What I am WIlling to Do for Chocolate

To be very honest, I don't know if I go to get the eggs or just to see what obstacle will face me at the front door.  The eggs are to die for and I usually starting thinking about them the first of February.  And about the second week, I start planning my strategy on how to obtain these southern culinary delights.  If you have ever lived in Kernersville or have known anyone that has, you know exactly what I am talking about.  Once you have had one, you never forget. 

It is a small church in the middle of Kernersville.  I do not know anyone personally who attends there and come to think of it, that is very weird.  I probably know at least one person who attends every church Kernersville, either because I personally know you, my husband knows you or I have taken care of you or a family member or my daddy or mother in law knows you. Kernersville is just that kind of town. 

I have never gotten past the fellowship hall.  NEVER. I think they have a sanctuary but I am really not sure. And  I am starting to think they might sacrifice chickens or something in there or at least handle snakes.  The fellowship hall is your typical small church fellowship hall with a small church kitchen.  If you are from the South, you know what I am talking about.  And personally, my interactions make me think that perhaps the preacher should do just a little more preaching on that whole fellowship concept.  Just saying. 

It all begins Ash Wednesday.  The eggs.  Last year they made 80,000.  I was told this year it would be closer to 87,000.  These confections are about the size of your fist.  Two flavors: peanut butter or coconut.  Hand rolled.  Hand dipped.  Hand wrapped.  These eggs are so famous, they were featured on the cover of North Carolina State magazine last Easter. 

Easter is big in North Carolina, particularly Forsyth county.  The Moravians claim they celebrate it the best and the sunrise service at God's Acre can not be beat.  But nobody can beat these eggs.  Nobody.  I am told the recipe is a tightly guarded secret.  They can't tell you the recipe 'cuz then they would have to shoot you.  And shoot you they would, on the spot, without blinking an eye. Even my mother in law doesn't know the recipe and she knows every single secret worth sharing in Kernersville.  That woman amazes me.  I love  these eggs so much, I have seriously considered hiring my own Black Ops team to storm the building and steal the recipe for me. To be   perfectlyy honest though, I am not sure a Black Ops team would make in and out of the building without suffering mass causalities.  I know on a couple of occasions I didn't know if I was coming out alive. 

Getting to those eggs is something of Herculean feat.  And now that I think of it, Lent is the season of pain and suffering, and spiritual journeying, so maybe there is a metaphor here.  In my lifetime, I am guessing I purchased at least 250 dozen. At least

As soon as you hit the church parking lot you can smell the chocolate.  There is this lovely large wooden painted Easter Egg sign on the front lawn of the church that reads: Eggs are Here!.  Now that I think about it, that egg sign is bigger than the cross out front.  Just saying.

When they first starting making these eggs you could just drop by and buy them.  These really nice people put them in nice white bags and smiled at you.  Things have changed.  Boy have they changed. 

So about 10 years ago, I had made about three trips to buy eggs.  It was Maundy Thrus and  I needed a few more.  The Egg sign was still out.  I pulled into the church parking lot and walked in.  I could see about 50  boxes of eggs.  I asked if I could buy a dozen.  The keeper of the eggs said that they stopped selling eggs on Palm Sunday.  Oh.  I apologized and stared past her at those eggs. She reluctantly gave in and sold me a dozen but chastised me for being late.  She asked me if I realized it was Holy Week?  Yep. She did.  I am not sure of the liturgical significance of these chocolate covered eggs but apparently God does not want you to eat them during Holy Week.

So about 5 ears ago, I dropped by and asked to buy some eggs.  Now mind you, when you walk in, there are table after table of eggs in various preparation stages.  Thousands of eggs.  And the egg makers are hard at work making more.  They make eggs from 9 to 12 every day and wrap eggs from 1 to 4 every day except weekends. 

So I walk in and ask to buy 16 dozen eggs.  The egg lady said, "did you call your order in?"   I said, "No."  She said, "Well if you want more than a dozen you have to call your order in."   I said, "Can I give it to you now and I will come back?"  She said in a not very friendly voice, "No, I will sell you some today, just remember the rule for next year." OK. 

So next year, I call ahead and order about 14 dozen.  Left my order with the not so very nice phone person.  I show up that afternoon only to learn that if you call an order in...it won't be ready till the next day...but since I was there..they would make an exception.  But I was instructed very firmly, and not so nicely by the egg policewoman at the front door, not to drop in at the church fellowship hall without an appointment. I muttered under my breath, well can I come to pray?  Who heard of having to have permission to go to a church?  

So the next year, I call ahead and confirm my pick up day with the instructions that if I did not show up within 24 hours of ordering, my eggs would be returned to the general egg population.  And being so addicted to these eggs, you better believe I was there on time and I thought, this year, this year I will not be called out for some mysterious egg infraction.  And you are so not going to believe this.  I walk in, ask the egg Nazi for my order and she inquires, "did you fill out the on line form, because you are suppose to fill out the on line form for all large orders."  I told her I just called ahead to the church office and they did not inform of the web based ordering system.  She begrudgingly gave me eggs. Rolled her eyes at me. By the way, my egg order was sitting there with my name on it, ready for pick up.

So the following the year, I thought I am up to the test.  I am going to cover every base.  I called ahead.  I arranged my pickup time.  I place the online order.  I arrive at 1202pm.  The egg controller is about to lock the door.  Well, actually she locked the door as I was getting out of my car waving at her ( I was actually smiling and waving) and yes she was looking me dead in the eye.  She opens the door.  She informs me that egg pick up time is from 9 am to 12 noon and they break for lunch (in the fellowship hall with all the eggs) from 12 pm to 1 pm and then they re open for business. Oh. I told her I was not aware of the pick up times and I would just come back in an hour.  I need to mention here that pick up times were not mentioned on the web based order system, not on the larger than a small pasture ornament egg sign sitting right next to the cross on the church front lawn, and the sign on the fellowship hall door that listed operating hours was about 8 by 10 inches with 10 point font.  Seriously.  I needed my reading glasses just to read it.  Gave a whole new meaning to fine print.  She saw my hospice name tag and told me she would go ahead and give me my eggs but to remember next time.  And yes my eggs were in a bag with my name on them and I brought the correct cash. 

So the next year, I am determined to get this right.  Determined.  It is now become not so much about those eggs, but the fight to get them. I have turned this into some type of Lenten act of suffering.  Suffering over obtaining very large quantities of chocolate and peanut butter and coconut. Yep.   I am determined to make these people be nice to me. Need I mention not one has invited me to church yet?  Not that I would go, but I just find it odd.  I am a large volume, frequent, loyal customer.  So I call my egg order in, fill out the web based form, commit to a pick up time, literally drive by the night before pre arranged pick up to double check the fine print on the door.

I go in.  All dressed up in my adult clothes.  I have my pearls on.  My very nice Italian loafers.  My best white blouse and my favorite pink sweater.  My best spring lipstick. I request my pre-approved, prepaid, prearranged pick up order AND you are SO not going to believe this...She asked if I need bags for my 20 dozen eggs and did I want them separated?. Because if I wanted them separated and put in bags, she was going to have to count.  I stood there wondering didn't they have to be counted anyway?  I told her I guess I could carry them out in my arms, but it would take a few trips.  Reluctantly she throw them in a box.  And this time I couldn't resist.  I smiled my biggest southern smile and said "BLESS YOUR HEART."  Now any self respecting southerner knows that we only result to that phrase when we really want to say, "Are you @##$ing kidding me?"

So this year I was ready.  I was ready, but I was going to challenge the system just a bit.  I stopped by.  Yep.  I did a drive by.  I wanted an extra 3 dozen I had not prearranged prepaid order. I walk in at 135 pm.  I had cash.  I had a cross on today.  These egg people were sitting at the table wrapping eggs.  I am guessing they were surrounded by about 20,000.  She asks may I help you?  I said I would like to buy some eggs.  She asked the standard protocol of questions and when she learned I wanted extra, she turned to her egg buddies and said., "Can we sell her any eggs?"  They reluctantly said  "I guess so."  They filled my order and ask if I want bags.  I politely turned them down.  Been down that road before.  And then I asked, "So how many eggs did you make this year?" The answer 87000.  I said 87000.  She said yep.  And we are already starting a waiting list.  So you can't have anymore because we stopped taking orders yesterday.  I turned my biggest smile on and said, Bless your heart.  I guess I am just blessed beyond measure that you graciously gave me 36 of the 87000. 

So, I am all done egg hunting this year. I am seriously considering asking the egg lady if prehaps I could volunteer next year for the egg war effort.  I thought about offering a course on how to be nice or prehaps these are the most stressed church people I have ever met and need some relaxation techniques.  Or perhaps they are distantly related to my bad church date.  I do know one thing- those eggs are a slice of heaven if you have to go through hell to get one.