One of the most famous mantras uttered by Caribbean matriarchs everywhere has to do with extolling the virtues of drinking a warm cup of something in the A.M. "You must break that gas in yuh stomach, gyul," is without question in my top 5 of most echoed phrases heard ad infinitum since childhood.

But I'm not a tea sippin'-kinda broad.

So I fall into "grab-whatever's-closest-in-the-fridge" mode rather than attempting to decipher the difference between green, black or chamomile, much to the chagrin of Mommie Dearest. But it's been colder than a witch's tit lately and I've fallen prey to a sweet treat specifically marketed to chase the arctic chill away.

Although they rival only Duane Reade for pavement supremacy and location convenience, I have to admit that Dunkin' Donuts never really did it for me. Sure, those fruity coolattas are a quick fix during the dog days of summer, but who's checking for that now? On average, I find their coffee mediocre and their donuts staler than the produce section at C-Town. But their white hot chocolate is on some next level shit. For those old enough to reminisce with me, remember Nestle's Alpine White bars? After becoming an endangered species (and I was left to hum the "sweet dreams you can't resist" hook when watching Dirty Dancing on VHS in memoriam), I was always on the hunt for an alternative. It only took almost 20 years, but be still my saccharine addicted heart. The taste of DD's winter picker-upper perfectly captures the taste of yesteryear melted into a Styrofoam cup. So rich, so creamy, so calorie-laden, so affordable, so addictive. Cheating on Starbucks never felt so good.

Labels: Dunkin' Donuts, guilty pleasure, white hot chocolate