Let’s break down this edible skyscraper. The bottom tier is savory, and this is not the time for dieting. You get a classic finger sandwich, but an M&S sandwich is a PhD in sandwiching. They use bread so soft it could be a duvet, filled with the only butter that actually tastes like butter.
There’s the obligatory coronation chicken, a delicate blend of curry and regret-you-only-order-one-sandwich-of-it. And the smoked salmon and cream cheese is so elegant it should have its own monocle. You’ll find yourself wondering if the cucumber has been personally massaged before being sliced.
Then, the middle tier. This is the scone zone. And here’s a surprising fact: M&S sells over a million scones a year from these cafes alone. That’s enough scones to pave a road from Manchester to, well, another very British place. They’re warm, slightly crumbly, and demand you smother them in clotted cream and jam.
The Great Scone Debate (Settle Down)
Now, the nation will argue if it’s jam-first or cream-first. I don’t care. M&S gives you a pot of both, which is like being handed the keys to the castle. One bite, and your blood pressure says a little prayer, but your soul is absolutely glowing.
Tea Cakes Marks And Spencer at Esther Parr blog
The top tier is the sweet throne. You’ll find a tiny fruit tart that looks like it was painted by a professional miniature artist. A macaron that’s so perfectly round it’s suspect. And usually, a slice of their legendary Bakewell tart or a chocolate éclair that leaks custard like a guilty secret.
