From Paris with love

Did you know that ‘Paris bun’ is rhyming slang for ‘nun’. I didn’t know that either but then again, it might be an ecumenical matter and therefore, above my pay grade.

I discovered that fun fact last week after a solitary Paris bun was left in a box beside my desk at work. Technically, it didn’t belong to me since I had neither bought it nor left it there in the first place but at the same time, I knew that I didn’t harbour enough self-mastery that I’d be to look at it all day long without cracking.

“Can I have one of your Paris buns?” I texted the real owner of the sweet treat before going to make myself a cup of tea.

“Be my guest,” came the reply, just as I had returned to the desk.

“That was deadly,” I replied in turn, after the Paris bun had been savoured and washed down by the tea. And deadly, it really was.

Fully appreciative of the gift of the bun, if I had any criticism, it was that the bun itself was a little on the dry side – which is probably why there still exists a certain demographic of discerning Parisian bun connoisseurs who apply generous quantities of butter onto the underside of these buns prior to consumption. This is a tact I will surely attempt in the coming days, if not before this week’s Taste Scene even runs.

The reason I had discovered the fun fact about the nun rhyming slang was because, after the gratis Paris bun went down so deliciously, I wondered whether I might endeavour to make some at home. At a time when baked goods are becoming ever more hifalutin with their pastry bases, swirls and iced layers, I loved the uncomplicatedness of the slightly sweet bake and its mild but beautiful relationship with a simple cup of tea.

Existing somewhere between a scone and a cake, a Paris bun is certified Hiberno-Caledonian insofar as, you won’t see them anywhere else – and certainly not in Paris.

I am drawing a blank too as to why exactly Paris buns are called Paris buns. Even following a protracted search online, I am unfortunately none the wiser. The best (and only) explanation I could find was that one baker suggested that Paris buns, with their pearls of sugar, somehow resemble the Eiffel Tower. Personally, I’m not sure about that suggestion, although I did squint at one of the buns for a right while.

I have discovered though, that Paris buns are regarded as more Scottish than Irish and perhaps this has something to do with Scottish cuisine having more links to France than Ireland to France. Or maybe – and I know I’m reaching here – maybe the name Paris bun is somehow linked to Scotland’s alliance with France against what is still termed (in sporting arenas at least), the auld enemy (England). Maybe they used to be baked hard so that William Wallace and his homies could fire them at the Sassenachs. I don’t know.

ANOTHER FUN FACT

In a speech which he delivered in Edinburgh in June 1942, Charles de Gaulle described the alliance between Scotland and France as “the oldest alliance in the world.”

Anyway, whatever about their provenance, Paris buns are officially great gear, especially home-made ones and especially when they’re washed down with tea. No tea, no Paris bun – that’s the rule in my house.

“But I don’t drink tea.”

“I’ll not hear another bad word about the tay. Out ye get.”

INGREDIENTS

120g of butter, softened

130g of sugar

1 heaped tbsp of Ovaltine

2 eggs

140ml of buttermilk

half tsp of baking soda

250g of self-raising flour

1 tsp of baking powder

Pearl sugar to top or if you can’t get any (I couldn’t), granulated will do

THE PLAN

Dump the butter and sugar into a large bowl and beat until light and fluffy.

Add in the Ovaltine and baking soda and mix through.

Add in the buttermilk and eggs and beat until a well combined.

Add in the flour and baking powder and mix through until a soft dough is formed, one that pulls away from the sides of the bowl. It’s important not to over mix things.

Line a baking tray with baking paper and using a tablespoon, scoop mounds of the dough into the tray. Remember that they will spread while baking so make sure to space them out accordingly.

Sprinkle on the sugar pearls (or granulated) and bake in a hot oven (220C) for 10 minutes or until risen and golden.

Let them cool on a wire rack before putting the kettle on and getting out the butter.

Expletives optional but recommended.