eggcellent, eggceptional, eggcetera.

Some people reserve their true passions for a certain sports team. Others live for showing you awkward portraits of their kids that they keep stuffed in their wallets. My personal deepest obsession is reserved for Easter-themed candy.

Some people claim perfection is unobtainable. Still, certain things might come close—a particularly vivid sunset, an innocent child’s laugh. Of course, there is one thing comprised solely of beauty and truth and purity. I’m talking about Cadbury Crème Eggs.

I’m going to fill my wallet with snapshots of Cadbury Crème Eggs, and you’ll have to politely tell me how delicious they looked each time we bumped into each other. I’m going to paint my body the colors of a Cadbury foil wrapper and go running across Langhorst field to prove my devotion.

The smooth chocolate shell, the creamy faux-yolk filling, the ensuing sugar rush that hypes you up like a kindergartner on Speed and Lucky Charms… All other human experiences pale in comparison to the ingestion of a Cadbury Egg. They’re basically just balls of frosting dipped in chocolate, and if there’s one thing I love more than friendship and puppies and Mel Brooks combined it’s frosting. My original grand plan for college was to immediately ingest an entire tub of frosting. Relative independence from my parents? Time for a sugar high! That’s how you know you’re really grown up—when you’re hiding out in your dorm room scooping vanilla frosting from a plastic tub with your finger.

I’ve never actually done this. The shame involved in secretly devouring an entire tub of frosting would probably cause me to spontaneously combust. Last week, however, I ate two Cadburys for breakfast. The shame from that activity still makes me wince, but it was the best I’ve ever felt heading to class. Much more effective than a cup of coffee.

Maybe I love Cadbury Eggs so much because they’re only available once a year. Holidays always put us in an obsessive frenzy. My friends hoovered so many Shamrock Shakes leading up to St. Patrick’s Day that Shamrock-colored foam began forming around their mouths, and they began demanding their latest fix in high-pitched leprechaun squeals.

But would we overdose on these things so much if we could get them all the time? If Santa Claus sat in your living room all year, would he just become the fat guy who ate all your cookies?

I might just love what Cadbury Eggs remind me of—the return of warmth and springtime. Among the many rituals of the changing of the season (spring cleaning, shaving a winter’s worth of leg hair) unwrapping the first Cadbury holds a special joy.

My advisor thinks I’m desperate to study in Oxford to complete my English degree, but there’s another secret reason. I’ve heard grand rumors from overseas. The United Kingdom, the motherland of Cadbury, offers Cadbury Crème McFlurries year-round. Basically, their geese lay foil-wrapped Cadburys each morning, and the rivers run thick with sweet yellow Cadbury Crème.

I think it’s time to forge ahead with my study abroad plans.

Feeding Frenzy

College students aren’t known for being foodies. If anything, it’s the opposite—we’re characterized as slobs who live on Ramen, Mountain Dew, and the leftover pizza under the futon.

Meal-wise, pretty much everyone on campus worships at the shrine of Chartwells, where we can sacrifice our Blue Jay Bucks for a fruitful harvest of chicken fingers and Doritos. And lately, our faith has been rewarded by a slew of new treats.

The addition of Olive’s in the Roost opens up the options of Paninis, flatbreads and salads. The revised Roost pretends to offer more healthy options, but you can now get the Kindergarten special—a grilled peanut butter and jelly. Or if you’re craving even more sugar, opt for Nutella. Add a chocolate milk and a note from mom, and you can relive your glory days of bullying (or being bullied) on the playground.

The new menu screens are the most perplexing part of Olive’s. Meals are broadcast on state-of-the art flatscreen TVs, because we don’t spend enough of our time staring at digital images as it is. Just when you’re zeroing in on what to order, the images change to reveal an entire new selection.

Having plenty of choices is great, but when a steady parade of Panini options are sliding by, it’s hard to focus your hungers in one direction. Many a student has withered away after standing frozen for too long, unable to decipher which flatbread was the best choice.
And this isn’t the only place flatscreens broadcast our cafeteria options. Upstairs, even more screens taunt us will photographs of food much more appetizing than what’s being served.

If Chartwells really wanted to take full advantage of technology, they’d harness the power of Wonkavision to send candy bars through the screens. In fact, the cafeteria should probably take a lot more cues from Willy Wonka. Oompa Loompas make for cheap labor. And just imagine a magical garden where hills are made of cafeteria meatloaf and the river flows with thick brown gravy. If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it!

If Chartwells can’t afford the rights to Wonkavision, they should at least broadcast food in 3D. And if they’re feeling really generous, they could hold occasional Vin Diesel movie days. Nothing prompts hunger like adrenaline.
Still, there are perks to this technology leap. Namely, it lets us pretend we’re living in the future, where Elmhurst’s top three majors are Interplanetary Colonization, Mind Control and Lasers. Of course, then our cafeteria meals will consist of hearty nutrient pills.

All complaining aside, it’s nice to see Chartwells is trying. If they keep striving forward, they’ll get closer and closer to the perfect food. One day, we’ll come in, and it will be ready—the culinary pinnacle of college cafeterias, the softly glowing golden nectar of the dining hall gods. One bite, and we’ll have all of life’s questions answered. We’ll all immediately receive our degrees and head out into the world to spread messages of peace, goodwill and food appreciation.

In the meantime, who’s up for Chipotle?