Food You Can Eat: Reese’s Peanut Butter Easter Eggs

Just in case the Easter Bunny misses your house and you have to provide for yourself.

I love the look of disgust on the little chickadee's face. Maybe s/he has resting bitch face.

You know what I really don’t want to relive? Spring, 2020. Here is one story.

I have a pretty good memory, for better or worse, and my memories of that season are particularly vivid. I’m sure they are for all of us. NYC went into Covid lockdown around the third week of March. From my large living room windows I have an excellent view of the avenue I live on, and I remember standing at my windows for a good hour at least looking up and down the avenue, looking north toward the subway station hub and south from where the commuters should have been coming from, that first Monday morning, and seeing no signs of life. Not a single pedestrian. The only cars on the road the occasional police vehicle from the nearby precinct. A couple of ambulances, but whether that was Covid-related or not I couldn’t say.

For some bizarre reason I decided to mask up and take a stroll to one of the supermarkets, risking certain death, I hoped not. This is when I could stroll unaided. That was a hive of activity, because people who are panicked panic buy. But we had to panic buy socially distanced and following the arrows indicating which aisles took you away from the checkouts by the front door and which led you to them. I wasn’t there to panic buy, I was just curious more than anything, and in retrospect I only made things worse by being there at all, one more body crammed in there reaching for things I didn’t really need from the rapidly depleting shelves and making the lines at the checkout counters (no self-checkout at that supermarket; even pre-pandemic the attempted shoplifting there was far above average but is now commonplace) one person longer than it needed to be.

So why did I go to all this effort? Did I load my little hand-held basket with bread, milk, and eggs, or as I like to call it, the Weather Disaster All-French Toast Diet? No. I had come across a recipe for a homemade version of my absolute favorite holiday food the week before, the famous Reese’s Peanut Butter Easter Egg. We had been told by disgraced-former-Governor Andrew Cuomo (for that is now how he is always titled) that this was a PAUSE (an acronym; I forget what it was supposed to mean, it was nonsensical even then) and that we only needed the proverbial “two weeks to flatten the curve.” Well, in a little over two weeks it would be Easter, and the crisis would have passed, and either we would be having people over for an Easter brunch or we’d be going to one, and in either case I would have to have these faux-Reese’s eggs on hand. It didn’t quite work out that way, but I still made them. I make them every year now.

This will make approximately 18. If you make the oval shapes slightly bigger and use a 10-oz. bag of chocolate you’ll get 15 or 16.

Ingredients:

1 cup creamy peanut butter [This is key. Chunky would make for unpleasant “mouth feel.”]

¼ cup unsalted butter (½ stick)

1½ cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 

12 ounces melting chocolate (1 bag) [I use really dark chocolate chips, like Ghirardelli. This, annoyingly, now comes in a 10-oz bag.]

How to:

In a medium saucepan, or in a microwave-safe bowl, heat the peanut butter and butter together until they are melted. Stir in the powdered sugar and vanilla until it thickens.
Drop spoonfuls of the peanut butter mixture onto a baking sheet lined with wax or parchment paper. Shape into a flat oval egg shape. Don’t waste your time trying to sculpt these into 3-D ovals. That way madness lies. Chill for about 30 minutes.
In a microwave-safe bowl, melt the chocolate, stirring every 30 seconds, until the chocolate is completely melted and smooth.
Use a fork to dip each egg into the chocolate and return to the parchment paper until the chocolate sets.

Happy Easter, everyone!

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12 Comments

    • And so simple. These are really chocolate-coated unbaked lazy peanut butter cookies. You can do everything up to the point where you drop the peanut butter mixture onto your baking sheet, and flatten your balls (which is a weird thing to say) and bake in an oven at 350 degrees for like 10 or 15 minutes, and you have peanut butter cookies. You can use chunky peanut butter in that case, and it’s customary to make a cross-hatch pattern using the back of a fork.

      As Ina Garten would say, “Wasn’t that easy?” Which reminds me that I haven’t unleashed a good Ina Garten recipe on FYCE lately. It’s 70 degrees here and I haven’t figured out what to make for dinner tonight. Maybe I’ll flip through one of the dozen or so Ina Garten cookbooks I have and see what she would serve Jeffrey when it’s 70 degrees and the cool breezes are blowing through their Hamptons compound and write about that.

    • Dark chocolate might have some health benefits (opinions vary on this, in the same way that depending on who you believe drinking coffee either increases your risk of cancer or wards it off) and peanuts are an excellent source of protein, so if you’re whistling past the graveyard, like I am, you could consider this a healthy snack…Far superior to carrot sticks, because we are not rabbits. Sorry, Easter Bunny, but it’s true.

  1. Oh, by the way last night was the first night of Pesach/Passover, so a zissen Pesach to all. I love Passover because I love matzoh and as you can imagine this is the time when the entire island of Manhattan threatens to sink beneath the waves because of the sheer quantity of matzoh suddenly available in every nook and cranny. When Better Half stops kibbitzing with his equally gossipy colleagues I’ll send him out to pick up a few boxes. Along with whatever The Barefoot Contessa tells me I need to make dinner tonight.

      • Oh maybe! I’ve actually made that before. I love Ina, because her stuff is generally somewhat unfussy and it is foolproof. It’s amazing. I am under no illusions that she does this all herself, she must have a staff  just for recipe development alone, and the TV crews, and the food stylists and the Hamptons-based staging folks, and the book publisher and all their employees, and the website, and the lawyers, and the finance people…

        I know people who work(ed) at Clarkson Potter (past and present), her publisher, and they told me that she is not exactly all sweetness and light, but she is a perfectionist and the smartest woman in any room, so they all respect(ed) her. Plus she makes them a ton of money. They don’t say that about all their cookbook authors, but I’ll say no more.

      • This reminds me that I think fennel is an unsung hero and I should do a fennel-related FYCE post. It’s growing like ragweed up on our rooftop boxes, in our own “Pleasure & Leisure Garden/Closed Until People Realize the Condo Board Politburo Has Graciously Allowed Socializing Again,” much to the dismay of the three resident-gardeners who are trying to choke it back because it is a little aggressively invasive. For fennel I do not lack.

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