New York, NYHot Chocolate

Walk the length of the Soho boutique, which The Infatuation says looks like The Nutcracker blew up inside a shop, and the cafe is at the back. The drinking chocolate is thick, velvety and almost buttery, served in a small cup. Time Out reports it is made with cacao shavings rather than powder and comes as Aztec dark, milk hazelnut, spiced or white. Order the Aztec dark. The counter often hands out a free sample if you ask nicely.

The first sip is meant to confuse you. The Infatuation reports this East Village bakery tops its hot chocolate with a layer of vanilla bean custard, thicker than whipped cream and cold against the drink, so what you meet first is wobbly rather than hot. Underneath sits a rich mix of milk and heavy cream infused with Valrhona and a dab of cinnamon. Order it with one of the baked potato buns or the reimagined Cosmic Brownies.

An all-day Italian bar on the corner of Grove and Seventh Avenue South where the hot chocolate reads notably thick, smooth and pillowy in The Infatuation's account. Time Out calls it rich enough to evoke a chocolate fountain and notes it arrives under a dollop of slow-melting whipped panna. Order it on a weekend morning and drink it on the sidewalk patio, which is what The Infatuation recommends, then stay for the people watching along Seventh Avenue.

A compact Tribeca market stocked with Hudson Valley produce and breakfast sandwiches on pain de mie, where The Infatuation suggests treating the ten dollar hot chocolate as a meal rather than a drink. It arrives rich, sweet and thick as lobster bisque in a small soup container, with a spoon on the side. Order it that way and use the spoon on the torched marshmallows, which the guide says taste like a sticky bonfire.

New Yorkers have gone to this old-school Carroll Gardens soda fountain for pretzel sundaes and egg creams for years, but The Infatuation says the winter draw is the hot cocoa. It comes under toasted marshmallow fluff made in house, which the guide describes as a scoop of cotton candy set briefly on fire. Order it that way rather than plain. Time Out prices the toasted marshmallow and the whipped cream as extras and calls the result closer to a winter sundae than a beverage.