The Art and Science of Dunking Your Cookies.

Sound advice about taking the plunge.

The Art and Science of Dunking Your Cookies.

     I saw dunking for the first time in my life when my folks let me and my sister stay overnight with our grandmother in the Bronx. In the morning, Grandma Feigenbaum would fix strong black tea, served in a thick glass, and dunk what looked like a combination of a cookie and a cracker into the steaming brew. She’d eat several softened biscuits before she made herself ready for the day. In retrospect, I realized why that breakfast suited her. Overnight, her teeth sat at the bottom of a glass on her nightstand.

     My father dunked. My playmate’s mother dunked. By the time I reached eight years old, I decided to take the plunge. The opportunity came when my mother served me a plate of four, brown sugar cookies and a glass of milk. The experience ended in a reckless mess. I dunked too long. Half the first cookie sank to the bottom of the glass before I could say Rumpelstiltskin. The rest of the treat did the same. It would take countless dunks in milk and, later, coffee before I improved my trial-and-error method.

     I had not yet had a course in physics. Thanks to Dr. Len Fisher, an Australian scientist, we now have a formula for determining correct dunking technique: L2=gDt/4h, i.e. the square of the liquid level equals the surface tension of the coffee multiplied with the average pore diameter of a biscuit and the amount of time the biscuit is dunked, divided by the viscosity of the coffee times 4. What this says to me: only Albert Einstein could dunk perfectly every time.

     Nevertheless, I still love the challenge of immersing biscotti, plain bagels, and cookies in hot java. An internet search revealed that biscotti shouldn’t be dunked for more than two seconds. I counted silently to myself when I dipped the porous confection. The effort turned out well. Unfortunately, another posting about biscotti said the Italians don’t dunk biscotti in coffee—they dunk in wine. That’s a bridge too far for me.

     A bagel, on the other hand, can handle a longer dunk time. The massive roll has a spongelike quality, which invites you to test the limits of absorption. If you try this, my advice is to stay with a plain bagel. Additives like raisins, onion, poppy seeds, garlic, or peppers could create havoc, resulting in an irregular dunk. Go for consistency.

     I’ve come to believe that the successful dunker develops an instinct based on experience and familiarity with the density of various dunkables. Take notes. Keep a log. Over time, you’ll develop expertise that is invaluable. You may even find yourself in high demand as a dunking consultant for those who have suffered unfortunate soggy outcomes.

     As with any skill, practice makes perfect. Take on the challenge. See if you have the right stuff. Go for it, baby!