chocolate

You know when you’ve had one too many wines and you swear you’ll never drink again? Well, if I see another mini chocolate egg…. Even as I write this, there is a basket full of little chocolate eggs glaring at me. Free me of this foil wrap. You know you want to.

As a child growing up in Ireland, we used to give up sweets for Lent, but we still used to buy sweets and chocolate bars and hide them in a shoe box under our beds, to be admired longingly occasionally, a little peek into the box, looking but no touching, except for St. Patricks Day, when we were allowed a day off from the non-sweet eating business and we’d devour something with gusto.

Then, on Easter morning, it was like having a selection box at Christmas (for the non Irish – look up selection box) and we’d be up and eating chocolate at dawn and feeling sick by breakfast. Do you remember that scene from the movie Chocolat, when the woman was found comatose in the shop window after eating all the chocolate?

My sister could make her Easter eggs last weeks, months even and when that shiny foil was but a distant memory to me and my brothers, my sister would casually produce an egg and have us wishing we hadn’t eaten ours quite so quickly.

The Easter Bunny had not planned on visiting our place this year, but bounced in at the request of my daughter, scattering eggs like glitter around the house. There are still a couple missing and I am hoping it’s not the dog who finds them.

This year I am not going to buy any more eggs for half nothing from the supermarkets tomorrow. No I am not. Definitely not. Certain of that. They will not sneak in my basket. No sir. For sure. Nope. No extra eggs in this house. Chocolate? Pfft, don’t need any of that. Forget that idea. Unhealthy, full of sugar.

Actually, I really won’t, honestly. You can count on that.

Anyway, here’s some chocolate to drool over, for the day that’s in it. This is birthday cake I made for a friend some time ago.

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Aoife

xxx