I am a chocolate fiend of the old school. It is my vice. My first love. I would cross high seas to get my mitts on a chilled Twirl. I would walk across burning coals to munch my way through a Whitmans hazelnut block. I would work my way through that forest in The Princess Bride with the creepy giant rats and sinking sands if there was the promise of a chocolate feast at the other end, instead of King Humperdinck. Although I would quite like to meet King Humperdinck. Nice castle. Although a little chilly looking. Would like to be Princess Buttercup, riding the horse through the fields in the dress. Although would most likely fall off into a mud puddle and sprain something. And then would want a hot shower, and I'm fairly sure they were still using the ice bucket method at this point. Not as soothing. Lively, though. I digress...
Choc cross buns? NO! You're messing with tradition! It's just not ok! I like my hot cross buns all spicy and cinnamon-y and fruity and warm and buttery. And if I were the Queen of the world (awesome job, I'm told), you might even listen to me. But chocolate and bread? My GOSH no! Unless it's a chocolate croissant. Or brioche. Or nutella white sliced, the healthiest treat of all. But that's beside the point. At Easter, I want my hot cross buns fruity, dammit!
And if I must eat a choc cross bun, I must. But I shall maintain to the end hot cross buns were meant to be fruity. After all, tis what Easter is all about, no?
image via taste.com