Dunking

To dunk or not to dunk is a question that determines your outlook on life. A dunker is a grabber of pleasure, dipping the biscuit into the cup of tea to deliver an instant mouthful of warm mushy delightfulness, recklessly ignoring the fact that the last sip of tea will be a grim retching moment that spoils the whole relaxing tea-slurping process. A non-dunker is someone who is happy to play the long game, knowing that the last mouthful of tea will be as good as the first. The dunker might argue that you could simply leave the biscuit-infested last mouthful undrunk, but who remembers this in the heady moment of drinking? I, a self-confessed dunker, never do and have to accept that my pleasurable moment of dunking must be paid for as the tea-break concludes.

Fellow dunkers will be glad to hear that studies have been done into the world of dunking with issues such as the biscuit best to dunk, dunking technique and dunking etiquette covered. Physicist Len Fisher was the man behind this important scientific study. The first issue of which biscuit is best to be dunked needed a hi-tech Instron stress-tester to calculate the breaking point of each biscuit when plunged into a steaming mug. There is nothing worse than a biscuit breaking off mid-dunk and having to be retrieved by careful, but inevitably scorched, fingers. The winner of the dunkability test was the Chocolate Digestive which managed to withstand an impressive eight seconds submerged without breaking under the pressure, doubling the time that most of the competitors could handle. My personal favourite biscuit is the Chocolate Hobnob, but this can manage less than four seconds and was beaten into sixth by the likes of Rich Tea, the regular Hobnob, the regular Digestive and the Chocolate Bourbon.

Fisher had practical tips to offer on the practicalities of dunking also: "Dunking [Digestive] biscuits calls for a return to the wide-brimmed porcelain cup. The best strategy is a flat-on approach, biscuit-side down to minimise chocolate bleed into your tea or coffee and maintain the chocolate layer as a crack-stopper. For other biscuits I recommend a full, wide-brimmed cup of tea with a biscuit dunked at a shallow angle with the imprinted surface down. The art lies in the journey twixt cup and lip [that is a fine sentence]. The biscuit - held as you would a penny - should be removed in a smooth fluid motion with the dunked half swivelled, so that it is supported by the dry section of the biscuit, to reach your mouth first." I'm not sure about the flat-on approach - that doesn't sound very practical, but nevertheless, this bloke is a legend whose name should be honoured alongside Einstein, Newton and other scientific bigwigs.

His final comments come on the subject of etiquette, warning the dunker that in some circles dunking is seen as somewhat uncouth - wise words from Fisher; he doesn't want his fellow dunker to be looked down upon by the non-dunking snobs of this world. He also reveals that dunking a biscuit releases ten times more of its flavour than if the biscuit is munched dry - that's a stat to throw in the face of the nonnies. I, for one, will use his scientific endeavour to better my life.