Chocolate In A Cup
I thank whoever gave me a cup of hot chocolate on my user info page. You must know something about my winter traditions to know that I survive on hot chocolate.
It’s a family tradition to make our own hot chocolate mix. My mom has done this for my entire memory, and I missed it so much when I moved away to college that I began to do it myself. Every year, it comes out a little different. There’s a little more powdered milk than all the other ingredients, there’s a little more creamer than the recipe calls for, or, for some inexplicable reason, it tastes slightly minty.
I always make a mess when mixing all this stuff together. There’s powder on my clothes, on the floor, all over the table, and a fine silt in all the mixing bowls when all is settled into their respectable containers. It really should be that way; it feels more chaotic, more joyful, more spontaneous.
Most of the stuff goes into a tin. My mom’s got this funny collection of tins that she keeps all her hot chocolate mix in. There’s Snoopy and his gang, all doing the flurry dance, and old wintery scenes and tins covered with images of long-eaten cookies. She’s also got a huge amount of mugs. My favorites were always the ones that were unusually shaped; it mattered little that they had the Philmont insignia on them. Most of them are dusty and never used because we all have our favorites.
I have many a memory of morning table-gatherings with nothing for breakfast but liquid chocolate and homemade cinnamon rolls. I’m working on my own collections of tins and mugs.