A love letter to Cadbury Creme Eggs

Chocolate has always been my happy place, and as a child i learned to diligently prolong that escapist pleasure. I lingered – still do, in fact – over every bar: patiently nibbling, prying sections apart, playfully exploring my chocolate with almost meditative absorption. Call it... mindfulness. Except mindfulness wasn't really a thing in the 1980s Manchester.

I could happily lose myself painstakingly tripping a Double Decker of its chocolate casing before eating its inner layers sequentially or (pro tip) dumping Dairy Milk chunks in hot tea. My family – puzzled, amused, appalled – found these rituals bizarre. But was I deterred? Not a bit. I was determined to pursue maximum joy, a mission that would peak with the Cadbury Creme Egg.

Launched in 1971, this modern classic always invited idiosyncratic eating, hence its slogan: 'How do you eat yours?' You may find my technique ludicrous. But given that, in a 2019 YouGov survey, 5% of people confessed to wolfing theirs down in one bite, I suggest ye judge not, lest ye be judged.

My method? Take one room-temperature Creme Egg (fridge-cold = too hard) and bite a hole in the top wide enough to insert a teaspoon handle – yes, the handle – for optimum manoeuvrability. Gently, without exerting excess pressure, lever the delicious fondant out in small amounts, eating it from said handle. Go slow. Revel in it. Carefully, digging and scraping, repeat until only traces of fondant remain on the curved interior. Next, bite down on the shell in stages before, for the grand finale, popping the egg's thicker base into your mouth. Patiently, let it melt as you ascend to cocoa nirvana.

Fun fat: individual cream-filled eggs have been available in various flavours since the 1920s and the format has continued to evolve in compelling ways (Cadbury's Caramel Egg, for example). But during the Easter season, it is to the regular Creme Egg that my inner eight-year-old devotedly returns.

In the depths of winter, the Creme Egg's presence on shelves is a bright, foil-wrapped fillip. In spring, it serves a pre-dessert, building anticipation for Easter. But, for me, its appeal foes deeper.

Give me a Creme Egg and a teaspoon and, even now, I can carve out a period of Zen-like calm. Modern life is hectic. Chocolate is an antidote. Luxuriate in it, however you see fit.