Creme Egg Cup Cakes


Friday 17th April

Yes, Easter is over but my sister-in-law’s love of Cadbury’s Creme Eggs is all year round. We are seeing her this weekend and I have been stock-piling packets of mini Creme Eggs in anticipation of making something for this get-together. 

Now the Easter season is over, mini Creme Eggs are impossible to get hold of, but I’m safe and smug in the knowledge that mine are tucked away at the back of the cupboard (can you see where this is heading?!).

I have scoured the internet for recipes, but this one for cupcakes with mini eggs baked inside, is my favourite. 

Unfortunately it means a trip in to town to buy pretty gold cupcake cases and a cake box to carry them in. Ollie, as a hater of shopping in all its guises, can only be persuaded in to town on the following conditions: the trip must involve: (1) a bus ride (2) a hot chocolate or cone of chips off the market (3) some expensive Lego. It is difficult to work within these perimeters and not bankrupt yourself everytime you go into town.

We have the usual kerfuffle to get out of the door in the morning, and then I remember I need £3.50 to get the bus. Drat! The purse is empty but Daisy saves the day by lending me £8 she’s got squirrelled away. I kiss her in gratitude, then my heart sinks when she emerges from her room with a make-up bag full of coppers. She nearly buckles under the weight of it. The bus driver’s going to love me.

In town I nip the Lego issue in the bud by heading straight to Poundland (yes, they do do ‘Lego’; admittedly it doesn’t stick together properly, but it’s Lego-ish). When we enter the discount store (fortnightly), I never grow tired of saying to Ollie, (with a flourish of the arm), “You can have anything in here you want!”

 To which he always replies, 

“What? Anything?!”

Today he chooses a ‘Lego’ set and a goodie bag for the grand total of £2. He has leant his negotiation skills from his sister; I specifically said, ‘one thing’. 

The stress of getting here and having to hand over my own body weight in 2ps to the bus driver, means I need a cup of tea. We hit the nearest cafe. No sooner have I ordered than Ollie has the goodie bag open and is demanding I show him how to make a bracelet with the pack of a thousand white loombands that came in it.

Last time I made a loom band bracelet was in the summer with Daisy when we were on a train halfway up the Pyrenees. I was trying to look at the view; she was trying to teach me a complicated method of bracelet-making.

The only thing that comes back to me now is that you make them on your first two fingers. The waitress comes over as I’m binding Ollie’s fingers together with what looks like tiny elastic bands.

“Oww mummy! What are you doing? You’re hurting me!” he cries indignantly. 

I hurriedly put it onto my fingers to finish off while he assembles, or attempts to assemble the one pound Lego. 

The rest of the shopping trip goes well, so well that I decide to push my luck and add on a visit to the health food shop. Ollie’s mood darkens as soon as we walk in the door. He finds a random box of herbal tea and demands I buy it. When I politely decline, he says in a low, growly voice,

“You’re hurting my feelings,” 

It sounds more like a threat than a statement. I hurriedly pick up a few items but his demands to buy the tea are getting louder. When I turn to go, he refuses to leave until the tea has been purchased. 

For a second I consider buying it for an easy life but I know he’s bruising for a fight so we might as well get it over with now. I crouch down to talk to him using my firm, whispering voice especially reserved for dealing with tantrums in public. Ollie is clinging on to a shelf for dear life, loudly refusing to EVER. LEAVE. THE. SHOP!

I stand up and tell him I’ll wait for him outside. It looks like a tactic but actually I’m going to put down all my bags before I manhandle him off the premises.

“Having a hard time?”

I look up. It’s a man fixing the notice board opposite the shop. Oh dear. Maybe we were causing more of a scene than I realised.

By now Ollie has moved to the front of the shop to press his face against the glass; tongue out. I’m just negotiating him out of the door when the shop owner passes by.

“You deserve a medal, you really do,” she says. I laugh.

“I may be here for sometime,” I reply.

“Well we’ll get you a coffee if you need one,” chimes the workman, “we’ve all been there”. 

Wow. What a difference! I wish people were always this supportive in a tantrum situation. 

In the end, Ollie is so shocked by the workman’s offer to put him to work for the day, that he crys then accepts my offer of flapjack. I feed him tit-bits like a baby bird right there on the pavement. 

At home, very relieved to be back, I open the cupboard door to get out the mini Creme Eggs. THEY HAVE GONE!!! It’s enough to send a woman over the edge. I’ve been saving them for two months! I send Tom, who is in an important meeting  in London, a text. It begins: There is a crisis at home. Call immediately……

Turns out the eggs were melted down for ‘Daddy’s Delight’. If you are unaware of the phenomenon that is Daddy’s Delight , please read the post of the same name. 

In the event, I find eight rogue eggs at the back of the cupboard. It is a lottery which cupcakes contain them and which don’t.

The recipe (see below) works very well. I would highly recommend it. It may have been a painful process getting here, but I have been inspired and I’ll be experimenting with more chocolates-inside-cupcakes in the near future. Watch this space!

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