Being lactose intolerant, I can only eat small amounts of milk chocolate without getting sick. Depending on the chocolate itself, I can usually go for a while before my tolerance level is reached. Dark chocolate I can eat till the cows come home, as long as it’s good European dark chocolate, and not that wussy American crap they put milk in to appease our wussy American taste buds.
I’m pretty good at avoiding all chocolate, though, because being sick is not my favorite thing in the world, and there are other things I can indulge myself with that don’t contain chocolate at all.
With one exception.
Easter Candy.
This is the one time of year when my will power fails me. When I can’t pass by the bags of Cadbury Chocolate Mini Eggs, Cadbury Cream Eggs, Cadbury Caramel Eggs. When I can’t simply look the other way as I walk by the Whopper’s Malted Milk Eggs or the Brach’s Dark Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Crème Eggs. When the allure of prettily-colored Easter M&M’s call to me and I become weak in the knees. When a simple bag of Licorice Jelly Belly’s isn’t enough to sustain me.
For 11 months out of the year, I can avoid seasonal candies. I can walk right by the chocolate section — even look it over — and walk away with nothing in my shopping cart.
Come Easter, and my iron will turns to mush.
Have you ever noticed how a Cadbury Mini Egg smells? There’s something about them – it’s as if the creators of Cadbury Chocolates were tea lovers, and understood the importance of smell to taste. Even before you put that extremely creamy and otherworldly-smooth piece of chocolate into your mouth, you can smell the distinctive light delicacy that calls to mind softness and a bright Spring day.
It’s Endorphins in food form. Legalized valium. Chocolate Nirvana.
Which means hitting the jayne (my gym) on weekends as well as weekdays – salads for dinner more often than not – and a promise that as soon as Easter’s over, everything will be fine.
In the meantime, pass me that Cream Egg, and damn you Cadbury chocolate.
The Velvet Zebra 