
Photos: Declan Blackall. Design: Ben Siero
Easter 2026
Words by Dan Cunningham, Lucy Bell Bird and Grace Mackenzie · Published on 26 Mar 2026
We’ve already showed you where to find the best hot cross buns of the season, whether you live in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide or Perth.
Now comes the opposite. On a balmy autumn afternoon, three Broadsheet editors sat at a table and methodically subjected themselves to eight of the most criminal hot cross bun flavours currently on supermarket shelves. They did it so you don’t have to. Banoffee. Mint Slice. Doritos. This truly was the good, the bad and the ugly of hot cross buns. Surprisingly, though, not all were guilty as charged.
G: Gently spiced, tasted almost like gingerbread. Is it strange to mimic carrot cake without sultanas and walnuts involved? I love carrot cake, love hot cross buns. This wasn’t either of those things.
D: The ghost of carrot’s flavour haunted this bun. The white chunks inside – chocolate or cream cheese? Vanilla (adjective). But not unpleasant.
L: It did taste like gingerbread! Little to no carrot – just how I like it. Don’t make me eat vegetables when I’m trying to eat cake. An inoffensive bun, really.
G: The caramel splooged out – into it. The flavour is somewhere between cocoa and milk chocolate. Bun tastes like a cake you’d buy at a school fete. Or Nesquik?
D: Generously filled. Deeply burnt brown sugar. Cloying. The cross had all but disintegrated into the dough. No crime committed, but couldn’t eat a whole one.
L: One of the corners is wet. I wanted it to taste like sticky date pudding, but no. The bun would explode if you took a bite. Un-toastable. This one is playing a different game.
G: The most guilty-looking. Apart from anything, it’s red and green – Christmas! I’d love to know the matcha content, but I reckon it ain’t high. The biggest case for matcha going too far. It’s never been too far gone until this bun.
D: Diseased appearance. Notes of boiled turf. No one asked for this. Or did they? I was lucky to grab the last bag at the supermarket.
L: It’s giving Elphaba from Wicked. It looked like it had a culture, like when they invented antibiotics. Such an unsettling combination of colours to put into your mouth. Playdough with red bits mixed in. Tasted like a green frog.
G: Love the look. Smells like The Body Shop. Tastes like everything I wanted in my school lunch box, but mum said no. Dunkaroos. I’m the most delighted by this. I don’t think you can call it Iced Vovo, though.
D: Obsessed with the idea. Inspired. Coconut nose smells about right. The flavour is on point if you get the coconut-crusted top involved.
L: Glinda from Wicked! Looks like a little girl’s birthday party with either visible mould or raspberry chunks. Smells like if you stuck your schnoz in a packet of Iced Vovos. Tasted pink. Needs JoJo Siwa branding.
G: Smelled like Fireball. Or old cinnamon in the back of your pantry. I was anti cream cheese filling, but it reminded me of Baker’s Delight, where I used to work for $7 an hour after school. I actually didn’t mind this at all.
D: Big Fireball energy. High school circa 2005. A saccharine, candy-ish filling I wouldn’t let my dog lick off my finger. Baker’s Delight is far more delightful than this. My most hyped bun, biggest letdown.
L: Wow, it really did smell like Fireball. Poorly filled with all the goop concentrated in a single quadrant. It was the saving grace for me, though. Once you try it without filling, there’s nothing here for you. Baker’s Delight? Everyone disclose your conflicts of interest now.
G: A crime. Go to jail.
D: Dry dough wearing Colgate cologne. Mint sex panther. Reflux for days.
L: Should we stop looking for ways to make mint and chocolate work outside ice-cream and actual Mint Slice? Pure toothpaste.
G: Nail polish remover. A chemical flavour that thankfully goes away. They should’ve kept tinkering in the lab.
D: Denser than a black hole. The least air. Stodgy, doughy, bordering raw. Reeks of Allen’s banana lollies and dried banana chips. I can’t.
L: Here’s how I’d do a banoffee hot cross bun: I’d take a plain bun (no sultanas), then I’d slice it open and do a Biscoff layer and put some sliced banana on top. But I am a girl, not a supermarket. This is giving baby-led weaning.
G: Gentle spice. Proper heat. Toasted with butter and cracked pepper equals zucchini scone from Flour and Stone. I bet Doritos and Coles run this back without the cross by popular demand. Objectively good.
D: An attractive item. Nice, elastic interior. Genuine spice. Tasted bespoke somehow. The most surprising bun of the lot – in the best possible way. What timeline are we on?
L: On first sniff: Aleppo pepper scroll from AP Bakery. The first bun I think I could actually toast and put butter on. Jalapeno was a misfire because green chunks are disconcerting. Would take the bag home.
About the authors
Dan Cunningham is Broadsheet’s features editor (food & drink).
Lucy Bell Bird is Broadsheet’s national assistant editor.
Grace MacKenzie is Broadsheet Sydney’s food and drink editor.
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