Mary Hutchison
Black Bun
Foodstuffs which inspire poets should always be treated with caution: haggis, mutton pies, black bun.
“Thou tuck-shop king! Joy of our gourmand youth! What days thou markst, and what blood-curdling nights!”, penned undergraduate Augustus Bejant in a rhyming tribute to Hogmanay cake in the Glasgow University Magazine at the turn of the century.
Hard to imagine one of today’s shauchling students versifying about garlic bread and Sarah Lee double chocolate gateau, today’s traditional Hogmanay feast. Harder still to imagine why young Augustus found a dark, dry fruitcake with its inexplicable pastry casing worthy of his poetic attention.
It’s going to your granny’s when you’d rather be going to the dancing. The name hints at austerity and the first bite is confirmation. That pastry - why? What the hell is wrong with royal icing, almond paste, dirty great pecans glazed with jam?
After the brandy-moist, marzipan-wrapped decadence of Christmas cake, black bun is as appetising as two dry Ryvitas and a nettle tea. It uses many of the same ingredients yet combines them into the most raw-sticking slice that ever needed a slug of whisky to wash it down. Maybe that’s what inspired Augustus. He could not have written that sober.
Anna Burnside
Black Bun
Foodstuffs which inspire poets should always be treated with caution: haggis, mutton pies, black bun.
“Thou tuck-shop king! Joy of our gourmand youth! What days thou markst, and what blood-curdling nights!”, penned undergraduate Augustus Bejant in a rhyming tribute to Hogmanay cake in the Glasgow University Magazine at the turn of the century.
Hard to imagine one of today’s shauchling students versifying about garlic bread and Sarah Lee double chocolate gateau, today’s traditional Hogmanay feast. Harder still to imagine why young Augustus found a dark, dry fruitcake with its inexplicable pastry casing worthy of his poetic attention.
It’s going to your granny’s when you’d rather be going to the dancing. The name hints at austerity and the first bite is confirmation. That pastry - why? What the hell is wrong with royal icing, almond paste, dirty great pecans glazed with jam?
After the brandy-moist, marzipan-wrapped decadence of Christmas cake, black bun is as appetising as two dry Ryvitas and a nettle tea. It uses many of the same ingredients yet combines them into the most raw-sticking slice that ever needed a slug of whisky to wash it down. Maybe that’s what inspired Augustus. He could not have written that sober.
Anna Burnside