Seem to be similar to a Bath Bun but not as good – as with anything from Bristol of course. Seems to be the candied peel that is the difference.
So, given events around that statue perhaps we can find a baker to make some:
A Colston bun is a sweet bun made of a yeast dough flavoured with dried fruit such as currants, candied peel, streusel and sweet spices. It is made in the city of Bristol, England, and named after Edward Colston, a Bristol-born English merchant, philanthropist, slave trader, and Member of Parliament who created the original recipe. It comes in two size categories: “dinner plate” with eight wedge marks on the surface and “ha’penny staver”, an individual sized bun.
The Colston Bun is traditionally distributed to children on Colston Day (13 November), which celebrates the granting of a Royal Charter to the Society of Merchant Venturers by Charles I in 1639. The custom originated from the Colston’s School, which was established for poor children in the early 18th century. Originally, the child would receive a large “dinner plate” bun with eight wedge marks so that individual portions could be broken off and shared with their family, plus a “staver” which could be eaten immediately to “stave off” hunger, and a gift of 2 shillings (now 10p) from the wives of the Merchant Venturers. The gifts of buns and money are still distributed to some school children in Bristol on Colston Day by the Colston Society.
Colston Buns are not widely known outside Bristol, and are generally only available for sale on occasion in independent bakers around the city. In the 21st century, the name has become controversial as Edward Colston was known to have been a slave trader.
Colston was indeed a slave trader. As with other humans he contained multitudes. He was also a significant philanthropist and generations of Bristolians have gained from his endowments. The bun is, as above, purely about that philanthropy – and I particularly like the thought that went into the delivery of the dinner plate and the staver. Someone had properly observed young folk to think that up.
The point being, not that the mob is likely to hear it, that it is possible to celebrate the good without having to hagio* the entirety. Even, to celebrate that good while condemning that bad.
And if you were to desire to – not that anyone would, oh no – rather stir things up you would start a practice of, on that 13 November, handing them out at the location of where that statue used to be.
*If a hagiography is the written down version of it, then the verb is to hagio, isn’t it?