Monday
It’s very hard to find proper hot cross buns in New York without stumbling on a range of impostors. There are bread rolls with raisins. There are croissants in disguise. There are a range of what can only be classified as muffins. This year, after the closure of my one reliable go-to at Easter – a local Aussie bakery – I fall back on the French. A few days before Easter, the seasonal offerings at the French bakery loom large in the window and I let myself dream things will turn out all right.
