Paris Hot Chocolate: My Cozy, Messy Home Recipe Guide

Why This Paris Hot Chocolate Is Kind of My Thing

Picture this: It’s raining outside, my socks absolutely do not match, and somehow every pot in the kitchen is dirty except one. That’s when I crave the thick, almost pudding-like hot chocolate they make in Paris cafes—the sort that’s halfway between a drink and a dessert. I first tried to recreate it after a trip to Paris with my friend Colette; we got completely lost on the Metro, but that’s another story. Anyway, after like three attempts (and a saucepan disaster I’m still scraping off the stove), I finally got it to taste a little bit like that magic mug from Angelina’s. It’s rich, it’s cozy, and it forgives you for your messy life.

Why You’ll Love Making This (Seriously)

I make this when it’s grey out, or after certain people (naming no names, but you know who you are) have demolished all the biscuits in the house and I need something comforting. My sister once hid a cup of this in the fridge overnight and claimed it tastes even better cold (she’s not wrong, but it’s a little strange?) And honestly, sometimes I just need an excuse to use up that fancy chocolate I bought, fully intending to give away as a gift. This hot chocolate is basically a warm hug; plus if you mess it up, it still tastes kind of impossibly good—so forgiving for those of us who, let’s say, multitask a bit too much.

What You’ll Need (and What I Sometimes Swap In)

• 2 cups whole milk — Skim if that’s all you’ve got, but it’s less creamy (I sometimes add a splash of cream when I want to impress myself)
• 100g dark chocolate (70% or so) — My grandmother swore by Lindt, but I’ll just say whatever is on sale works too. Chopped up, or broken in pieces if you’re lazy like me.
• 2 tablespoons sugar — Demerara if you have it; regular white will do the trick. Or honey, but then it’s kind of a different beast.
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract — Or honestly, I’ve skipped this and didn’t even notice.
• A pinch of salt — Trust me, it makes a difference. Or don’t trust me, up to you.
• Optional: 2 tablespoons heavy cream (for extra decadence, especially if you’re feeling a bit fancy)

Let’s Get Into the (Not-So-Precise) Directions

1. Pour the milk (and cream, if using) into your smallest saucepan. Or, in my case, the only clean one. Heat it gently over medium low until you see little bubbles forming at the edge—don’t let it go full boil, unless you like cleaning up boiled-over milk (spoiler: it stinks).
2. Add your chopped chocolate and the sugar. Stir it in with a whisk or even a fork; just don’t walk away at this point—chocolate burns if you so much as check your texts. I’ve learned the hard way.
3. Whisk patiently as the chocolate melts. It’ll look a bit separated or grainy at first (don’t stress, it comes together). Give it a taste now if you can’t resist—though it’ll be hot as blazes, so careful.
4. Once smooth and shiny, stir in that splash of vanilla and a pinch of salt. Whisk a bit more—five seconds is plenty, unless you like your arm workout in the kitchen.
5. Pour into two mugs (or one big one if you don’t like sharing). Top with whipped cream or nothing at all—your call.

Notes: Stuff I Found Out the Hard Way

• If your chocolate seizes or looks weird, just whisk harder and say a little prayer. Actually, adding a tablespoon of warm milk usually fixes it.
• I tried this once with oat milk—honestly, not awful, but it got a bit thin. Maybe add extra chocolate if going that route.
• Sitting down is recommended, I once spilled some trying to drink it standing up (don’t ask).

Variations I’ve Tried (Some Good, Some Odd)

• Spiced: A pinch of cinnamon, or a dash of cayenne if you want a cheeky kick. Kids in my house call this the “grown-up batch.”
• Mocha: Scoop in a little instant coffee; I thought I ruined it the first time, but now I like it.
• Irish Cream: Pour in a splash—your secret, not mine.
• Failed experiment: Once tried with white chocolate. Tasted like very sweet milk. Wouldn’t repeat, but you might like it—people are weird.

If You Don’t Have Every Tool…

I use a tiny whisk I got form a sale bin, but a fork does the trick fine. And if you don’t have a saucepan, you can use the microwave in a big glass jug—just zap the milk carefully, 30 seconds at a time, then stir in the chocolate. Not fancy, works in a pinch.

How to Keep Leftovers (But Seriously?)

If you’re some sort of superhero and manage to have leftovers, pour the rest in a jar or mug and stash it in the fridge with a lid. It thickens as it cools—almost like a pudding. Reheat gently or just eat with a spoon. Although, honestly, in my house it never lasts a day; I usually find an empty mug and a mysterious sticky spoon in the sink by midnight.

Serving: My Favourite Way

We keep it dead simple—just mugs, maybe a squirt of whipped cream on the top if you can bother. If it’s someone’s birthday (or we’re pretending it is), I’ll grate a little chocolate on top. I usually make a batch for movie night and we squabble over who gets the last drops. Oh, and I saw someone serve it with a baguette once—not my style but hey, when in Paris?

Pro Tips… Learned the Hard Way

• I once tried to use chocolate chips. Not the worst, but they don’t melt so nicely. Chopping up a proper bar is worth it.
• Don’t rush the melting bit—if you crank up the heat, it’ll scorch. I did that once because “I was in a hurry.” Regret.
• Actually, I find a big mug keeps it hot longer than the fancy teacups, just saying.
• If you want a second opinion on technique, Serious Eats has a good guide—though I think this one’s less fussy.

FAQs: What People (and My Nosy Cousin) Have Asked Me

• Is this Paris Hot Chocolate really that different? Kinda, yeah—it’s super thick, almost like a sauce; nothing like the powder stuff, trust me.
• Can I use milk chocolate? Sure, just cut the sugar way down, otherwise you’ve got candy soup! (Unless you love sweet, go wild.)
• What if I don’t have a whisk? Fork works. Or shake it in a jar with a tight lid (not as fun but, you know, science).
• Can you make this vegan? Yep, use a plant milk, dark vegan chocolate, and skip the cream. I did once with coconut milk—pleasant, actually!
• Do you really need ‘fancy’ chocolate? I mean, it’s nice, but any decent dark stuff will do. I’ve made this with supermarket basics and nobody complained.
• Is Paris Hot Chocolate supposed to be pudding-thick? Sort of! If it gets too thick, just whisk in a splash more milk until it’s how you like.

Now, while you’re stirring and waiting for things to melt, you could read up on the origins of hot chocolate—sometimes I do this just to feel a bit more continental. Or just daydream about Paris. Up to you.