This pastry had such a delicate looking frosting on top, I was worried that the tiny air current caused by me bringing it to my mouth would blow it off into the Marche air. Luckily I gobbled it up faster than Obama producing his birth certificate. Just like today was a day to remember (for the houses of Windsor and Middleton), that first bite was a joy. There was certainly no Kung Fu fighting going on in my mouth. The diplomatico was diplomatically sweet but not too sweet. No taste was overpowering. It was pure harmony. I can only imagine it was composed of a light custard cream with a hint of cherry to keep the experience thrilling. The pastry just crumbled and melted like QPR's automatic promotion to the Prem as I munched through it. Washed down with some Estathe (pronounced 'esta teh') on the rocks, this was the perfect spring buccal tickler.
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