Mr Kipling’s After Dinner Mint Fancies

Where do they fit in the scale of posh-ness? 

Since it’s now legal for parties to take place (probably – although the rules could change literally any second and I’ll be inside Pentonville jail before I know it), garden parties should be a hot summer subject.

Quite what constitutes an actual garden party I am not sure. You see, to me an official garden party is a sophisticated and toffee-nosed affair that is filled with cucumber sandwiches and talk about millions – and I don’t mean the irritating sweets. The contrast is a piss-up on your driveway with copious amounts of warm Carling, horrific chart music and the odd sparring between two excess blobs of testosterone. To be honest, I’m not sure which I’d favour least.

Mr Kipling’s After Dinner Mint Fancies seem to sit somewhere in the middle. Naturally, the butler will deny their entrance to the opulent cocktail party, but the louts will also eye them with suspicion as being a possible influx of posh-ness.

Deception appears to be the name of the game for the fancies. The first thing that grabbed my attention was the box they were held in, which was approximately five stories tall and offered a view of Sydney Opera House on one side and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon on the other. The cakes, however, sloshed about from side to side in their obviously overly large container.

They were a fair size, wrapped individually and apparently little changed over the years (I always used to find fancies sickly, so I was quite apprehensive. It was a similar fear to what I would experience being thrown into a wrestling ring). They were shrouded in a layer of solid icing – well, apart from the bottom which was icing-less for some reason that I’m certain would have had nothing to do with cost.

The icing itself carried a faint whiff of mint, but the main drama was performed by the large dollop of green cream that spewed from the top of the cake, rushing out and showing off plenty of flavour. The sponge that settled underneath it was soft and lightly chocolatey, ultimately leading to a combination that was a tasty little bite.

Final review rating: the only party experience that won’t make you vomit (well, unless you devour the whole box) – 4* out of 5.

Review by JAMES LEWIS

Wanderer, wonderer and writer of the Chocolate Dissection blog (which will ideally melt hearts rather than brains). Reliable with sarcasm, less so with a scalpel. Twitter: @IdeasJimbound

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