When most people think of hot chocolate now, big brand names like Swiss Miss come to mind, but those packages of delicious powder could not be more different from its origins. The first hot chocolate, originally called “xocolātl,” dates back to the Aztec civilization in what is now modern-day Mexico. They viewed xocolātl as a sacred drink used for religious ceremonies and only consumed by warriors or leaders (B. McKay and K. McKay). The hot chocolate found in grocery stores now is nowhere near a “drink of the Gods” with little about our current version resembling what the ancient civilizations consumed. Aztec, Mayan, and other Mesoamerican people added ground up flowers, chili peppers, and maize to the bitter cacao drink for an added flavor (B. McKay and K. McKay). This is a far cry from a styrofoam cup filled with hot water and powder. 

In my experience, the appeal of hot chocolate isn’t in the sweet, creamy aroma, rather it’s in the nostalgia saturated in every swallow. The first sip is the memory of football games with my grandparents and my cousins when we were kids. One of our parents would buy hot chocolate for us to warm our frigid hands. Between drinks, we would talk, laugh, and cheer for the family member on the field. The second sip is the elementary school snow days when my neighborhood friend would hang out at my house all day, playing in the snow for hours before retreating to the heated house to microwave milk and stir powdered hot chocolate into it. And the third sip is for all the new memories I am making, associated with the same drink I have had every year since I can remember. It’s sitting in a coffee shop with friends I only met a few weeks ago in the city I moved to only a few months ago, building a new home for myself away from the people who originally made hot chocolate so special. 

Although the classic hot chocolate brands lack the cultural element, the history of the drink has not been totally lost to time and big corporations. Ed Levine, a prominent food author and former writer for The New York Times, taste-tested hot chocolate from establishments across New York City. One place in Brooklyn put an international twist on the drink by combining “European richness with Mexican verve… using dark chocolate and cinnamon and ancho chilies” while another added some Italian flavor through “infused hazelnut and a dollop of whipped cream” (Levine). Through these adaptations, hot chocolate has branched beyond the confines of its original culture and been transformed by various countries, each putting a unique spin on the drink.

While I have tried ‘fancier’ hot chocolate, there is something special about the mediocre versions. I recently tried the hot chocolate at M36 Coffee Roasters while studying with some friends, and the drink was good even if it wasn’t the high-end versions Ed Levine found on the streets of New York or others may find in their grandma’s kitchens. I would argue that any cups of hot chocolate shared with family and friends are better just because they hold irreplaceable memories in the warm, chocolatey, and, sometimes, watered down taste.