As far as cocktail names go, “Green Hot” leaves a bit to be desired—it sounds to me like a gorilla trying to understand a serrano pepper, and while it’s certainly not the least appetizing color/temperature I can think of, it’s not great. But such is the magic of the French language. Would you like a Green Hot? No thanks. How about a Verte Chaud? Need it. Must have it. Similarly with the phrase “after ski,” which contains no magic at all. But “après-ski?” Elegant. Inspirational. Most Americans don’t even know how to pronounce it but want to be a part of it nonetheless.

At the intersection of these two ideas is a warm combination of hot chocolate and the French herbal liqueur Green Chartreuse, allegedly enjoyed as an après-ski cocktail among the more refined peaks of European alpine culture. Whether or not that’s true is another story, but first—as long as we’re talking about French magic, few things loom as large as Chartreuse itself. In a field crowded by lore, half-truths, and marketing copy, Chartreuse distinguishes itself by being the real deal. It really is a secret recipe known to only two French monks, really has been passed down to them through the silent order of Carthusian monks which has been the sole global producer of Chartreuse for the last 288 years or so, and really is made with over 130 ingredients, steeped and distilled and steeped again, aged in oak, bottled in France, and treasured the world over. It is inimitable, beguiling, and unique, a liquid emerald with 130 facets, and my runaway first choice for the finest liqueur ever made on this planet or any other. It’s like Damascus steel or Stradivarius strings, except that it’s still being produced, and you can buy it around the corner.

One of Green Chartreuse’s many charms is that its boundless complexity can be harnessed to many different ends. Sipped neat is a double-barreled blast of herbal intensity, but it also can share the stage with the fruity funk of maraschino in the Last Word, add a breath of leafy verdancy in the Champs Élysées, and deepen tropical fruit and spice in the Chartreuse Swizzle. And, in the case of our cocktail today, add charm and herbal sorcery to hot chocolate in a combination known as the Verte Chaud.

It’s not an obvious move, and if you’re familiar with Chartreuse and still can’t picture the combination, you should know that people absolutely love this drink. “There are few ingredient combinations that generate as much adoration as chocolate and Chartreuse,” says cocktail blogger Tuxedo No. 2. It is “one of the best things ever, and… a perfect holiday cocktail,” says cocktail YouTuber Educated Barfly. Bartender and bar-owner Jamie Boudreau called it “my all-time favorite hot drink,” and he’s Canadian. The chorus of praise is for good reason—hot chocolate is all depth, a low resonant hum through the palate, but add Chartreuse and suddenly you have arcing ribbons of green complexity. It introduces herbs that rise from the chocolate and animates them to dance upon it, dynamic and mercurial, settling in early finish with a comforting mint chocolate-like flavor while its 100 or so minor notes turn in the background. 

Whether or not it is indeed a European après-ski cocktail or whether it just tastes like it ought to be is a subject of some debate, but I should say I don’t care. Nor do I care what it’s called, in what language, or whether I’m clodding around in ski boots when I decide I want one. Some things are of such a quality as to transcend language. Even French.

Verte Chaud

Combine in a pre-warmed mug. Add marshmallows if you want. Sip. Melt.

NOTES ON INGREDIENTS

Green Chartreuse: All of the above words are true of Green Chartreuse specifically, and none other. Not Yellow Chartreuse (it’s milder sibling, distinguished for its yellow color and milder proof, 43 or 40 percent as opposed to the Green’s 55 percent), and not its myriad competitors. That said, all of those others also work pretty well. Boozy Hot Chocolate works. You can also splice it with anejo tequila if you have a mind to.

Cream on Top?: Many recipes, including two of the ones linked to in the above article, call for a bit of cream on top, like an Irish Coffee. I thought I would love this, but I don’t. Even when I made the Hot Chocolate with water as opposed to milk, I still didn’t love it. In an Irish Coffee the cream melds perfectly, but here I thought it stuck out. It tastes too much like cream, as if that makes any sense. I avoid it.

Hot Chocolate: I tried this with grocery-store pre-mixed powder and water, and I also tried it with Valhorona 60 percent dark chocolate and organic local milk. The latter is obviously better, but the former works! Which is to say, make hot chocolate however you have a mind to. Consult the bottom of our Boozy Hot Chocolate article for more details—but, if you’re using Green Chartreuse, ignore the ratio of alcohol to Hot Chocolate in that article, and use the one above; if you’re using Green Chartreuse, you neither need the extra sugar (the liqueur is sweetened) nor the full pour of alcohol (the liqueur is 110 proof).