The average hot chocolate you get in the UK is pretty uninspiring. I mean, sure, it has a chocolate taste and is warmly comforting, but its lacklustre nature is undeniable, and it doesn’t matter how much whipped cream or marshmallows are piled on top.
I’m always in search of pure, intense hot chocolate. The kind you get if you make it yourself at home with real chocolate and milk (or even, eep, cream).
I’ve had a killer one in the renowned Angelina in Paris*; an excellent shot in Chocolat Chocolat, Cambridge; a dark and delicious 70% courtesy of Mink, Vancouver; and what I swear was just a cup of melted chocolate down in Brighton’s Bar Du Chocolat. However a particularly fond memory comes from a brief visit to Barcelona and assorted stops for chocolate and churros.
