14 Popular Easter Candies, Ranked Worst To Best

Easter as a holiday has long had disputed dates. Major Christian sects have argued with each other about it, and the differences persist to this day. Eastern, or Greek, Orthodox followers still celebrate Easter (called Pascha, a word rooted in the Hebrew for Passover) at a different time than Protestants and Roman Catholics. But no matter the interpretation of faith, it seems candy is involved.

The concept dates back to 18th-century Germans, who contrived the idea of an Easter bunny delivering colorful eggs. Immigrants from Deutschland then took that notion with them to the U.S. The content of the metaphorical rabbit's basket soon evolved, growing from colorful eggs to include small gifts and eventually chocolate. Conventional thought is that these indulgences are tied to the breaking of Lenten fasts.

Today, the Easter candy economic machine is a mighty one, with stores stuffing their shelves with all manner of thematic sweetmeats as winter transitions to spring. About 1.5 billion Peeps are consumed every spring in the U.S., as well as a staggering 16 billion jelly beans, while 90 million or so chocolate bunnies are produced each season. I picked out 14 popular Easter candies from the shelves and ranked them from worst to best, in order to make some sense of this confectionery tornado. Wish me luck.

In my approach, newfangled Easter treats were mixed with classics, or takes on classics, in an attempt to get a full picture of the current state of Easter candy-dom. Some of the big names of the season had to be included, such as Cadbury, Russell Stover, Reese's, and Peeps.

But that left plenty of room for fresher takes like Sour Patch Kids Bunnies (were they actually different than non-bunny Sour Patch Kids?), Spongebob Squarepants Eggstra Sours (would a strong IP and wordplay equal snacking excellence?), and Hi-Chew Easter Fruit Chews with a mystery flavor (hopefully it wasn't teriyaki).

Each product was judged on taste and texture, of course, but also fun X factors and Easter aesthetics. Hey, a cute bunny has got to look like a cute bunny. Otherwise, nightmarish molting rabbits will haunt children's dreams — and perhaps mine. (Cue shivers.)

Party Puffs is known for its cake-like cotton candy offerings. Or are they cotton candy-like cake offerings? Probably more the former on technicality, but either way, it has proclaimed itself the internet's go-to cotton candy cake. (But then again, how many of those could there be?) Good thing Party Puffs also sells its cotton candy in slightly less overwhelming pouches.

You can get them unicorn-shaped or monster-shaped — which probably can be the basis for some kind of neurological personality test. It also makes Halloween, Christmas, and Valentine's Day versions. And, yes, as their appearance on this list suggests, they've got an Easter version too. Glossy packaging? Check. Cute, napping bunnies? Check. Even cuter Easter pun? Check. Oh, wait, stop the pleasantries: I just opened it. It's literally an amorphous pink glob of cotton candy.

Party Puffs Cotton Candy No Bunny Like You looks like the lint I remove from my dryer filter. And honestly, it doesn't taste much better (presumably). The strawberry-flavored one I picked up is just a sickly sweet, sugary fabric that made me practically wince through the few small bites I could get through. No way with this one.

Mickey Mouse. Superman. Bugs Bunny. Hello Kitty. SpongeBob SquarePants. Since SpongeBob's debut on Nickelodeon in 1999, the cheery, pineapple-dwelling yellow sea invertebrate has not only become a multi-billion-dollar revenue stream, but the character has reached a cultural status right alongside those aforementioned icons. Seeing him on the packaging alone brings an automatic hit of happy. But does the candy itself meet the moment?

I'm going to say no, it doesn't. The moment has blown it off, in fact. These things have the texture of tinned mints, à la Altoids, but instead come with a bland — but also slightly sour — flavoring that tastes almost medicinal.

Even though it only took a total of eight seconds to eat a single SpongeBob SquarePants Eggstra Sour, I am rueing that I'll never get that time back. What am I going to do with an entire tin of these now, besides look at SpongeBob when I'm in a down mood?

Hi-Chew's origins are Japanese, via Morinaga. The company didn't open its first candy-manufacturing facility on U.S. soil until 2015, in North Carolina. A year later, it was approved as astronaut food by JAXA, the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency. Back on Earth, Hi-Chew is now a staple on American store shelves, being one of Japan's true candy ambassadors to American sweet tooths. I've always loved Hi-Chew, with a tartness that doesn't overwhelm and a chewiness that kills just enough time to stave off further candy bingeing. So, what does their Easter offering have in store?

The package comes with four flavors: rainbow sherbet, strawberry lemonade, yuzu lime, and the special Easter mystery flavor. The rainbow sherbet was nicely aromatic, though the flavor was a bit muted. The yuzu lime was subtle all the way through — a bit too subtle. Strawberry lemonade had the most pronounced flavor and therefore the most enjoyable.

As for the mystery Easter flavor? Well, it's tough to tell. Some kind of dragonfruit, fruit punch mix maybe? Doesn't matter because it wasn't pleasant. Overall, this was an underwhelming candy experience and had little to offer on the aesthetic end. Hi-Chew Easter Fruit Chews are basically just pedestrian Hi-Chews.

The caramel egg has always been the other half of the Easter Cadbury duopoly on ovoid chocolates. Although the caramel-filled version was never a go-to for me (after all, it doesn't look like egg yolk), Cadbury caramel snacks are some of the most beloved confections around (although it is certainly the junior egg when it comes to sales).

I'm firmly in the majority here as far as preference, but it was time I gave the caramel egg a try again after all these years (and with a professional level of objectivity). After all, people change, tastes change, and it's best we all accept that to see things anew.

Actually, after one bite, no. No, I take all that back. Of course, it's exactly like I remember it, just a big gooey hit of caramel. And it was so sticky, I needed to scrub my fingertips with the bristly side of the sponge to get it off. If you love, love caramel (and I think you have to love, love it), then you may enjoy Cadbury Caramel Eggs. Otherwise, leave this in an Easter candy museum where it belongs.

Founded in Birmingham, England, in 1824 by John Cadbury — a grocer who sold cocoa and chocolate you could drink — Cadbury went from an Industrial Age confectionery innovation to a worldwide chocolate behemoth. It wasn't until 1988, when Hershey's got its hands on a Cadbury manufacturing license, that Americans saw what that British fuss was about.

Since then, Cadbury has become an Easter staple, famous to Gen X and millennials for its "Cadbury bunny tryout" commercials from the 1990s. For some, the Cadbury Creme Egg has always been something of an oddity, or even a source of knee-jerk repulsion. Not to me. I freaking love it. So, how do these miniature versions fare?

First off, I enjoy how the Cadbury Mini Creme Egg packaging mimics a regular carton of eggs. Why? I don't know, I just do. But something I could be much more definitive about: These babies don't quite compare to the larger original. Something about the size gives the filling a texture more like coconut meat rather than the yolky stretch you expect from the full-size eggs. A bit disappointed here.

Based on a 1970s Canadian candy called Mars Men, the original Sour Patch candies capitalized on the still-resonating space craze of the '60s by being shaped like Martians. In the 1980s, it was transformed into a different likeness, from a different craze: Cabbage Patch Kids. (Sour Patch likes its crazes.) This was the same decade that the Sour Patch Kids were introduced to the U.S. market.

Fast forward a few more decades, and we have this Easter SPK offering. And what exactly does it offer? Well, if you're looking for anatomical accuracy, these Sour Patches don't have it. The bunnies look more like unarticulated Moai from Easter Island (maybe intentional then?). As far as the taste and texture, it's exactly what you would expect from any Sour Patch Kid. In fact, if you took a regular Sour Patch Kid and just smushed it with your thumb a little, you would kind of get an Easter Sour Patch Kid. Good, but nothing new.

Proud to be an American heartland company, Russell Stover has been based in Kansas City since 1932. The manufacturer has since sold all kinds of chocolates of all kinds of makes, as well as the popular, folksy-looking Whitman's brand of confections. Naturally, Russell Stover has become one of the big names in Easter candy. Not to be outdone by Cadbury or anybody else, its chocolate eggs are ever-present come the season. This time I've gone in for the maple crème flavor — which I thought might be a good balance between adventurous and traditional.

Sadly, there was a problem from the get-go. The egg immediately broke apart when I opened the packaging, turning this from a handheld treat to a mayday bite straight off the unwrapping. The taste is really good, but like a corrupt government official, the integrity is lacking, and the filling is resin-level sticky.

If not for the delicious flavor, this would have a worse place on the list. Fortunately, that hint of maple does a lot of heavy lifting here.

Galerie is one of those low-key company names that prefers to let its brands and licensed products shine instead. The brands include The Jelly Bean Factory and Finders Keepers, but its licensed labels are formidable: Hershey's, Reese's, Froot Loops, and Cocoa Krispies; not to mention characters and marquee names like Disney, Bluey, Hello Kitty, Star Wars, Minions, Paw Patrol, and Hot Wheels.

So, what to make of this humble, cheap-looking candy necklace before me? For such a robustly rostered corporation, it seems so small and flimsy an offering. Like it was an afterthought. The packaging itself is a rudimentary plastic wrapping that looks sturdy enough to hold a straw.

As for the candy on the necklace, however, no complaints at all. In fact, they are welcomingly subtle with the sweetness, while the texture is snappy instead of gritty (a big plus). Also, if I saw a bohemian gal walking down the street with this around her neck, I wouldn't think it was edible. For what that's worth. But all in all, a pleasant surprise. I like.

Peeps has never been afraid to extend its humble little Easter marshmallow brand into sometimes surprising places. There's been Peeps cereal, coffee creamer, children's books, and playsets — not to mention some of the more outside-the-box flavorings of recent years, such as root beer, pancakes and syrup, and blue raspberry Peeps.

With that in mind, an Easter foray into lollipop rings is one of Peeps' least radical product moves. I'm okay with semi-conventional here. Now to see if I'm okay with the candy itself.

To be honest, Peeps make for a pretty good lollipop. The marshmallow flavoring mentioned on the packaging is exactly as advertised. It's prominent, aromatic, and gives you carnival vibes as if it were cotton candy. It's a treat that takes a journey, and what an enchanting journey it turned out to be.

Originally called Giants, Whoppers brought the popular malted milk ball candy — a concept popularized in the U.K. — to stores in 1939. Upon the name change, the candy took off and became a staple sweet, with Hershey's stepping in and buying the rights to the candy in 1996.

When it comes to the Whoppers Robin Egg Minis, the packaging is a pain to open. I know I'm a terrible package opener, but the tape wrapping around the top has no clear way of becoming unstuck. I can see an impatient person just boring a hole in the side for access (no comment on whether that's what I did here).

The candy itself, on the other hand, is very good indeed. The sugary casing surprisingly jives well with the milk ball middle. Whoppers have always been an acquired taste. Or really, an acquired texture. There's an almost chalkiness to the milk ball, a scrapey-ness that you either love or that gives you goosebumps of revulsion. You'd think this trait would extend to Whoppers Robin Egg Minis, too, but the tiny size tempers it and makes it very enjoyable. Think I'll have another.

Part of the trifecta of Cadbury Easter candies on this list, Cadbury Mini Eggs are as much a mainstay as the other two. Seen in many a bowl on many an end table during Easter-time, they've also been used as a delectable ingredient for homemade baked goods. The mini-eggs have also become a source of inspiration for some glorious TikTok tomfoolery, such as putting them in an air fryer.

For this review, let's just keep it simple with these non-air-fried little milk chocolate fellas. The best way to see how they stand on their own after all these years. And stand they do. The chocolate in the middle is rich and robust — which is exactly what you'd expect from Cadbury. It's a ton of sweet satisfaction in such a small package. This is what has made Cadbury Mini Eggs so enduring as an Easter treat. And now that I know, I might just try them in the air fryer.

Harry Burnett Reese — otherwise known as H.B. — was the originator of the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. This would be the confection upon which an entire empire was built. Reese was a dairy farmer for one Milton S. Hershey, and the latter's chocolate was used to make the peanut cups (originally called "penny cups"). Reese's company would eventually merge with Hershey in 1963, with the peanut butter eggs launching nationwide in 1967 after a test run in Pennsylvania. The eggs became an instant Easter classic, but how do they hold up today?

Firstly, I went for the king-size. Because life is short and the Easter season is even shorter. After the first bite, this immediately went to the upper half of the list. It's just so timeless. It's like if The Birth of Venus were a chocolate egg. The marriage between the peanut butter and milk chocolate is expert, of course. And if you're a peanut butter lover (which I am), Reese's is not scared to load it in there. But beware, the king size is practically a meal in itself. You might even need a fork and a knife. Hey, no judgment here.

Don't let the beady, cutesy little eyes staring through the cellophane fool you. These marshmallow characters are a seasonal sales juggernaut. Manufactured by the Just Born candy company (the same folks that make Hot Tamales and Mike & Ikes), Peeps are an inescapable, delicious Easter delight — or abomination, depending on who you talk to.

Which side of that debate have I fallen on in the past? Sorry to say it's closer to the latter than the former — though I can't say I ever outright hated them. But it's been quite a while since I partook, and time is a good palate cleanser, because, lo and behold, I think my feelings toward Peeps have changed.

What I appreciate now is the silky texture combined with the understated sweetness of the crystallized coating. It's a simple, masterful snack that looks as charming as it tastes. For some, this will reinforce what they already love about Peeps. For those on the opposite end of the spectrum, I suggest you give it another try. Viva, Peeps?

The history is pretty well known at this point, but Reese's Pieces as a product wasn't exactly thriving until a certain alien by the name of E.T. snacked on them in Steven Spielberg's 1982 mega-blockbuster. Originally, it was supposed to be M&M's enjoyed (and cross-promoted) by the beloved extra-terrestrial. It was only after that fell through and a Universal exec's young son suggested Reese's Pieces instead — a candy the man had never heard of — that the fortunes of the sugar-coated peanut butter treat changed forever.

So, what about its Easter variation? Is it as much of a Hollywood showstopper as the original? Short answer: yes. Long answer: yessiree, Bob. Coming in a convenient little milk carton to save for later (which you may not actually be doing), the candy is a delight.

It has the wonderful, instantly recognizable, creamy peanut butter mini-hit of a Reese's Pieces, while offering a slightly more substantial snacking experience thanks to the size of the eggs. Oh, these are good. These are very, very good. E.T. should not be needed to spread the word of this delicious product.