Toby Atkin-Wright

Every year for Christmas my best present is always a tin of condensed milk. When I was a child, my father, brother, and I, each received an annual tin; I can't remember whether Polly ever developed the taste for it. The tin would be opened on Christmas Day, and then kept in the fridge and consumed with a teaspoon over the coming days. Sheer joy. For me, the taste of Christmas is the taste of condensed milk.

I'd be happy to forego all other puddings, to never eat chocolate again, and for ice cream to disappear from the supermarket shelves, as long as I had an annual tin of condensed milk.

Every year for Christmas my best present is always a tin of condensed milk. When I was a child, my father, brother, and I, each received an annual tin; I can't remember whether Polly ever developed the taste for it. The tin would be opened on Christmas Day, and then kept in the fridge and consumed with a teaspoon over the coming days. Sheer joy. For me, the taste of Christmas is the taste of condensed milk.

I'd be happy to forego all other puddings, to never eat chocolate again, and for ice cream to disappear from the supermarket shelves, as long as I had an annual tin of condensed milk.