A few years ago, I read about a woman in the south of France who was celebrating her 105th birthday. When asked what habits she attributed her long life to she replied that she ate a piece of chocolate everyday. Perhaps the antioxidant properties of dark chocolate had a direct effect on her physical well-being. I am guessing that the sheer pleasure derived from enjoying something delicious everyday gave her the will to live on and on and on. While I may not want to live to be 105 years old, I do make a habit of having something chocolate every day for the great pleasure it gives me. Now that the weather has turned colder my chocolate of choice is a cup of thick, rich, dark hot chocolate. Served mid morning or late afternoon in a lovely china cup and saucer. Sometimes I toast a sweet French baguette to dip into the thick, pudding-like drink.
This recipe is for the hot chocolate of tearooms in Paris on cold winter afternoons, the kind of hot chocolate that a spoon stands up in. Some might even call it pudding. The first time I experienced the sublime pleasure of this version of hot chocolate was at Angelina in the first arrondisement. It had been raining all day and Paris was the grayest place this California girl had ever seen. As I was wandering down the rue de Rivoli, trying to figure out how it was possible to get so depressed in such an amazing city, I remembered the list of ‘tearooms’ that an acquaintance had given me. Her only note next to the entry for Angelina was ‘hot chocolate’. Sounded good to me. I was ushered into a very proper looking dining room, filled with well-dressed ladies sipping hot chocolate and nibbling on lovely French patisserie. The hot chocolate arrived in a white porcelain ‘hot chocolate’ pot with a small bowl of whipped heavy cream on the side. And a pitcher of water. One sip and I knew that this was the cure for my blues.
