Here’s a tip I learned from a failed, flat batch: don’t roll it. Just pat it. You want to keep the dough tender. Using a sharp knife or a bench scraper, cut the circle into 8 wedges, like you’re cutting a pie. Carefully transfer each wedge to your parchment-lined baking sheet, leaving about an inch between them. They don’t spread a ton, but they need a little room to breathe. Bake them in a preheated 400°F (200°C) oven for 20-25 minutes. You’ll know they’re done when the tops are a beautiful golden brown and the bottoms sound hollow when tapped. That heavenly smell will tell you, too.
Pro Tips for Best Results
Keep everything cold. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve tested this with room-temperature butter and cold butter, and the difference in texture is night and day. For the flakiest, most tender buns, I even pop my cubed butter in the freezer for 10 minutes before starting, and I use milk straight from the fridge. The goal is to have the butter melt in the oven, creating steam pockets, not in your hands while you’re mixing.
Resist the urge to add more liquid if the dough seems dry at first. When I first combined the wet and dry, I panicked and added an extra splash of milk, which led to a sticky dough that needed more flour and resulted in tougher buns. The dough is meant to be just barely moistened and handled minimally. As you gently pat it together on the counter, it will miraculously form a cohesive mass. Trust the process.
For a truly spectacular top, give them a quick brush with a little milk or a simple sugar glaze right after they come out of the oven. I’ve tried it both ways—without, they have a lovely, rustic cracked top. With a brush of milk before baking, they get a slightly softer crust. My personal favorite is a drizzle of a simple confectioners’ sugar and milk glaze while they’re still warm. It soaks in just a little and makes them irresistibly pretty.
Common Mistakes to Avoid
The biggest mistake I made the first time was overworking the dough. I treated it like bread dough, kneading it for a good five minutes because it felt right. What I got were dense, hockey-puck-like buns. Remember, this is a “biscuit method” recipe. You are not developing gluten; you are just combining ingredients until they hold together. Handle it with a light, quick touch, and your buns will be tender and flaky.
Another pitfall is using old baking powder. Baking powder loses its potency over time. If yours has been sitting in the back of your cupboard for a year, do yourself a favor and buy a new can. I learned this the hard way when my buns didn’t rise at all—they just sat there, sad and flat. It’s a small ingredient that makes a massive difference in lift and texture.
Don’t underbake them! They might look done on top at 18 minutes, but the bottom might still be doughy. Use that tap test. Lift one up and tap the bottom—it should sound hollow. If it feels soft or makes a dull thud, give them another 2-3 minutes. I’ve been too eager before and ended up with gummy centers. Let them achieve that full, beautiful golden-brown color all over for the best flavor and texture.
Serving Suggestions
I love serving these buns fresh from the oven, still warm, at a weekend brunch. They are sublime simply split open and slathered with good salted butter that melts into all the nooks and crannies. The contrast of the warm, slightly sweet bun with the creamy, savory butter is absolute perfection. I’ve watched the butter pool in the steam from the bun, and it’s a sight that never gets old.
For an afternoon tea or coffee break, I like to serve them with a side of sharp cheddar cheese or a dollop of strawberry jam. The sweet and savory combination with cheese is a classic Newfoundland pairing that just works. With jam, it’s a double hit of fruitiness that feels indulgent. A cup of strong black tea or a dark roast coffee is the ideal companion to cut through the sweetness.(See the next page below to continue…)