Let the myriad buns of England reclaim their former glory

For the past 14 years Greg Hands has been the Conservative MP for Chelsea and Fulham. But as the years have gone by, he has felt the gnawing absence of a traditional local delicacy: the Chelsea bun. The buns hold a cherished place in Mr Hands’s childhood memories. Once a week his mother would bring home Chelsea buns from the local bakery: “So I sort of grew up on [them]”.

Described by Jane Grigson as “the best of all buns, on account of their buttery melting sweetness, and the fun of uncoiling them as you eat them”, they consist of rolled-up strips of bread dough flavoured with lemon, spice, currants (or, in Grigson’s version, raisins, candied peel and dark brown sugar).

Shocked to find that even Gail’s, the upmarket bakery chain, was devoid of his favourite teatime treat – offering instead such modish Continental exotica as pains au raisin and cinnamon buns – Mr Hands surmised that the fickle vagaries of fashion were responsible for the decline of the humble bun.

But in English Food, published 50 years ago, Jane Grigson had a different theory. Mass production, she argued, had stripped buns of their charm: “Modern commerce has taken them over, and, in the interests of cheapness, reduced the delicious ingredients to a minimum… Buns are now a doughy filler for children”.

But there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon, driven (despite Greg Hands’s misgivings) by fashion. For decades, afternoon tea has been the least loved sibling in the family of British repasts – synonymous with tedious childhood visits to whiskery old relations.

But now a renaissance of afternoon tea is in full bloom, thanks to an unexpected alliance between stately tradition and social media. The teatime encounter over marmalade sandwiches of the late Queen and Paddington Bear seems to have inspired a newfound love for the gentle tinkling of teacups, such that Ben Warner, the founder of Benugo, which runs cafés in museums and historic houses, describes afternoon tea as an “event” meal.

It is partly the Instagrammable prettiness of teatime food (finger sandwiches! Multi-coloured macarons! Fancy china!) that has propelled the changing fortunes of afternoon tea. And in hard times, tea and cakes are a more affordable celebration than dinner at a fancy restaurant.

But the newfound fans of teatime may also appreciate the invitation to pause for a while amid the hurly-burly of everyday life. Among the few charms of my first job was the daily appearance of an office tea-trolley. Propelled by a stout person in a pinny, it offered slopped cups of tepid tea and slightly damp custard creams. It wasn’t very appetising, but it at least acknowledged the importance of taking a moment in the working day.

Here, surely, is the moment for Chelsea buns to return to their former glory. And not just the buns of SW3, but a multifarious host of local specialities: Kentish huffkins and Cornish saffron cakes, Yorkshire Fat Rascals, Banbury cakes, the caraway-flavoured Hawkshead wigs (or whigs) loved by Wordsworth, and a Devonshire speciality, Revel buns, rich in clotted cream and saffron, and baked on sycamore leaves.

Away with dreary industrial pâtisserie: let the buns of Britain flourish. No longer a “doughy filler for children”, but artisanal and sturdily elegant, reclaiming their honoured place on our national tea-table.