“My feet are frozen!” I wail as I rub my numb hands together and jump up and down like a deranged chicken. It's a chilly 28 degrees in the ville de lumiere and my family and I have been waiting in line for 30 minutes in front of the famous Maison Angelina. In the garden across the street, the bare trees are stark against the gray sky. The wide white boulevards are abandoned and I can hear the icy wind whistling between the sculptures that cover the green lawn. The top of one of the iconic glass pyramids peeks over the ornate walls of the Louvre. Like every other building in Paris, the maison  in front of us is magnificent with its arched promenade and wrought-iron balconies. The Gothic spires, arches and stained glass of Notre Dame and the majestic columns, friezes, and opulent gold statues of the Palais Garnier decorate France's capital city. But Angelina, unlike other well-known monuments, is not famous for its architecture. Angelina is world-renowned for its decadent chocolat chaud.

We slowly inch closer and closer to the gilded doors. On the other side of the glass the black and white tile floor shines and waiters dressed in black race around with trays of elaborate confections.

“I'm hungry!” my sister whines.
“Me too!” adds my brother.

After what feels like an eternity, we reach the doors. As I pull the handle, I'm hit with a blast of warm air, fragrant with the scent of cocoa and warm croissants. The front room of Angelina is paradise for a food lover like me. To my right, a glass display case holds row after row of dainty sweets. An army of delicate macarons in blush pink, mint green, and cream are lined up like  soldiers waiting for battle. Fruit tarts, chocolate gateau, cream-filled eclairs, and pastries I could have never imagined wait tantalizingly behind the spotless glass. To my left, bottles of the famous hot chocolate are stacked on seemingly endless shelves, along with every variety of tea imaginable and chocolate truffles as beautiful as any work of art in the museum across the street. 

The hostess leads us to a table in the quiet back room, in front of a beautiful mural depicting a river scene. Evergreen boughs with sparkling gold ornaments adorn the doorways. After a careful inspection of the menu, I decide to go with the traditional petit dejeuner and of course, a cup of hot chocolate. I smell the rich sweetness wafting from the tables around us and my hunger is almost unbearable.

“Did you know that hot chocolate first came from ancient civilizations in Central America?” my mom asked.
“That's right,” my dad added. “Back then, only the wealthy could drink hot chocolate. Emperors drank it as a symbol of power and warriors drank hot chocolate before battle to give them strength.” My sister and brother giggled at the thought of an ancient soldier fueling for a fight with a mug of sugary hot chocolate.

Before long, our waiter arrives, his hands full of warm bread and croissants and bowls of fresh fruit. He sets down his bounty, and my family pounces like a pack of lions swarming a kill, but I'm waiting for the real star of the show. The waiter returns, holding five porcelain mugs with Angelina inscribed on the sides with gold calligraphy. He sets a mug down in front of me. He pours a stream of velvety liquid from the pitcher he holds. The dark, silky lusciousness of the hot chocolate is vibrant against the white china. The fragrant steam overwhelms my nose with a rich scent of cocoa. Our server places a tiny pot with a snowy mountain of whipped cream next to my cup and leaves, wishing us bon appetit.

I lift my mug to my lips and take a small sip. The hot chocolate is thick and silky. It's the perfect balance of bitterness and sweet. It's as if someone has melted a bar of my favorite dark chocolate and served it in a mug.
“This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had!” I exclaim to the table. My family nod their heads in agreement, unable to tear themselves from the magical beverage.

The rest of our meal is superb as well. The croissants are flaky, buttery, and melt on my tongue. The crusty French bread is perfect with a dollop of chestnut cream or red apricot jam. But the most memorable treat is the smooth, creamy, extremely chocolatey hot chocolate. Every time I drink hot chocolate, I'm reminded of that morning in Paris, the walk through the gardens of the Louvre, the elegant facade of Angelina, and the most delicious hot chocolate in the world. Just like Paris itself, hot chocolate has a rich and complex history.