SUPERHOT CROSS BUNS
Well I hope you all had a lovely Easter, celebrating the day when...er...a chick came back to life as a giant bunny, and left chocolate eggs for all the girls and boys? Or at least I think they were eggs - in hindsight a chocolate egg would probably look a lot like the excrement of a huge magic Watership Down escapee, which puts a whole new fetishist spin on 'egg' hunts.
Anyway, I was on holiday in Cyprus on the not so big day (let's be honest, it's not Christmas is it? It's barely better than Pancake Day, and that's just a load of greasy hot batter). I mention this not to boast of my jet-setting lifestyle, but because on Easter itself we came back to our villa to find a bowl of eggs left by the owner. Real hens eggs, dyed red. We had no idea whether we were supposed to eat these or smash them up in offering to some egg-hating deity or what, or even if they were raw or cooked, so we just left them. Which in hindsight probably wasn't a great idea as we've no clue as to when anyone will next be in the villa. So if it isn't booked for some time, the next visitors may well be arriving to a bowl of what appears to be inflamed amputated dog testicles that also happen to now be rancid. The ideal holiday welcome!
Still, could be worse. We could have left them a plate of these psychotic bastards.
Want to see how flame retardant your soft palate is? Grab yourself some of these then:
500g strong bread flour (seems no stronger to any other flour to me - it couldn't, for example, prop up a wonky table leg)
1/2 a teaspoon of salt
2 teaspoons of hot chilli powder
2 teaspoons of crushed hot chillies
A handful of dried birds-eye chillies
50g caster sugar
50g butter cut into cubes (or your rhomboid of choice)
100g chocolate chips (you could use dried fruit, which is more traditional, but also who wants to eat an old failed grape and bits of peel? May as well eat nice things now while we can, before the imminent nuclear holocaust reduces us to gnawing on tree branches for sustenance)
7g of dried yeast
2 eggs
200ml milk
A large glass of milk separate from the milk you'll use for cooking
Unfragranced baby wipes (no, seriously)
Fairly long this week, as I had to do some ACTUAL cooking rather than just heating something up or shoving meat where it doesn't belong. So to speak.
Anyway, put the flour, salt, chilli powder and sugar in a bowl. Then, dump in the butter and rub it in - and I don't mean insult the butter regarding its predicament, I mean use your hands to mix it thoroughly with the dry stuff. And for the Easter Bunny's sake, don't forget about the chilli powder and remember to wash your hands afterwards - or at the very least don't rub your eyes or groin, or indeed anyone else's eyes or groin, or there will be much inflammation, irritation and cursing.
Pop the chocolate chips and yeast in as well once you've mixed your dry goods. You'll note the flour has already taken on what can only be described as a foreboding slight orange hue.
Then, get your milk and warm it up for about a minute in the microwave. It should be warm but not hot - like a cup of tea you've left slightly too long but end up drinking anyway, even though it makes you feel a bit sick as a result. Crack your 2 eggs into the warmish milk and beat them into it until everything looks like a really shit custard (which, in a sense, it is).
Then, pour that into the dry stuff:
Mix your wet and dry stuff together with some sort of implement. I found a blunt knife worked well here, but you could probably use a spoon or even a small wrench at a push. It should all come together quite nicely though after a few mins and form into a ball. Assuming you ever want to get it off of your worktop again, pop some more flour down and then extrude the ball from the bowl onto the table.
At this point, chop your dough into 4 equal chunks. For the first 2 chunks, split them each into 2, form into bun shapes and pop them on a baking tray - these 4 are your 'level 1' buns and are now done. For level 2, take one of your remaining 2 quarters and squidge it into a bowl shape. Then add 1 teaspoon of your crushed chillies and fold it all in a few times so that the chillies are evenly mixed throughout the dough. Spilt in 2, and these are your level 2 buns. Pop them on the tray as well.
For level 3, you can probably guess what's coming - do the same as above, only add your other teaspoon of crushed chillies and your handful of birds-eye chillies. Mix, split, and may god have mercy on your soul.
Cover the buns loosely with clingfilm and leave for about an hour to prove. You might want to leave too to avoid what's coming soon, but assuming you stick around you'll want to shove your proven buns into a preheated oven at 200 C for about 15 minutes. and then they're done! And shortly, so will you be.
In an entirely particular order, let's start with level 1:
Aside from the somewhat offputting colour, these weren't too bad - just a very slight tingle of heat. They had an unfortunate whiff of curry flavour super noodles (which I put down to the chilli powder, given I don't recall putting in any super noodles), but I'd happily eat these again. And indeed did - I ate one of my spare ones not 5 minutes before posting this blog.
On to level 2:
Initially, this was much the same. But that turned out to be short-lived and the heat built up pretty quickly. It wasn't inedibly hot, but certainly warm enough to move it from 'delicious' towards 'discomfort'.
Right then, level 3. And for this, a special treat - moving pictures! Well, not really a treat unless you like to watch a grown, albeit stupid, man coughing profusely, but anyway - here's me eating the level 3 bun:
In case it wasn't obvious, this was hot. Really hot. REALLY REALLY hot. This is where the milk comes in, as you'll need to cool down your mouth as it's properly intense. It's also where the baby wipes come in, because I had a burning patch on my tongue that wasn't shifting even after half a pint, so I ended up wiping my tongue off with one. I'm not proud of this, but by crikey I am glad I did it. And also that we had non-fragranced wipes. Spicy mouth is bad enough without an aftertaste of talcum powder.
So there you go. Near conclusive proof that these are the ideal Easter treat as they could almost certainly raise the dead. Or, ironically, do the reverse for the already alive. Either way, it's probably what Jesus would have wanted. Well, that and not being nailed to a plank.
Anyway, I was on holiday in Cyprus on the not so big day (let's be honest, it's not Christmas is it? It's barely better than Pancake Day, and that's just a load of greasy hot batter). I mention this not to boast of my jet-setting lifestyle, but because on Easter itself we came back to our villa to find a bowl of eggs left by the owner. Real hens eggs, dyed red. We had no idea whether we were supposed to eat these or smash them up in offering to some egg-hating deity or what, or even if they were raw or cooked, so we just left them. Which in hindsight probably wasn't a great idea as we've no clue as to when anyone will next be in the villa. So if it isn't booked for some time, the next visitors may well be arriving to a bowl of what appears to be inflamed amputated dog testicles that also happen to now be rancid. The ideal holiday welcome!
Still, could be worse. We could have left them a plate of these psychotic bastards.
 |
| From this pic, it almost looks like I know what I'm doing. Though read on to discover this startling fact: I don't. |
Ingredients:
Want to see how flame retardant your soft palate is? Grab yourself some of these then:
1/2 a teaspoon of salt
2 teaspoons of hot chilli powder
2 teaspoons of crushed hot chillies
A handful of dried birds-eye chillies
50g caster sugar
50g butter cut into cubes (or your rhomboid of choice)
100g chocolate chips (you could use dried fruit, which is more traditional, but also who wants to eat an old failed grape and bits of peel? May as well eat nice things now while we can, before the imminent nuclear holocaust reduces us to gnawing on tree branches for sustenance)
7g of dried yeast
2 eggs
200ml milk
A large glass of milk separate from the milk you'll use for cooking
Unfragranced baby wipes (no, seriously)
Method:
Fairly long this week, as I had to do some ACTUAL cooking rather than just heating something up or shoving meat where it doesn't belong. So to speak.
Anyway, put the flour, salt, chilli powder and sugar in a bowl. Then, dump in the butter and rub it in - and I don't mean insult the butter regarding its predicament, I mean use your hands to mix it thoroughly with the dry stuff. And for the Easter Bunny's sake, don't forget about the chilli powder and remember to wash your hands afterwards - or at the very least don't rub your eyes or groin, or indeed anyone else's eyes or groin, or there will be much inflammation, irritation and cursing.
 |
| Here, it looks like the beginning of some sort of artisan artwork project. |
Pop the chocolate chips and yeast in as well once you've mixed your dry goods. You'll note the flour has already taken on what can only be described as a foreboding slight orange hue.
 |
| This could easily* be passed off as a satellite image of an illegal rubbish dump where someone has offloaded loads of barrels of radioactive waste on top of a remote mountain. *That's 'easily' as in 'I couldn't think of anything else to use as a caption'. |
Then, get your milk and warm it up for about a minute in the microwave. It should be warm but not hot - like a cup of tea you've left slightly too long but end up drinking anyway, even though it makes you feel a bit sick as a result. Crack your 2 eggs into the warmish milk and beat them into it until everything looks like a really shit custard (which, in a sense, it is).
Then, pour that into the dry stuff:
 |
| I done a sick. |
Mix your wet and dry stuff together with some sort of implement. I found a blunt knife worked well here, but you could probably use a spoon or even a small wrench at a push. It should all come together quite nicely though after a few mins and form into a ball. Assuming you ever want to get it off of your worktop again, pop some more flour down and then extrude the ball from the bowl onto the table.
 |
| Despite not adding any further spicy goods, it's getting progressively more orange... |
At this point, chop your dough into 4 equal chunks. For the first 2 chunks, split them each into 2, form into bun shapes and pop them on a baking tray - these 4 are your 'level 1' buns and are now done. For level 2, take one of your remaining 2 quarters and squidge it into a bowl shape. Then add 1 teaspoon of your crushed chillies and fold it all in a few times so that the chillies are evenly mixed throughout the dough. Spilt in 2, and these are your level 2 buns. Pop them on the tray as well.
 |
| Here, I'm showcasing my excellent photography skills by leaving the lid of the chilli packet in shot. Nice. |
For level 3, you can probably guess what's coming - do the same as above, only add your other teaspoon of crushed chillies and your handful of birds-eye chillies. Mix, split, and may god have mercy on your soul.
 |
| Bugger. This is going to hurt, isn't it? Still, at least I got all the wrappers out of the way this time. Instagram pro! |
Cover the buns loosely with clingfilm and leave for about an hour to prove. You might want to leave too to avoid what's coming soon, but assuming you stick around you'll want to shove your proven buns into a preheated oven at 200 C for about 15 minutes. and then they're done! And shortly, so will you be.
 |
| You'll note I added extra chillies to mark which ones were the level 3 ones. Looking back, I should probably have used something more appropriate, such as a radiation trefoil or a 'Keep Out' sign. |
The results:
In an entirely particular order, let's start with level 1:
 |
| Could be worse. It could have dried fruit in it. |
Aside from the somewhat offputting colour, these weren't too bad - just a very slight tingle of heat. They had an unfortunate whiff of curry flavour super noodles (which I put down to the chilli powder, given I don't recall putting in any super noodles), but I'd happily eat these again. And indeed did - I ate one of my spare ones not 5 minutes before posting this blog.
On to level 2:
 |
| Looks similar to the last one, but those little red flecks make this a whole new ballgame. One where the ball is on fire and also there are 10 balls at once and they are all on fire as well. |
Initially, this was much the same. But that turned out to be short-lived and the heat built up pretty quickly. It wasn't inedibly hot, but certainly warm enough to move it from 'delicious' towards 'discomfort'.
Right then, level 3. And for this, a special treat - moving pictures! Well, not really a treat unless you like to watch a grown, albeit stupid, man coughing profusely, but anyway - here's me eating the level 3 bun:
In case it wasn't obvious, this was hot. Really hot. REALLY REALLY hot. This is where the milk comes in, as you'll need to cool down your mouth as it's properly intense. It's also where the baby wipes come in, because I had a burning patch on my tongue that wasn't shifting even after half a pint, so I ended up wiping my tongue off with one. I'm not proud of this, but by crikey I am glad I did it. And also that we had non-fragranced wipes. Spicy mouth is bad enough without an aftertaste of talcum powder.
So there you go. Near conclusive proof that these are the ideal Easter treat as they could almost certainly raise the dead. Or, ironically, do the reverse for the already alive. Either way, it's probably what Jesus would have wanted. Well, that and not being nailed to a plank.
Comments
Post a Comment