Hot Cocoa Bomb Cups
I remember the small stove humming on cold afternoons, the kettle singing as children hung their wool scarves on the peg. I would hold a warm spoon to my lips …
I remember the small stove humming on cold afternoons, the kettle singing as children hung their wool scarves on the peg. I would hold a warm spoon to my lips …
I can feel the steam before I lift the lid. The kitchen smells of cocoa and a quiet kind of sweetness that takes me back to my grandmother’s tiny stove, …
When I lift the spoon from a steaming mug of Pink Hot Chocolate, the room feels like it did when I was small: sunlight soft on the table, the smell …
I remember a winter evening when the sky turned the color of ink and my mother lit the small lamp above the stove. The kitchen smelled of butter and brown …
Warm steam curls from the rim of the mug like a memory being remembered. The first breath brings warm spice, dark cocoa, and a whisper of molasses that feels like …