Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and gently pat it into a circle about 1-inch thick. Using a sharp knife or a bench scraper, cut it into 8 wedges, like you’re cutting a pie. Carefully transfer the wedges to your parchment-lined baking sheet, leaving a couple of inches between them for spreading. I like to give the tops a very light brush with a bit of extra milk and a sprinkle of sugar for a sweet, delicate crust. Then, into a preheated 400°F (200°C) oven they go for 18-22 minutes. Watch for them to turn a beautiful, golden brown.
Pro Tips for Best Results
Keep everything cold. I even pop my measured flour and bowl in the freezer for 15 minutes before I start if my kitchen is warm. The goal is to keep the butter solid until it hits the oven, where it will melt and create steam, giving you that incredible, tender lift. I tested this on a hot summer day versus a cool morning, and the difference in texture was noticeable. The cooler the dough goes in, the better the rise.
Resist the urge to add more flour when the dough feels sticky as you bring it together. It’s supposed to be a bit soft. Adding too much flour is the top reason for dense buns. Instead, use a light dusting on your hands and the surface. Trust the process. The dough firms up a bit as the flour hydrates. I promise, a slightly sticky dough is a sign you’re on the right track to soft, fluffy buns.
Don’t rely solely on the timer. Ovens vary. The buns are done when they are uniformly golden on top and sound slightly hollow when you tap the bottom. I also look for the cracks on the sides to look dry, not doughy. Let them rest on the baking sheet for just 5 minutes before moving them to a cooling rack. This brief rest lets them set so they don’t fall apart when you move them.
Common Mistakes to Avoid
The first time I made these, I used room-temperature butter because I was impatient. Big mistake. The butter simply vanished into the dough, and I ended up with buns that were more like scones—still tasty, but missing that signature flaky, layered texture. Cold butter is a requirement, not a suggestion. Cube it straight from the fridge, and if your hands are warm, use those tools to keep it from melting.
Over-mixing is the silent bun-killer. Once you add the wet ingredients to the dry, you’re not making bread. You’re just encouraging them to become acquaintances, not best friends. Stir and fold just until combined. I’ve tried both a vigorous mix and a gentle fold, and the gentle fold wins every single time. It’s okay if the dough looks a little rough and uneven; that’s character!
Skipping the cooling rack seems minor, but it’s crucial. I left my first perfect-looking batch on the pan to cool completely, and the bottoms turned soft and pale from trapped steam. That delightful, slightly crisp bottom you want is achieved by letting air circulate all around the bun. Transferring them to a wire rack after a brief rest ensures every side is perfect.
Serving Suggestions
My absolute favorite way to enjoy these is still warm from the oven, split open, and slathered with a generous amount of good, salted butter. The butter melts into all the nooks and crannies, and the contrast of the sweet raisin and the salty butter is pure heaven. It’s a simple pleasure that feels incredibly indulgent.
For an afternoon tea or coffee, I love serving these buns alongside a sharp cheddar cheese. The sweet and savory combination is a classic in Newfoundland for a reason. The richness of the cheese cuts the sweetness beautifully. A dollop of homemade strawberry jam or lemon curd is also a fantastic pairing if you’re feeling fancy.(See the next page below to continue…)