I am somewhat of a hot chocolate maven. I normally consume this winter-wonderful drink through powdered packages and hot water, and I know my way around the myriad packages in my local grocery aisle. You could say I am a bona fide Swiss Mistress.
As I was scrolling through the internet one day, I came across The Grinch Hot Chocolate Bomb from Williams Sonoma. I like to avoid cooking at all costs, and I normally do not patronize stores like WS (I’m assuming this is what kitchen people call it), but I couldn’t resist this quirky little drink that is probably also a children’s activity. The picture on the WS website featured the idyllic outcome of The Grinch Hot Chocolate Bomb. “Oh, I’ve got to try this,” I murmured to my screen. I hit “add to cart” and waited in anticipation for three to five days.
I unboxed my new treasure and enthusiastically inspected the packaging. The bomb itself is a tennis ball-sized head of the Grinch (and the same hue), taunting you with his cheeky eyes and about 7 different artificial colors. It boasts a filling of marshmallows that will float like clouds to the top of your mug. Oh, we’re in for a magical time!
I was leery about a couple of things, though. Upon closer reading, I discovered it is made of white chocolate. I do not care for this category of chocolate. Secondly, there are no quantity directives. It plainly instructs you to “place into hot milk.” Am I supposed to just wing it with my one and only The Grinch Hot Chocolate Bomb from Williams Sonoma? I need directions, quantity, something I can confidently place in a measuring cup and then mug to become “hot milk.” I mentioned cooking wasn’t my thing, no?
It was bomb time. I was nervous yet optimistic about how this would turn out. Would there be fizz? A cool bomb sound? I obviously cleared my counter and my calendar. Something labeled “bomb” couldn’t be restricted by time or space.
I gingerly placed the Grinch’s head into my hot milk. And then, nothing. “I thought it would be more bomby,” I uttered to no one. I had to poke it for half a minute before anything happened. I essentially had to milkboard the Grinch by holding his head under the liquid until he started to dissolve. Luckily, that guy was a dick for most of the story because I felt a little bad at first. My thoughts of guilt quickly began to dissipate, because then, too, did the Grinch head!
This was not extraordinary or cool in any capacity. There were no explosive sounds, and I had to constantly jab and stir this decrepit mass of white chocolate to release the marshmallows. I kept going. I’m nothing if not a fighter when it comes to dessert-adjacent beverages. I finally got the hot chocolate to a consistency I found tolerable, so I took a sip. I yelped. Just as I feared, it was far too sweet. Williams Sonoma definitely should have told me how much milk to use. I added some water and put it back in the microwave for a spell. All right, this was better. Sickeningly sweet, but better. Though on the walls of my mug were still masses of Grinch head.
Left to its own devices, a sort of film begins to form over the top. Sure, I wasn’t drinking it very fast/not at all, but a solidified blear? A third of a cup is quite enough.
So here I sit with two-thirds of my hot–nay-tepid–chocolate remaining. Left unconsumed, it looks as if the Grinch was placed in a wood chipper and then added to milk. It turns out the Grinch stole my hopes about this drink being good, just like he did Christmas.
In the future, I will be perfectly content with my beloved powdered packages of hot chocolate. I know what I’m getting (you are told precisely how much liquid to add), and they are downright delicious. I likely will not try The Grinch Hot Chocolate Bomb from Williams Sonoma again, but I’m sure someone out there will relish in this novel sweet treat. Maybe the narrator from the song? He seems like he would enjoy drowning the Grinch’s face in hot milk.
