Apr 8, 2018 4 min read

There was an item on National Public Radio this week, showing how people might use up their stale Easter peeps to do an experiment to test the speed of light. I’m sure the experiment is a fine way to learn about the physics of light, but it is based in a faulty assumption.

That is, that stale Easter peeps are not edible and are therefore fair game for experimentation.

This is so, so wrong.

The stale little candy birdlets are my favorite thing about Easter. I reject them when fresh: they are too sweet and too sticky, and I hate the way the head resists when I try to bite it off. The fresh ones make my teeth hurt.

The stale ones, on the other hand, are the perfect combination of tart and chewy. An al dente peep is crunchy on the outside and toothy on the inside.

Knowing this, my mom always buys some peeps when the Easter candy first arrives in stores — shortly after the Christmas decorations have been taken down. (The one good thing about the premature retail holiday displays: you can buy marshmallow peeps early enough to let them go stale.)

My mom goes for the strange, sour flavors. Some years it’s watermelon or acid-green lime. Getting them to the right staleness takes some time. Three weeks atop the fridge is ideal, but last year, craving some hard chicks, I bought a packet a week before Easter and left the package open on the counter. They weren’t the perfect chewiness, but they were good enough to calm the craving.

The rest of the family thinks I’m weird about this (and about so, so many other things, where to begin). Growing up, there was a chocolate candy called Mallo Cups: like a peanut butter cup but with gooey marshmallow inside. They were my sister’s favorite, but I couldn’t stand the texture.

I’m not much for chocolate anyway. I don’t share the typical female desire for it. I’d rather have something fruity and chewy, like gummy bears or Sour Patch Kids. The chewiness makes those candies more than just something to eat, and elevates them to something more along the lines of a hobby. Maybe even a sport. The chewing becomes its own activity.

Which is why I’m currently rationing peeps. My mom brought a package of eight of them to Easter dinner last week. They are pink with black eyes and taste like cherry. They were the right staleness when I ate the first one, and they’re getting even better as they roost on top of the fridge. There are 4 of them left, and I’m allowing myself just one a day. This supply will last until next Wednesday.

Unless, of course, I decide to abandon my disciplined schedule and finish them off today. What fun that will be, biting off a head and munching it vigorously and then popping the rest of the body into my mouth.

So, the heck with science. I’m as interested in the speed of light as much as the next person, but I’m not about to sacrifice my Easter peeps. Those little birds are for eating. Anything else would be a waste.

Beth Dolinar is a writer, documentary producer and college professor. Her work has appeared in newspapers, magazines and on WQED-TV. Born and raised in southwestern Pennsylvania, Beth has degrees from Cal U and from Northwestern University. She and her family live in the Pittsburgh area. Her column appears twice a month in the Herald-Standard. Beth can be reached at bdolinar@aol.com