It is the Thursday before the Easter long weekend, and I am typing while eating chocolate. Between us, regardless of the date, I would be doing this anyway. But for festivities’ sake, let’s pretend that what I’m doing is special; that the holiday inspired me to look at the bag of bonbons I bought on Sunday and think, “You know what? Just this once.” Let’s pretend that Easter is a big deal to me outside of trolling Shoppers Drug Mart for candy shaped like rabbits. Let’s pretend that I’m an adult who isn’t about to rank Easter chocolate.
Because that’s exactly what I’m about to do. From worst to best, let’s do this.
No. What is this? What are you doing? Nobody wants these. I don’t want these, and I speak for us all. Gummi bears and jujubes are fine and okay on a Wednesday when you’re doing nothing even remotely productive, but they will be a fine and okay and bankable choice in September. And in May. And in November. They are the gum of the Easter candy spectrum: always available, never special. I don’t care how pastel-toned they are.
What didn’t we get about “jelly-centric”? What did I just say.
But I mean, yes, Jelly Belly brand anything are a delight, I’ll admit it.
In complete fairness to everybody I know, I’m aware that my opinion is on the fringes of reason, but also I’m in charge here, and my opinion is also the only one that matters. Here’s the thing about Lindt: it’s so sweet. Like, sweet in a way I can’t identify. Not sweet as in “candy,” sweet as in . . . what’s in this chocolate? And why? And where did the regular chocolate taste go? I hate it. Don’t give this chocolate to me. Give it to somebody else. Unless there is no other chocolate, and then I’ll take your Lindt bunny, thanks.
Hollow chocolate rabbits
Controversial: the cheaper the chocolate, the better the rabbit. Or egg. Or whatever large, hollow object you’ve chosen to spend the holiday with is, is what I’m saying. This chocolate is the Advent calendar equivalent of Easter delicacies. It is, in a word, “fine.” It is inoffensive. It is a token from childhood. It is break apart-able and easy to consume in a single setting. It is waxy, but not in a bad way. It is what I intend to buy in extreme volumes after Easter wraps up — particularly if filled with small chocolate bars and other treats. I am a grown woman is what I’m saying, and I like cheap chocolate that might be 85% wax.
Solid chocolate rabbits
Please see above, but throw in the benefit of taking longer to eat due to mass and volume. (Or are those the same thing?)
Delicious in theory, stomach-ruining in practice. Will I still eat four packs over two days? Yes. Will I consume as much Pepto Bismol as a direct result of this? Absolutely. Do I do this every year? One hundred percent. They’re a dream, in marshmallow form.
Do you like Malteasers? Or Whoppers? Great. This is exactly what Robins’ Eggs (or whatever) are. Only they look like eggs, obviously, because Easter. On Saturday, I ate a bag completely to myself. I finished the first half and thought, “Well, either commit or GTFO.” And while I was alone and talking to no one in particular, I knew this is what Easter was supposed to be about. At least until I could pick up more.
I mean, they’re Mini-Eggs. They are truly unparalleled. They have that delicious outer shell and then the chocolate inside is perfect. It is absolutely perfect. It is a perfect combination. Every other combination on earth is a disappointment. Minus, well . . .
Cadbury Creme Eggs
I love them. I love them more than I love my family, my friends. I love them in ways that are unhealthy, in ways that are obsessive. And weird. I love how they look like eggs on the inside (if a real egg got super deformed). I love that you never need more than one (in a single sitting). I love that they are wrapped in foil and me, a germaphobe, can feel safe knowing that no stranger has put their hands near what I’m about to consume. I do not love the weird knock-offs or Chips Ahoy! departures. Because they are frauds.
And that’s what Halloween is for. Don’t you dare @ me.