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Vegan Chocolate Chocolate Chip Coffee — The Warmth Rosa Left Behind

Christmas 2018. The same table. Different weights in the room this year — Danny more fragile than last December, the hospital visit in November still present in how he moves and how Terry watches him. But present. Here. At the table eating tamales and posole and grape dumplings and looking at Kai and Luna with that particular quality of attention that is, if I am going to be honest about it, the attention of a man who is looking at things he wants to hold in his memory.

I brought the six dozen tamales. Same recipe, sixth year. Terry made posole. Hannah made Mexican hot chocolate, Rosa's recipe — she has been making it every Christmas since Rosa died and she does it with the precision of a woman who learned it from the source and intends to keep the source alive in the doing. Lily made a traditional Cherokee corn drink, a sofkee she had learned from the elders, which she set next to the hot chocolate so there were two drinks at the Christmas table, one Cherokee and one Mexican, both belonging to this family, side by side the way they always have been.

Caleb was there and he brought cookies. Not made-from-scratch cookies — he brought the kind from the grocery store with the colored icing, which made Kai immediately very interested in Caleb and the cookies. They sat together on the couch eating iced cookies and watching television while the adults finished cleaning up, and Caleb put his arm around Kai and talked to him about something I could not hear, and Kai laughed, and Caleb laughed, and whatever that was — that specific uncle-and-nephew moment on the couch with the grocery store cookies — that was as good as anything else at that table.

2018. Danny alive. Caleb sober and dancing. The tamales are Rosa's recipe in my hands. The sofkee is next to the hot chocolate. Lily knows the language. Kai knows the word for wild onion. Luna says wado. That is the year. That is what it adds up to.

I don’t make Rosa’s hot chocolate — that belongs to Hannah, and I would not presume to touch it. But that Christmas table, with two warm drinks side by side and Danny watching the kids with that particular kind of attention, put something in me that still reaches for chocolate and warmth when December comes. This vegan chocolate chocolate chip coffee is what I make in my own kitchen when I need to feel that fullness again — the way the room smelled, the way two traditions sat next to each other without competing, the way a cup of something warm can hold an entire year inside it.

Vegan Chocolate Chocolate Chip Coffee

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

  • 2 cups brewed strong coffee or espresso
  • 1 1/2 cups unsweetened oat milk (or other plant-based milk)
  • 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 2 tablespoons mini vegan chocolate chips, plus more for topping
  • 2 tablespoons maple syrup, or to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
  • Pinch of sea salt
  • Vegan whipped cream, optional for serving

Instructions

  1. Warm the milk. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, warm the oat milk until it just begins to steam. Do not boil.
  2. Whisk in the chocolate. Add the cocoa powder, chocolate chips, maple syrup, cinnamon, and sea salt to the warm milk. Whisk continuously until the chocolate chips are fully melted and the mixture is smooth and glossy, about 3—4 minutes.
  3. Add vanilla and coffee. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract. Pour the brewed coffee into two mugs, then add the chocolate milk mixture and stir gently to combine.
  4. Finish and serve. Top each mug with vegan whipped cream if using and a pinch of extra chocolate chips. Serve immediately while hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 115mg

Jesse Whitehawk
About the cook who shared this
Jesse Whitehawk
Week 114 of Jesse’s 30-year story · Tulsa, Oklahoma
Jesse is a thirty-nine-year-old welder, a Cherokee Nation citizen, and a married dad of three in Tulsa who cooks over open fire because that's how his grandpa Charlie did it and his grandpa's grandpa did it before him. His food draws from Cherokee tradition, Mexican heritage from his mother's side, and Oklahoma BBQ culture. He forages wild onions every spring and makes grape dumplings in the fall, and he considers both acts of cultural survival.

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