fresh, firm, almost a pudding

The spoon goes in without effort and lifts three layers at once: the yellow of the custard, the pink of the soaked sponge, the dark brown of the chocolate. It's a recipe they've made here forever, and it shows.

At the bite it's fresh, firm to just the right degree, almost a pudding. It doesn't melt away, it holds its shape on the spoon and then opens up full in the mouth. The liquor comes through at once and decisive, it's what gives the character, that old-cupboard note I recognise before I even work out what it is.

The chocolate isn't bitter, even if at first taste you'd want to call it that. It doesn't add bitterness, it discharges the sweetness. It falls onto the yellow custard, which on its own would be round and all sugar, and brings it back down, taking away the tiredness that too much sweet leaves at the base. It's what holds all the rest up.