Let’s dissect the real star of the show: the sandwiches. M&S knows its audience, so they don't do weird, experimental fillings like "chickpea and saffron." You get the holy trinity: ham and mustard, egg and cress, and smoked salmon and cream cheese. They are exactly what you think they are, which is the best compliment I can give them.
The bread is always soft, but not floopy. The crusts are off, because that’s the rule of afternoon tea and M&S respects the law. Each triangle is a tiny, perfect unit of "I could eat ten of these" energy. Also, they don’t skimp on the butter, which is a green flag in my book.
The best part? You can actually taste the ingredients. The ham isn't that weird, shiny processed stuff; it looks like proper ham. And the salmon isn't a sliver of sadness; it’s a generous layer. For a café attached to a clothing store, the attention to sandwich detail is borderline obsessive—and I love that for them.
The Scone: The Make-or-Break Moment
Now, let’s get serious. The scone is the moral center of any afternoon tea. The M&S scone is a champion. It arrives warm—properly warm, not just "lukewarm from the microwave"—and has a crumbly, almost buttery exterior that yields to a fluffy, soft inside. It’s not a rock; it’s a cloud with a tan.
We tried the M&S £10 afternoon tea perfect for Mother's Day and couldn
You get a pot of clotted cream that is actually thick enough to stay on the spoon. And the jam (strawberry, obviously) has real fruit chunks in it. The entire experience is a masterclass in respecting the scone. If you try to eat it with your knife, fine. But I dare you to follow the Cornish method and just dollop the cream first. Go on, be a rebel.
I once saw a woman ask for an extra scone (you get two between two people) and the server just smiled and brought it. No drama, no surcharge. That feeling of victory? Priceless.
