29 March Friday

A first request! The question is this: Why are hot cross buns, a sweet treat served on a day and in a season wherein sweet treats are renounced, served? Pictured above is one of the last hot cross buns of the season; friends have begun to pat their tummies and say no thank you. Here is an answer:

Hot Cross Buns were originally baked by a monk somewhere (St. Alban’s) and given to the poor on Good Friday. Then, as now, these buns are somewhat expensive to make, with milk, eggs, butter, spices, and dried fruit. It was an act of charity from those who had much to those who had little. Sweets were not made with sugar back then (1300’s) so many things were sweetened with only raisins and honey. Tooth rotting, Diabetes inducing, hyper-active, manic, sugar foods were not as common back in those primitive days, apparently.

Next, the Lenten fast was traditionally a communal one, and one that involved meat. People gave up meat together, as prescribed by Mother Church. Individually customized fasts were not common or even expected. It turns out, people that already have too much are ok with giving things up for a few weeks. Whereas, if you are involuntarily giving things up all the time as a way of life, doing it intentionally seems unnecessary, even ill-advised. The idea of people giving up alcohol and/or sweets as personal sacrifices for Lent is a very modern one, and non-hot cross bun inclusive.

After the big service, many broke their Good Friday fast with a hot cross bun, and I, having done that today, could not recommend it more. More sweet, more savory, more wholesome than any one before it. By the way, buns were also served to the ill and infirmed as they were believed to have medicinal properties.

Some people believe that if you bake the buns on Good Friday and hang one in the hallway by a thread, nothing bad will ever happen. I haven’t tried it because I think it’s a bunch of bullshit.

Next. Hit’em up a tune they call turkey in the fridge. I am getting excited for the big day, which in this case, is Wednesday. Not enough parties happen on Wednesday in my opinion. Monday and Tuesday, sure, we need to rest and recoup, but by Wednesday one’s weekend has begun. This is going to be a party if it all works out. A real big step up for me, cooking wise speaking.

I’ve been watching tutorials, reading, practicing on imaginary birds. It’s like performing surgery on a patient that has already thankfully died. It is the project. It is the cooking. I will rejoice. I will breathe deeply as my fingers work their way through raw meat, tendons, skin, and bones in this dissection exercise reminiscent of high school biology class. I think that this will all happen on Tuesday, so that the day of can just be the fun part of cooking and setting the table. Yes, I am going to set the table for the first time in 2024. I don’t mean my little kitchen table, I mean the grand dining room table. The one I got for thirty-nine dollars at the thrift store and wheeled down Mission Street on a dollie. As my friend and I were crossing the street, someone yelled my name from a car window. I turned to wave at them, and the table fell off the dollie just as the light was changing. Well, you can imagine what ensued! Horns honking, people screaming colorful phrases and suggestions, we trying to upright the table, it was great. Just another day on Mission Street. So yeah, that table.

It turns out, serving turkey on Easter is not that uncommon. It appears to be a thing in Canada. And yes, there will be cranberry sauce!! And yes, there will be gravy, and instead of mashed potatoes, colcannon. OK, I’m getting ahead of myself, and there appears to be another me ahead of him, so I better slow down a second. More to come.