The not-so-Christian roots of hot cross buns — with a recipe

My homemade batch of hot cross buns (with too-runny icing — see recipe below) © 2012 Phil Fox Rose

Hot cross buns!
Hot cross buns!
One ha’ penny, two ha’ penny,
Hot cross buns!
If you have no daughters,
Give them to your sons
One ha’ penny,
Two ha’ penny,
Hot Cross Buns!

If you read this blog regularly, you know I love food traditions. They’re strewn throughout my year. (See the posts on my Shrove Tuesday pancake alternative, and Hanukkah latkes.) With Holy Week comes another for me: hot cross buns. It doesn’t date back to childhood. The Easter celebration in my atheist home consisted of dying eggs when I was very young, and nothing at all later on. But somewhere along the way, I connected through my heritage with this distinctly British Christian food tradition.

The link between faith and food runs very deep in Judeo-Christianity, of course. As Emily Scott pointed out recently, in Luke it seems like Jesus is always either sitting down for a meal or getting up from one. And of course the Eucharist is a sharing of bread and wine. Beyond the act of sharing, food traditions establish sense memories, which are the strongest kind. Marking annual events with specific foods is powerfully grounding. If it’s Thanksgiving, I’m having turkey (and stuffing, and yams, and cranberry sauce…); Christmas means ham; the Superbowl is nachos; if it’s my birthday, I’m having lasagna. And every Easter, I know I’ll be having two things: hot cross buns and deviled eggs. (I don’t even want to start unpacking the religious significance of celebrating with deviled eggs.)

Besides loving to share a sacred meal every week at St. Lydia’s, I love cooking it, which I get to do once a month or so. Though it’s stressful to prepare a meal for 50 people, it’s deeply satisfying to provide for others. Easier and more fun is making one traditional holiday food. Hot cross buns are perfect for this.

For years, I’ve been bringing hot cross buns to an Easter brunch gathering of family and friends. (Good Friday is the traditional day, but Sunday is when we gather.) I had never tried to make them, though, because as much as I love to cook, I’m not a baker. Baking and cooking, at least the way I cook, are different. Baking is chemistry. All the work is up front; there’s no tasting and adjusting when it’s in the oven. In most cases, you measure and mix everything precisely. Plenty of people cook like that too, but I like to approximate and taste and adjust. I just never got a feel for baking.

But last year, in part because I had this direct connection through St. Lydia’s between my spiritual practice and making food for others, I decided to take a stab at making hot cross buns from scratch. I could bring some to St. Lydia’s Easter Vigil feast, and then bring more to the family brunch on Easter Sunday. The hot cross bun is not complicated to make. It’s a simple spiced bread. Its distinguishing features are:

  • currants — an ingredient unknown to Americans except in its fellow British baked good, the scone;
  • often candied fruit — the same atrocity that makes fruitcakes wildly unpopular (I make mine without, if you hadn’t guessed);
  • a lack of sweetness — there’s some but not much; the spice flavors are dominant;
  • and of course most obviously, the big honkin’ cross on the top of it, usually made of white icing.

Hot cross buns are convenient to bring to a pot luck, family gathering or church event. They can be made a bit in advance (but not more than a day or they’ll start to get stale; and they travel well (as long as you protect the icing). I’ll be making a big batch again this year on Saturday — to bring to the Vigil feast and Easter brunch. If you’ve never made them, my recipe here is a straightforward one to get started with.

An offering to Eostre

A lot of history and mystery surrounds the hot cross bun. One thing we know for sure is that it began in England. When and why, though, is its first mystery. The hot cross bun probably began as a tribute to Eostre, the Saxon goddess of light, after whom — as you might guess — the Christian holiday is named. April was named after Eostre in Saxon, because it marked the return of the dominance of light following the vernal equinox (which I wrote about here.) Eostre is probably derived from the German goddess of the dawn, Hausos, who was also tied to fertility and linked to rabbits and eggs. (By the way, to any scholars out there, I know the specifics of Eostre’s roots are disputed, and mostly based only on the unreliable history written by St. Bede, but the link between Easter, Eostre, Hausos, Spring and new life, bunnies and eggs, seems pretty solid.)

Note that English-speaking countries call this holiday Easter and modern Germans retain Ostern, but all the Romance languages use a variation on Pascha, a Latinization of the Hebrew Pesach. So while most of the Christian world rightly calls this holiday (with its Paschal lamb) Passover, after its Jewish roots, those of us in Germanic countries use the name of the German goddess of light. (A few others use derivations of the Greek anastasia, which means resurrection.)

Even the cross on the bun wasn’t originally a reference to the Christian story, but an ancient Celtic symbol — the Celtic cross with equal length bars represents the intersection of earth (the horizontal line) and Heaven (the vertical line), the human and divine. This meaning has blended with its Christian meaning over the centuries in Celtic Christianity, and enriches its traditional Christian symbolism, in my view.

Despite its pagan roots, the hot cross bun became so entrenched as a symbol of English Catholicness that when the Protestants took power they actually banned the bun. It’s probably propaganda from anti-Catholics, but in the early days, it’s possible there was communion wafer flour incorporated into the dough. As with most government attempts to forbid something people want, however, it didn’t last long. A compromise was struck by Queen Elizabeth I, allowing them to be sold, but only during Christmas and Easter.

The fact that the buns are just sweet enough to balance the flavors without tasting sugary makes them seem an appropriate dessert for Lent. And since they’re from England, they have currents, which are less sweet and juicy than raisins and so also seem less decadent. In Australia they sometimes substitute chocolate chips for the currants, so last year I made some that way, but that seriously undermines the not-too-decadent argument. Then again, they were very popular…

They say if you share a hot cross bun, saying, “Half for you and half for me, between us two shall good will be,” it will guarantee the friendship for the coming year. I suspect that’s a self-fulfilling prophesy, but why not play it safe. Share hot cross buns with your friends this Holy Week, and then cherish those friendships and treat them as holy for the coming year! Even if you can’t bake your own, you can buy some. Just avoid the ones with candied fruit, unless you like that sort of thing.

You can see all my Lent-themed pieces together at Please share that link, or one to my blog, with anyone you think might be interested. Thanks!

About Phil Fox Rose

Phil Fox Rose is a writer, editor and content lead based in New York. He is coordinator of Contemplative Outreach of New York, helping promote centering prayer, which has been his contemplative practice for nearly 20 years. Raised atheist by ex-Mormons, Phil has journeyed through Quakerism, deep ecology, Buddhism and Catholicism. Now he's a congregant, worship leader, cook and chair of the leadership team at St. Lydia's, an awesome dinner church in Brooklyn, NY, and spends as much time in nature as possible. Phil has been a political party leader, videographer, tech journalist, punk roadie, software designer, sheepherder, stockbroker and downtempo radio DJ. A common thread is the process of learning about stuff, figuring it out and then sharing that understanding with others. Follow Phil by RSS feed, email, Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.

  • Ginny

    I loved hearing the history of hot cross buns — thanks for this. I have to admit, I’m hankering for one now.

    To be honest, I kind of like the ones where the cross is made with that lemon jelly icing stuff …it’s sort of disgusting, but it appeals to my inner child.

    • Phil Fox Rose

      Glad you enjoyed it Ginny! Now you’ve got me thinking about trying lemon icing this year…

  • Heather

    Thanks for the recipe. I too discovered hot cross buns in my adult life on a trip to London before Easter. They were delicious with the currants and spice. Finding them here in the US, I’ve noticed that most are driping with icing something unheard of in the UK. Finally found non-iced buns at Whole Foods. But yours look scrumptious.

    • Phil Fox Rose

      Yes, Heather, as you said, they’re not supposed to be very sweet! It’s all about the currants and spice. They’re subtle. But American commercial bakers make everything sweeter because they sell more that way.

  • Bill

    The pagan roots of some of our Christian holidays are fascinating. Thanks for the info about Oestre/Easter. There’s still time to unpack the Easter Egg story between now and Sunday. :)

  • Burke

    You would enjoy my friend and former coworker Dominic’s food blog, It’s all about liturgical eating (with recipes!).

    • Phil Fox Rose

      This blog looks like fun. I will def be exploring it!

  • Sarah

    I can’t wait to try your recipe! Have been looking for one that works. Although I have never been, I am a big fan of St. Lydia’s. Emily came to our Vermont Episcopal convention and she was awesome!

    • Phil Fox Rose

      Hope you enjoy the recipe, Sarah. Make sure to give me a heads-up if you’re ever in NY and plan to come to St. Lydia’s!

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