The 'dunkiest' biscuit.

Not of world-shattering importance this: I believe the Shortbread to be the dunkiest biscuit.

By dunkiest, not the best dunker. That accolade must surely go to the Digestive, for its optimum interlude of dunk to dissintegration (applause, lights, music). Just enough to provide the best ‘mouthfeel’ - a term from the fizzy beverage industry describing tiny carbon dioxide bubbles delectably exploding in one’s mouth - said without even a wry smirk (missed opportunity). No CO2 in a digestive (I believe), but a similar sensation.

I digressed. Shortbread unquestionably looks to be the best dunker, but no. Unfortunately its huge content of butter (yum), will simply repel your hot beverage or melt if dunked too long, ruining your lovely cuppa with fat, gritty crumbs.

However, I think those thick fat golden sticks or wedges of shortbread are still best for the job of being a satisfying little treat. The moment you dip a biccy in your tea, is a moment you concentrate totally on your own pleasure and no one else’s, and you deserve a damn good biscuit for that. And that is all I am concerned with when I proclaim them the dunkiest of all.

Of course, a good biscuit, regardless of its type will always improve a lackluster beverage. And such is this dreadful cup of AMT latte I optimistically bought on my way through Marylebone station.

I say latte, but I am not convinced. Actually, it tastes like concentrated Mellow Birds, further intensified by being left on a sunny windowsill for a week, then microwaved to bubbling, twice. It is dire.

So I thank the most beneficent god of biscuits for train station shortbread. And that is all for now.