How do you eat yours?
So, Easter.
Great for many reasons, one of which is pancakes. Hot, cheap, delicious pancakes. Personally, I like mine with a little lemon juice and sugar, a smearing of nutella, or occasionally, rolled around a selection of finely sliced celebrations. Without wishing to toot my own horn, I kick ass at pancake flipping and would no doubt wipe the floor with any of you losers in a pancake flip-a-thon.
Another reason for loving Easter is the family turkey dinner - just like Christmas, but without the horrifying lead-up and crippling stress. Also, any enforced "gentle stroll" after dinner (translation: "for the love of all things holy, get your sodding father out of my goddamn kitchen for ten minutes or I swear I will run him through with the carving knife") does not involve frostbite.
Four days off work is always a bonus and my mother's increasingly insane Easter displays are a wonder to behold - last year's wonder featured real grass and a host of not-real fluffy chicks. But the best thing about Easter has got to be... Jesus! Only joking. Although I do like that song that goes "And it's hard to dancewiththedevilonyourback...", and without Good Friday, we would not have that hymn. No, the very best thing about Easter is egg-shaped chocolate. I'll wager that the pagans of yore did not realise when they picked the egg as a symbol of new life that in the year 2006, there would be such an array of egg-shaped confectionery.
The Cadbury Creme Egg is of course the daddy of them all.
I nearly died when my mum first bought me one of these...
... but was deeply saddened when I realised the giant chocolate egg did not contain a litre of white and yellow-stained fondant. Which was probably for the best as it would have killed me. But it's not really the giant eggs that make Easter great - it's the little ones which hit the shops a ridiculous four months early. Creme eggs, rolo eggs, mars eggs, truffle eggs, smarties eggs, double cream eggs, caramel eggs and any mini versions. I don't know why, but egg-shaped confectionery is so much more satisfying than the regular sort. Perhaps it has something to do with the Easter Sunday egg hunts we used to have in the back garden. I will never, ever forget the crushing disappointment of finding an egg with my foot when I was about seven. The brief resistance and heart-breaking pop as the hollow chocolate caved into the flowerbed under my weight stalks me through my adult life. Devastating stuff.
I'm sure religous types lamenting the loss of the Christian messgae at Easter time frown on the cynical peddling of chicken ovum-themed chocolate delights. They're probably not too happy about the hijacking of Shrove Tuesday by the Jif Lemon people either. I hope they can console themselves with the fact that all us sinners shooting into the firey depths of hell on a slick of hot, smoking fat enjoyed a few brief moments of base pleasure at the expense of their Lord and Father.
Great for many reasons, one of which is pancakes. Hot, cheap, delicious pancakes. Personally, I like mine with a little lemon juice and sugar, a smearing of nutella, or occasionally, rolled around a selection of finely sliced celebrations. Without wishing to toot my own horn, I kick ass at pancake flipping and would no doubt wipe the floor with any of you losers in a pancake flip-a-thon.
Another reason for loving Easter is the family turkey dinner - just like Christmas, but without the horrifying lead-up and crippling stress. Also, any enforced "gentle stroll" after dinner (translation: "for the love of all things holy, get your sodding father out of my goddamn kitchen for ten minutes or I swear I will run him through with the carving knife") does not involve frostbite.
Four days off work is always a bonus and my mother's increasingly insane Easter displays are a wonder to behold - last year's wonder featured real grass and a host of not-real fluffy chicks. But the best thing about Easter has got to be... Jesus! Only joking. Although I do like that song that goes "And it's hard to dancewiththedevilonyourback...", and without Good Friday, we would not have that hymn. No, the very best thing about Easter is egg-shaped chocolate. I'll wager that the pagans of yore did not realise when they picked the egg as a symbol of new life that in the year 2006, there would be such an array of egg-shaped confectionery.
The Cadbury Creme Egg is of course the daddy of them all.
I nearly died when my mum first bought me one of these...
... but was deeply saddened when I realised the giant chocolate egg did not contain a litre of white and yellow-stained fondant. Which was probably for the best as it would have killed me. But it's not really the giant eggs that make Easter great - it's the little ones which hit the shops a ridiculous four months early. Creme eggs, rolo eggs, mars eggs, truffle eggs, smarties eggs, double cream eggs, caramel eggs and any mini versions. I don't know why, but egg-shaped confectionery is so much more satisfying than the regular sort. Perhaps it has something to do with the Easter Sunday egg hunts we used to have in the back garden. I will never, ever forget the crushing disappointment of finding an egg with my foot when I was about seven. The brief resistance and heart-breaking pop as the hollow chocolate caved into the flowerbed under my weight stalks me through my adult life. Devastating stuff.
I'm sure religous types lamenting the loss of the Christian messgae at Easter time frown on the cynical peddling of chicken ovum-themed chocolate delights. They're probably not too happy about the hijacking of Shrove Tuesday by the Jif Lemon people either. I hope they can console themselves with the fact that all us sinners shooting into the firey depths of hell on a slick of hot, smoking fat enjoyed a few brief moments of base pleasure at the expense of their Lord and Father.
posted by Elizabeth at 5:08 PM
1 Comments:
That was by no means insipid.
I like those long Cadbury bunnies. Elegant Hares? In the fridge when you come out in the morning with a wide blue bow round their necks, waiting cool and silent to be nibbled. And those packets of little minty eggs you can pass around at work for weeks before Easter.
The Cadbury Creme Egg is delectable of course but is still connected in my mind with The Great Chocolate Poisoning of 1996 when a few too many were consumed and my sister couldn't stop chundering.
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