The Palmer Method

I am personally partial to chocolate Easter Bunnies -- especially the bunnies manufactured by the Palmer candy company. Those named Popper and Sunny, Lil' Hopper and Baby Binks I count among my favorites. These Easter treats are hollow and somewhat fragile and must be eaten with extreme care, especially when wolfing down one or two while driving out of the parking lot of Eckerd’s. It is here where I buy my Palmer bunnies by the dozens -- ostensibly for grand children, nieces, nephews and favored neighborhood children. One learns early that counter staff in drug stores are prone to judgmental expressions of disdain if they suspect adults of buying Easter candy for themselves. So, to avoid such negative profiling, I have learned to fabricate elaborate stories about treating neighborhood urchins to Easter goodies or giving young relatives generous Easter gifts. Of course, I have no nieces or nephews, I care naught for the neighborhood children and my grand children live 700 miles away. Nor would I ever consider sharing my chocolate bunnies with any of them, even if they lived next door. Let them get their own bunnies. After all, they're children. Someone is bound to buy them chocolate bunnies for Easter. Adults have to forage for these treats on their own.

Despite the fact that the quality of Palmer chocolate is anything but gourmet, the company nevertheless goes to remarkable lengths with the packaging and preserving of their hollow bunny treats. Not only have they found it necessary to wrap these confections of little or no know nutritional value in gaily colored foil, the visage of the characteristically demented holiday hare, complete with toothy smile and gaudy bow tie or ribbon, (depending on its sex), emblazoned on the shiny surface. But, (in all likelihood because these bunnies are hollow), Palmer has also decided, in order that the chocolate not get crushed beyond recognition before being eaten and therefore rendered unsellable, (as pulverized chocolate bunny parts do not seem that attractive to the average consumer), each bunny must also be carefully cradled by its ears and feet between several fiercely inviolable layers of festively colored cardboard, and then shrink-wrapped in remarkably impenetrable plastic. While this certainly makes wresting the confection from its prison nearly impossible while driving, one has to admire the construction of each little package. Not only is each wrapper within a wrapper within yet another wrapper an unequivocal burden on the long-suffering ecology of burgeoning landfills nationwide, but this process of multiple packaging yields a product that doubtlessly has a shelf life akin to that of plutonium, making the products that don't sell one Easter available the next, and the next, and the next, until the treats are either purchased or disintegrate completely in their foil and cardboard armor. Not surprisingly, one never finds an expiration date on holiday candy of any kind. Easter bunnies are no exception.

Because of the nature of the Palmer bunny wrapping method, accessing the confection while operating a moving vehicle is not advisable. This maneuver is analogous to dialing a mobile phone while driving one's vehicle on a California Interstate during rush hour. Trying to unwrap a Palmer bunny while driving should no doubt be a criminal offense, but I have found that it is virtually impossible to resist eating at least one bunny long before ever arriving home. Temptation is too great. Of course, the inevitable epic sugar rush is also a dangerous side-effect of flagrant bunny consumption, so caution is advised here as well. Amateur chocolate consumers are advised against mixing copious amounts of Easter confections with driving. I suggest finding a diabetic as designated driver.

Yet, to satisfy my felonious lust for a Palmer bunny or two while still remaining relatively safe in my moving vehicle I have devised what I have come to call the Palmer Method. (This is not to be confused with the original Palmer Method of penmanship, now sadly long abandoned, by which young children were taught to write legibly.) My Palmer method, by the way, also works while sitting in a revolving desk chair in front of a computer screen, or sneaking bits of bunny while on the run between classes, or surreptitiously consuming copious bunny parts before others discover chocolate is nearby. But the focus of this discussion remains on safely consuming while driving.

The most difficult part of the process, as I have previously suggested, is accessing the confection in the first place. Palmer does not make this easy for consumers, whether they are moving or remaining stationary. Extricating the foil-wrapped rabbit from its hermetic captivity is much like successfully negotiating a breech birth. It takes a gentle and patient hand to release the bunny from the confines of its cardboard bondage without damaging an ear or caving in a rib. While maintaining the integrity of the bunny is not necessarily requisite to its enjoyment, if one is to avoid losing any fragment or shard of chocolate while driving distractedly, one should endeavor to keep the bunny's body intact as long as physically possible. One should especially strive for this while driving as it is difficult to fish for lost crumbs of chocolate from beneath one's bucket seat or from between one's legs while still maintaining reasonable control of the car and avoiding being gawked at by fellow drivers, as others on the road are wont to draw unusual and often lewd conclusions if they see a driver's hand frequently disappearing into his lap, regardless the reason.

The first thing one must do to release the foil-clad bunny is to puncture the plastic shrink wrap. This can be accomplished without much difficulty with a pen, pencil, hairpin or other sharp object one may find in one's car. Unhappily, old drinking straws found in the neighboring seat are of little value. Tire pressure gauges are also seldom effective and are often rendered useless in the process. Sporks, those tine-spined plastic spoons one gets at fast food drive-throughs, are also relatively ineffective, as they tend to break before the wrapping does. Nor is stabbing the plastic repeatedly with the blunt end of one's finger efficacious. However, it is here where women generally have the advantage over men, as they often sport long fingernails and these domestic weapons are perfect for tearing the tenacious wrap into shreds. Even so, ladies be warned. Lee Press-On Nails have often been lost forever, ricocheting off the unforgiving plastic like so many tiddly winks, only to be buried evermore in back seat upholstery. Then again, some of these nails, when applied at just the wrong angle, have been known to move so swiftly through the plastic that they become deeply imbedded in the bunny's chocolate and foil flesh, there to protruded like the spines of a hedgehog until they can be pulled from the carcass at the next red light. So caution is advised, whatever manner is used to render the plastic gone.

With the plastic punctured, it is relatively easy to remove and can be done so if one is even remotely good at driving with one hand. The other hand can thus be employed to wrestle off the plastic wrap. If a particular wrapping proves peculiarly contrary and unyielding, one can also, as a last resort, engage one's teeth in the process, being mindful both of one's dental work and of obscuring one's view of the road by inadvertently placing the box in front of one's eyes. Caution and good judgment are advised.

With the plastic wrap now gone, it is time to extract the bunny from its cardboard host. This can also be done with one hand. Slight pressure against the cardboard, right where it grips the bunny's ears, will generally free the candy coney from bondage. Care, however, should be taken to apply pressure to the cardboard rather than the ears of the bunny itself. While the ears are the most substantial part of the entire chocolate body, they can still nevertheless be broken. And while the foil cover keeps the ears from disappearing onto the floorboards should this happen, one must consider that, immediately upon unwrapping the foil, the broken ears are at large and must be consumed altogether immediately or lost. Too, one must understand that the ears, being the most sizeable part of the confection's design, are difficult to stuff in one's mouth whole. Again, one's driving neighbors should be considered when attempting this, as it is unseemly to view another driver engaged in any sort of mouth stuffing. Good taste should always prevail when one finds oneself engaged in eating while driving. Causing neighboring drivers to gag in sympathetic reaction is not sporting.

With the bunny now safely removed intact from the cardboard, the final process of removing the foil begins. There are two schools of approach to this. One encourages careful removal of the foil design for later entertainment. These foil dressings can be saved and later made into all sorts of artistic oddments: Origami animals, garish aluminum ornaments and cheap cat toys are but a few examples. However, most consumers simply tear off the foil, throw it into the back seat and attack the chocolate bunny with rabid fervor. I generally employ the latter approach as I have found it even more difficult to create Origami swans while driving than accessing Palmer packages.

Finally, while there are any number of individual approaches to finally enjoying one's chocolate bunny, there are two generally accepted techniques used to consume the coveted prized confection: the anterior method and the posterior method. The anterior method was alluded to earlier. In this method, one eats the ears first. One can consume the entire ear mass in one bite or one can carefully nip small, delicious bits of ear at one's leisure. Either technique is acceptable. Many people employ this ear-eating method claiming that, since the rabbit can no longer hear, this method is more humane as the bunny never hears the next bite. The other, posterior method involves eating the feet, fanny and tail of the confection first. By consuming the feet first, gastronomes claim the bunny cannot escape and a leisurely repast can be enjoyed. Of course, there are those kinky mavericks who insist on crushing the bunny into small bite sized fragments or eating from the middle outwards, but, while these techniques might be fine at home, they are inadvisable while driving. For example, small bits of chocolate can be seemingly lost, only to turn up later melted to a compromising region of the seat of one's pants. So too, eating a chocolate bunny from the middle out can leave melted chocolate on one's chin and nose. While many in our culture are recognized with these distinct markings, they are not generally from chocolate nor largely considered socially appropriate. The term brown nose is seldom if ever associated with chocolate bunny eaters. So, this approach to confection consumption, with its attendant countenance, is to be avoided lest people get the wrong impression.

Chocolate Easter bunnies are a joy to eat and certainly, to me, the most festive part of the whole Easter season. While others enjoy jelly beans and creme eggs as they ponder the season of death and rebirth, I prefer resurrecting hollow Palmer bunnies from their cardboard warrens. The struggle of the hunt and the sensuous unwrapping of each little body makes the holiday a cheerful time for me; a time to reflect on just what the holiday has come to mean ... chocolate.