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Hot Chocolate

hot chocolate

hot chocolate

The award season is in full swing. We are past Golden Globes, this weekend it’s time for SAG Awards, next month BAFTA’s and the Oscars…

And while the stars are doing their detox and starving themselves to look good on the Red Carpet, I like to watch it all under the blanket with hot chocolate/cocoa in hand. It’s delicious and really good for you.

Hot Chocolate:

1 1/2 cup oat or almond milk (I personally love Rude Health gluten free almond milk)

1 tsp cocoa butter

1 tsp almond or cashew butter

1 tbsp lucuma

2 tbsp cocoa

1 tbsp honey or agave syrup

1. On the low heat warm up 1 cup of oat milk with cocoa and almond butter. Stir until the butters dissolve.

2. Add to remaining cold 1/2 cup of milk lucuma and cocoa. Mix thoroughly with a spoon till it makes a paste.

3, When the cocoa and almond butter dissolves and milk is hot, add your cocoa and lucuma mixture, mix well. Add honey or agave syrup to sweeten it . Serve!

I know lucuma powder sounds weird to you, but it’s a great natural sweetener,makes hot chocolate thicker and what’s the most important – will give you radiant skin. Come on, you know you want to…


hot chocolate

hot chocolate

hot chocolate

hot chocolate


About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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