop strong feelings about baked goods. Scones, specifically.

Because there’s been a wonderful row in the West Country recently about scones and the right way to eat them. It’s all the National Trust’s fault. Typical! In an advert for a Mothering Sunday tea at a Cornish joint called Lanhydrock House, they used a photo of scones layered with cream and then… jam splodged on top of that cream. This has caused near revolt.

That’s how they do scones in Devon, see, whereas in Cornwall the jam goes on first, then the cream. Within moments, the advert was branded as “shocking” and “unacceptable”. “There are some things you don’t do, National Trust, and putting a picture of a DEVON cream tea for a CORNISH cream tea event is disgusting,” commented an especially dismayed critic on Facebook.

Scones
Cream then jam, or jam then cream?

“Think my mum would disown me if I gave her this cream tea,” wrote another, which rather makes me wonder whether this family has bigger problems to worry about. But anyway, scones. A massive deal.

Except then I went to a Tesco in West Sussex last weekend and realised we have a far more pressing baking issue on our hands, and that’s hot cross buns. There I was, loitering in the bread aisle, when I realised there were no plain hot cross buns on sale. Not one.

There were salted caramel hot cross buns, apple and cinnamon hot cross buns, mango, papaya and pineapple hot cross buns (what?), but no plain ones. No proper, unadulterated, traditional hot cross buns. Why must we tart everything up these days and give things weird flavours? I’ve done a bit of research since and discovered the situation is similarly appalling elsewhere.

All-butter fudge hot cross buns in Asda, blueberry hot cross buns in Marks and Spencer, “berry cherry” hot cross buns (eh?) in Waitrose. And they’ve completely lost control of themselves in Lidl, where they’re punting hot cross bun ice cream.

hot cross buns - Credit: Mikael Buck / Morrisons
Sultanas, some mixed peel, a pinch of cinnamon and a cross on top to signify the crucifixion. Those are the proper elements of a hot cross bun Credit: Mikael Buck / Morrisons

Well I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is what Brother Thomas Rocliffe envisaged in St Albans in 1361 when he came up with the idea of distributing a bun to the local poor as a Good Friday treat. The monk was absolutely not thinking of sticky toffee hot cross buns at the time.

Sultanas, some mixed peel, a pinch of cinnamon and a cross on top to signify the crucifixion. Those are the proper elements of a hot cross bun, dropped in the toaster and then smothered with butter. Hopefully Brother Thomas wouldn’t have minded about drowning the bun with Lurpak Spreadable. I believe that’s still more acceptable than eating a chocolate chip version.

Perhaps in Cornwall you have to eat hot cross buns with cream and jam. Jam on first though, remember. We don’t want to cause a scene.

The bizarre etiquette of zebra-crossings

It was on that same trip to Tesco that I realised my sister suffered the same zebra-crossing problem as me. Lumbered with plastic bags, we dallied as we approached the crossing in the supermarket car park.

zebra crossing - Credit: Popperfoto
Credit: Popperfoto

Several cars had waited patiently for a mother and her small son, just ahead of us, to cross it and I always feel in these situations that you should dawdle and let those cars go before plunging across yourself. “Me too,” said my sister when I explained. “If there are loads of cars waiting, I stop and pretend to be on my phone so they can move on.”

Why do we worry about holding cars up when it’s a crossing designed for pedestrians? Is anyone else impaired by this affliction? In our anxious age, when people confess to feeling sad about everything from childhood to coffee, there’s probably a therapy group for it somewhere.

Time to get tough with no-show diners?

Should people be fined if they don’t turn up to restaurant tables they’ve booked? Jay Rayner, a food critic, has provoked the question after a London chef tweeted that 46 people failed to show for their tables last Sunday, despite having confirmed their various reservations over the telephone.

Jackson Boxer - Credit: Matt Writtle
Jackson Boxer Credit: Matt Writtle

“Pretty f------ disgraceful,” tweeted Jackson Boxer, the chef in question and grandson of Arabella Boxer, the food writer. He’d laid on extra staff to cater for the additional demand and turned other people away. What a waste. Hefty fines for each of the 46, I reckon.

I know it feels officious when a restaurant asks for your card details to secure a table, but I’d rather give them to a venue that takes bookings than try to get into one that doesn’t take reservations at all.