White Peppermint Hot Chocolate

The board met Monday. Three officers at a table, my file open in front of them like a book report about a person I used to be. They asked questions. I answered. It took forty minutes. The Purple Heart was noted. The shrapnel was noted. The PTSD was noted. The TBI was noted. Everything about me reduced to notations — things observed, documented, stamped. At the end the colonel said, "We'll have a determination within two weeks," and shook my hand, and I walked out into the November cold and stood in the parking lot and felt the specific nothing that comes after you've been weighed and measured and found wanting. Not wanting in the negative sense. Wanting in the sense of — they're going to let me go. I can feel it. The Army is done with me the way a machine is done with a part that doesn't fit anymore.

I should feel something. Grief for the career, maybe. Relief. Anger. I feel the four on the pain scale. I feel the parking lot under my boots. I feel November.

Dr. Mercer asked how it went. I said fine. She waited. I said, "They're going to discharge me." She said, "How does that feel?" I said, "Like standing in a parking lot." She wrote on her pad. I wonder what she writes. Probably not "standing in a parking lot." Probably something with more syllables and a diagnosis code.

Made corn chowder. Frozen corn — you can't get good fresh corn in November in Colorado, not for any money — a diced potato, an onion, bacon chopped and rendered in the bottom of the pot first so the fat becomes the foundation. Chicken broth, milk, salt, thyme if you have it. I had it. Let it simmer until the potato falls apart and thickens everything naturally, no flour needed, no cream needed if you're patient. The chowder was thick and plain and warm and I ate two bowls standing at the counter because the bench outside was too cold and the bunk was too small for the size of the feeling I was carrying. Not a big feeling. Just a wide one. The kind that needs a kitchen and a stove and something hot in a bowl to make it manageable.

Home by Christmas. Maybe. Probably. The ranch. The river. Dad's silence. Mom's biscuits. I can almost taste the biscuits from here. Almost is still a place I live. But the distance is shrinking.

The chowder carried me through that evening, but I keep coming back to the idea of warmth in its simplest form — something you can make in fifteen minutes, something that doesn’t require you to be okay while you make it. With Christmas getting closer and the ranch getting closer and something like relief finally starting to surface, this white peppermint hot chocolate has become the thing I make when I need the kitchen to do the feeling for me. It’s seasonal without being cheerful about it, and that’s exactly right.

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

Ingredients

2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 oz white chocolate, finely chopped (or 1/2 cup white chocolate chips)
1/4 tsp peppermint extract (start with less; adjust to taste)
1 pinch of salt
Whipped cream, for topping
2 tbsp crushed candy cane or peppermint candies, for garnish

Instructions

Warm the base. Combine the milk and heavy cream in a small saucepan over medium heat. Heat until steaming and just beginning to simmer at the edges, about 4–5 minutes. Do not let it boil.
Melt the chocolate. Reduce heat to low. Add the chopped white chocolate and whisk steadily until fully melted and the mixture is smooth with no lumps remaining, about 2–3 minutes.
Season and flavor. Add the peppermint extract and a pinch of salt. Whisk to combine. Taste carefully and add a drop more peppermint if you want a stronger bite, but go slowly — it intensifies fast.
Serve warm. Ladle into two mugs. Top with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of crushed candy cane. Drink it while it’s hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

White Peppermint Hot Chocolate — Something Warm When the Words Run Out