The Easter week is upon us and every store in town is chock full of egged-shaped candy of every flavor. The colors inspire me, but the tastes can leave me a little confused. Several years back, I tried my hand as an Easter candy food writer. I had even included some affiliate links for the candy I liked. My youngest daughter was 4 and our youngest son was 15 months. This is what happened.
April, 2012–Easter Candy Blitz
Every now and again, I suffer from extreme writer’s block. Today was no different, and I couldn’t write a thing. I loaded the Lil’ Worrells in the truck and took off to buy crap I don’t need groceries, as I often do when I need a creative laxative. Lil’ K. and Lil’ P. immediately noted the ginormous candy bunnies, so we ended up having a rabbit viewing on the Easter aisle. After drowning in a sea of Peeps and egg shaped garbage, I had a virtual brain hurricane. I would eat a truckload of candy sample a few Easter candy brands and try my hand as a food reviewer. Upon our arrival at home, the Lil’ Worrells and I immediately began unpacking some sugar.
My first victim in the bag was the creepy-looking chocolate bunny I bought for us to sample. I hate chocolate rabbits because they generally possess the consistency of molded cement. I caved and bought one because I knew I couldn’t write about Easter candy without a rabbit. It only cost a couple of bucks anyway.
We had been transfixed by the gargantuan size of some of the candy Easter rabbits we saw at the store.
“Mama, is that thing made out of just chocolate?” Lil’ K. asked, pointing to a package containing a bunny no less than three feet tall. I could have owned it for $7.98.
“Yep,” I told her, examining the boxed diabetes. I imagined the poor kids breaking off their teeth trying to gnaw through the ears on this animal. When I read the nutrition label on the thing and found that the entire rabbit had 2,500 calories, I decided to buy stock in a statin-making pharmaceutical company immediately upon my return home.
I opened the slimming 550 calorie bunny I bought. Lil’ K., who only eats raw broccoli, chicken nuggets, Oreos, and shredded cheese, took one bite out of my cheaper rabbit’s ears and handed it back to me.
“Too yucky,” she said. I took a bite, as well, and threw the rest away. It tasted like tree bark.
“I hope the Easter bunny doesn’t bring me a chocolate bunny,” said Lil’ K.
We got into the Peeps next. Lil’ K. sniffed one of these Easter candy staples, took a nibble and promptly spat it out.
“Too sticky,” she said.
I stuck a little piece in Lil’ P.’s mouth. He eats anything that doesn’t move, but favors leaves, sticks, and the three-day old puffed snacks he finds languishing in the folds of his high chair.
“MMMMMMM,” he said, at first. A strange look crossed his face.
“PPPHHHHHH?” he inquired, as the Peep piece began to take over the roof of his mouth.
To me, Peeps are characters, not food. I like to play with, rather than eat, these gooey little boogers. I bit the heads off two and left their mushy bodies on the counter. Peepicide! Oh, the gore! I created a scene for the premier of an upcoming series I will call “Peep Scene Investigation” (PSI). I included an affiliate link here because these are totally fun to play with.
Cadbury Cream Eggs
Killing Peeps takes a toll on one’s spirit, and I looked to my long-time favorite Cadbury Cream Eggs for rejuvenation. I’ve included the affiliate link for these because I’d totally recommend them. I inhaled one of these chocolate ovals of pure heaven. Luckily, Lil’ K. refused to sample an egg, and Lil’ P. was still trying to figure out how to eat his Peep. I spent a few short minutes in Easter candy bliss savoring my cream egg.
I remembered the disappointment that washed over me this morning as I pawed through the packages of jelly beans on the shelves. Wally Mart had run slam out of black jelly beans. Luckily, I had stocked up earlier in the week, but still. I have discriminating tastes when it comes to jelly beans.
I had to settle for some glittery generic brand beans and these teeny ovals poorly disguised as the more expensive brand. After eating a few tiny beans, I could have sworn one of them was turd-flavored. I haven’t been in the habit of eating poop, but if crap had a flavor, this jelly bean would be it. Blech!
I proceeded to open the glitter beans, pondering what this company inserted into these beans to make them sparkle. As I picked through the predominantly purple pack, I found that there was not one black jelly bean in the bunch. I began to think that a letter to the jelly bean factory could be in order. Black jellybeans lend spice to a handful of grape, blue raspberry, and those mysteriously odd white flavored beans. White jelly beans taste like butt, if you ask me. Did adding bling to these white beans improve their flavor? I popped one and promptly spat it out. You can dress up a white bean, but you’d just better leave it in the package. NASTY!
By this time, I was ready to puke from my candy binge sampling. Lil’ K. and Lil’ P. had busied themselves chasing each other around the house and screaming at the tops of their respective lungs. I got out some pillows and blankets in preparation for the sugar high crash. A nap was in order for the three of us. Out of all that Easter candy, the only brand I’d really recommend is Cadbury. Due to the danger of accidently eating a white jelly bean, I’d steer clear of all jelly beans except the black ones. Based the way my belly felt, I’d advise all of us to stay out of the candy. Hollow, creepy bunny chocolate just isn’t worth the calories anyway!