Pretty pastel candy coating, chocolatey goodness and a satisfying chewiness: is there any form of confectionary with more to recommend it than the Speckled Egg? Produced by Gauteng-based confectioners, Mister Sweet, they first graced our shelves in 2002. Since then, they’ve grown something of a cult following. South African expats are even able to buy the sweets online in Australia, the UK and the US for a small fortune.

The Eat Out team itself is far from immune to their pastel-coloured charms. Our own infatuation with Speckled Eggs began a little over two years ago, when one of our team began purchasing bags of them for office snacks. The love spread quickly through our team, but was only cemented when a much-beloved intern left us a jar of bite-sized candy eggs upon her departure. Since then, we’ve leant on the Speckled Egg jar for support in times of deadline, celebrated new milestones with them and even, in moments of inspiration, baked them into cookies.

Could it be that Speckled Eggs are the greatest sweets, like, ever? And what is it that makes Speckled Eggs so incredibly addictive?

There’s little to be found online as to the origins and applications of Speckled Eggs. Americans and Pinterest users go to great lengths, it seems, to create Speckled Egg-themed cakes, Easter eggs, and other confectionery, but it seems that the candy itself is a purely South African weakness. “I don’t get Speckled Eggs,” admits Woolworths TASTE contributor and Brit expat Harry Philips, confirming my suspicions. “It’s the chocolate-jelly combination,” he explains. After holding a brief funeral for our colleague Harry, now sadly dead to us, I quiz my fellow team members for their input.

Sound

“It’s the sound!” says copy editor Linda with wide eyes. Since it’s unlikely that most readers will have a dedicated Speckled Egg jar – they probably eat them out of a bag, like common cave-people – I should explain: when pouring the egg candy out of a glass jar, they make a musical tinkling sound. Could it be the sound of the Speckled Egg jar that’s responsible for their viral appeal?

Melodically, I’ll concede, it’s pretty simple. But then, as one Spanish study suggests, our music has been becoming progressively simpler since the 1950s. Take Carly Rae Jepson’s Call me Maybe for instance: one of the most successful viral songs of the past decade consists of four simple chords, with thoroughly basic transitions between them. Perhaps our desire for Speckled Eggs when hearing their sweet sound is a simple Pavlovian response.

Shape

“Maybe it’s because they roll, and you can make waterfalls of them at Food Lovers Market,” suggests editorial assistant Kelly, referring to those transparent towers of sweets that you collect in bags and pay for by weight. In my opinion, these gravity-fed self-service devices have a lot to answer for. My lack of agility with the measuring lever, combined with my refusal to put overflowing Speckled Eggs back into the tube, have often resulted in me purchasing R40-worth of candy-coated goodness in one shot. But Kelly has a point: they do make such a jolly rumble as they come tumbling down into the bag.

Aroma

“What about the smell?” asks Linda. Our resident nose, she has an uncanny ability to sniff out herbs in a bouillabaisse, fragrances on passing strangers, and guavas, which she detests, languishing in a colleague’s lunchbox, at twenty paces. Speckled Eggs, according to Linda, smell powdery and slightly perfumed. To me, and my less well-educated nose, they smell pretty much like a unicorn would.

Texture

My chief joy, when it comes to Speckled Eggs, is their texture. Eating a Speckled Egg is essentially a three-stage process: the crispy crack of the candy shell, the soft and melty chocolate inside, and the satisfyingly chewy jelly innards. As Jamie Oliver has outlined in Jamie’s 30-minute meals, the key to building a great meal is combining a range of textures. The principle is basically the same here: a smorgasbord of textures to keep the mouth interested and the teeth and tongue engaged. Essentially, what the Speckled Eggs creators have done is make chocolate chewy, thus increasing the dwell time in the mouth, and engaging more interaction with the palate.

Versatility

“Just think of all the things you can make with them,” editor-in-chief Anelde points out, as if picturing a vast array of recipes in which Speckled Eggs form a crucial component. I run through the classics in my head: Speckled Eggs and bacon, scrambled Speckled Eggs on toast, Speckled Eggs Benedict… but remain sceptical. “I’ll bake a batch of Speckled Egg cookies,” volunteers Linda. The next morning we’re greeted with a beatific sight: two-dozen buttery cookies, topped with bright Speckled Eggs, oozing goo. They faintly resemble characters from Angry Birds, I observe. They are also so delicious they should be illegal. “Imagine Speckled Egg brownies!” declares account director Claire, in a moment of uncharacteristic culinary inspiration. I would make some, but I’m fairly sure it would cause some sort of cosmic trauma.

Despite my extensive research, and grilling of my panellists, I still feel I’ve yet to discover the secret to the appeal of Speckled Eggs.

“Investigative journalism!” demands Anelde, as I redouble my efforts to extract the secret from Mister Sweet themselves. After several phone calls and emails, I manage to pin down Kate Crawford, marketing manager for Mister Sweet. Perhaps she can tell me how they’re made, and why they’re so incredibly delicious?

“We have figured out a way that if you feed chickens jelly sweets, they will lay speckled eggs,” Kate explains. “In special pastel colours too.” I enquire as to the origin of the speckles. “Well that’s how the chickens lay them – we just bag them and dispatch them!”

Amazed, I report the results of my findings back to the team. “Ah, it’s as we always suspected,” nods Anelde sagely. “They are magic.”

The writer of this piece would like to point out that the makers of Speckled Eggs, Mister Sweet, have in no way paid for this article. In fact, she hasn’t so much as ingested a single Speckled Egg bribe – though she may have eaten quite a few she purchased herself in the interests of thorough research.