Okay, before we go burning any bridges, let me just say that chocolate and I go way back. My mum often reminds me that as a child, I used to tell tales of my dreams. Dreams that usually consisted of me frolicking in a choc-filled land, scoffing my way through my subconscious. I'd like to say that I've grown out of this at the ripe, old age of 27, but I'm afraid I'd be lying. I swear there's a girl inside of me that is dying to make this a reality. She's likely wearing sweat pants and watching Netflix too.
Given that I've probably invested more than most (financially) in chocolate, I thought we'd have had this mutual respect for each other. You know. Like an I'll scratch your back if you don't fuck with me and force me to eat calcium carbonate kinda thing.
Let me explain.
In the approach to Easter, I developed what some may describe as an unhealthy obsession with Cadbury's Mini Eggs. Not particularly helpful when you live in Finland and access to said confectioner is, ahem... zero. (Side note, Scott did source me some through a travelling work colleague who brought him several bags over from the UK. We had a fall out and I cried because he gave away four bags to his mates - Some may call it petty, I call it justified. One does not simply give away Mini Eggs.) In my quest to appease the sugar shell, chocolate craving demon within, we branched out and picked up these:
Solid chocolate Easter eggs. If I had to have placed my excitement on a scale from 1 to 10, I would have been hovering somewhere around 11. Nestled on the settee with a cup of tea, we tackled our eggs. It was hard to know where to begin. As Scott sat happily crunching his beside me, I bit the bullet.. so to speak. A third of the way in, I decided I'd had enough. The conversation between Scott and I went something along the lines of this:
Me - "Urgh, what is this shell? Seriously, could they not have made it sweeter?"
Scott - *stuffing his face* "I actually quite like it"
Me - "But it's so gritty. Like, seriously this isn't fun!"
Scott - "Seems alright to me"
Slight improv. but you get the jist. Also, I feel it's necessary to point out that the 'solid chocolate' was definitely more of a nutty praline than anything remotely Dairy Milk-esque.
As it happens, it turns out there's a very good reason why the shell tastes shit and it's likely something to do with the fact that it's been forced out of the arse of a hen. Yep ladies and gents, some wise-crack in Finland decided that a sugar shell would be far too simple for a chocolate, Easter treat, and that a much greater solution would be to use real egg shells instead. A moment's applause for Fazer please.
Upon sharing my shell woes with my fellow Brits, it turns out there's been a few more victims of this chocolate/sugar identity fraud. It feels good to not be alone. My Finnish friends on the other hand find it hilarious.
1 - 0 chocolate.
P.S. Did you know that calcium carbonate, (the stuff egg shells are made out of) is also the same stuff that sea shells and pearls are made out of? I could be forming my own cockle shell as we speak. Yes, I'm practically a mermaid.