I don’t generally blog about me and my life (aside from books, obviously) because of several reasons. Mostly, a) I’m not exciting, b) I really hate having my picture taken like I loathe it with the fire of a thousand suns, and c) did I mention how much I hate photos?
BUT. It’s Easter. I was photographing Skulduggery Pleasant 6: Death Bringer (as you do) and noticed the delicious photos of hot cross buns on the camera and I thought, “Now, Cait. You have new followers. No doubt they’d like to see your [fabulous] face. No doubt it’d be fun to show them the delicious food you cooked and then laugh because they cannot eat any.”
And I’m also tolerably proud of cooking hot cross buns with a 2 and 4 year old and avoiding several calamities (of which include having a tablespoon of salt nearly dumped into the mixture).
So let me tell you about the time I Made Hot Cross Buns With Preschoolers Which Could Have Ended In Calamity But Instead Was Delicious.
And my family can refrain from smirking that I used the very photos I glared at them for taking. I maintain my glare! But, eh, blog before privacy, I suppose.
It started off like any other time I bake in my house. My mum spied me and said, “HERE. YOU. COOK THIS.” To which, I agreed because I have a gargantuan weakness for sultanas (raisins). But please! Understand this! Cooking is not an easy feat for me. I’ve been notoriously bad at it all my life due to always misreading recipes. (I swear they write them weirdly on purpose.) I’ve destroyed a lot of things. Don’t ask me about the orange cake. It wasn’t my fault.
But, apparently, the “you” in Mum’s sentence was misconstrued and floated across the kitchen to the ears of two small (half-naked as usual) children who though she meant THEM.
But try telling them that, when their sticky paws were already dragging chairs into the kitchen.
Now, it’s very important to understand that my nephew and niece know EVERYTHING. I know nothing next to these know-it-alls, duh. They know how to cook and they know how to use a Thermomix (which is a fabulous creation of humankind that weighs/cooks/mixes all in one device and, in fact, is the only reason I ever attempt to cook). Do they need me? Pfft. Of course not.
Since I was impersonating an octopus by trying not to let Eva (2yrs) dump the entire container of salt in the bowl, while simultaneously moderating how many teaspons of cinnamon Xave (4yrs) was using…I climbed on the chair too.
I do like to look down on people anyway.
My mum and oldest sister (owner of these small hooligans) thought this was hilarious. IT WAS NOT HILARIOUS. IT WAS SURVIVAL.
And also, the height helped me be able to dip into the sultanas whilst directing these minions in cooking.
I did rather well at directing. I’ve missed my calling. I should be a Destruction Coordinator.
The Thermomix is reportedly very loud when grinding cashews.
It was basically cinnamon-flavoured chaos.
Sultanas everywhere. Atticus (my 6month puppy) was eating currents off the floor. We had a ground cloves sea under the teaspoon measurements. Eva ate, like, a million cashews. Three of us shuffled around on that one chair to the tune of, “EB, scootch your butt!” and “Brother’s turn!”
I have no idea why, but they refer to each other as “brother” and “sister” a lot, so I do too, because LET’S FACE IT: names are confusing. I would happily refer to people as “human 1” and “human 2”. This is Reason #53903 why I will make a great world ruler.
And, perhaps, I forgot what the word was for beaten egg whites (it’s…surprisingly…beaten egg whites) and called them “gooble”, which is now what Xave thinks they’re called.
“Add in da gooble!” he shouted and nearly wiped me out with a spatula.
There was a lot of licking and double-dipping involved. I, in no way, vouch for the cleanliness of these hot cross buns.
I also suspect, with less tasting from Minion 1 and Minion 2, there would’ve been more buns made. And there’s also that one bun Eva dropped on the floor. It was a mad dive between me and the dog to see who got there first. I won, but barely.
The Minions’ handler did the crosses, with much difficulty, due to her enormous size. (What?! I’m her little sister! I’m allowed to make mean jokes while she’s great with child.) Yes, there is a 3rd minion due any day now. I’m not sure how 4 of us will fit standing on a chair.
I suspect I’ll have to choose favourites between my niece and nephew and Unnamed Gendered Relative. No doubt I’ll pick whichever one is less sticky.
Despite the near miss with an enormous amount of cloves (cloves are powerful, people! It could’ve been a disaster!), the mixture tasted utterly divine. And when cooked? They were delicious. Very fruity and spicy and moist.
They’re made on cashews and sweetened with coconut syrup because our family is odd like that. I’m joking, Mum! Don’t sigh. I know it’s for health reasons.
If you’re unfamiliar with hot cross buns (even after this), let me TELL YOU ALL.
Obviously they’re small sweet buns with copious amounts of raisins/sultanas/currents. They’re traditionally eaten on Good Friday in the UK and Australia (apparently also in Canada and India!) so my wonderful American friends are probably missing out.
There are lots of superstitions surrounding hot cross buns (one being they’ll never grow mouldy but I think that’s because they never LAST to go mouldy), including the practise that if you share one, it’s a bond of friendship:
“Half for you and half for me, Between us two shall goodwill be.”
Clearly I’ll never have friends.
have you even eaten a hot cross bun?! better yet: have you ever cooked with preschoolers?! (it’s an…adventure.) SO TELL ME! what do you traditionally do around Easter?! do you have holidays? family gatherings? delicious food? i’m really curious!
Cait @ Paper Fury
…is currently mourning the fact hot cross buns in her house will, indeed, never go mouldy because…they were gone in one sitting. So sad. Between moaning about this, she’s finishing reviewing Skulduggery 6 and about to start on Eon which, she hopes, contains lots epic dragonish action.