A central question I have about viral New York City food trends is: Are they essentially good, or bad?
They’re a financial boon for the businesses whose offerings go viral, of course. But what about eaters and food culture on the whole?
Can indulging whatever algorithm that fed me the "Suprême" croissant or raclette sandwich enrich my life, or will it just deaden my own sense of what’s worth tasting?
Basically: Am I lame for wanting to try the s’mores hot chocolate that TikTok is obsessing over?
This was on my mind as I walked up the sunny side of Madison Avenue toward Glace by Noglu, the ice cream store offshoot of the nearby gluten-free bakery Noglu, on a recent Friday afternoon.
Why I wanted to try Glace’s viral hot chocolate
In the ramp-up to the holiday season, my TikTok and Instagram feeds started filling up with “best of” hot chocolate lists. When I spotted an offering from an Upper East Side store called Glace (pronounced like gloss) — topped with a flamboyant rim of brûléed marshmallow fluff — I knew it was going to be big.
By mid-December, Glace’s hot chocolates were everywhere.
The line for the hot chocolate
“TikTok got me again,” proclaimed one fan. “Yes, we went from Williamsburg to 90th and Madison for this,” admitted another.
Folks were waiting upward of 30 minutes, often in freezing weather, to get a taste of the decadent hot chocolate from this tiny shop that opened last June.
Glace’s owner, Sasha, is a Zabar — a family with a NYC track record that speaks for itself. I sensed this was a viral trend worth exploring.
The drink was beautiful, but did it taste good?
The hilarious model-slash-influencer Tyshon Lawrence, who's also declared himself a fan of the treat, put it this way: “Oh, Imma get in trouble for this.”
What it was like to wait
Dodging discarded Christmas trees on my way, I arrived at Glace around 12:30 p.m. There were just 17 people ahead of me in line: a crowd mostly in their 20s and 30s, speaking a variety of languages.
Neighborhood residents trickled by with shopping bags and dry cleaning, bemused by the scene.
Near the curb, a sign reading “S’MORES HOT CHOCOLATE” looked weather-beaten and forlorn, a funny nod to the withering of traditional advertising in the age of social media.
After around 15 minutes, with nearly 20 people now on my tail, I entered Glace to order my s’mores hot chocolate.
I introduced myself to the guy behind the counter, asking if the store operators had been surprised by all the attention.
“Oh, yes,” said Oliver, who turned out to be the owner’s brother. "We had to come up with a system to meet the demand."
Seeing the tray of pre-fluffed-and-torched cups behind him — a small team in a small space moving 1,000 hot chocolates a day — I thought about how exhausted they must be.
After ordering, and quickly receiving my beverage (house-made hot chocolate with a torched fluff rim and a generous scoop of whipped cream in the center) I grabbed Sasha’s contact info from Oliver and struggled my way through the crowd and back outside.
What it was like to drink the hot chocolate
Well, “drink” isn’t the full story.
First I took a bite of the famed marshmallow fluff. I anticipated something like melted, then congealed marshmallows, but it was way lighter both in texture and taste — inspired by the meringue topping Glace uses for ice cream sundaes, Sasha explained to me later.
Now seated at a little curbside table, I watched other customers laugh and snap photos while I took my first sip of the chocolate.
Friends, this hot chocolate is special. With surprising complexity, the drink offers sweetness first, followed by a subtle earthiness you get from dark chocolate. The flavor reminded me more of a rich cake than any hot chocolate I’d ever had before. I loved it.
Understandably, Sasha isn't revealing his recipe. But he told me he uses 56% cacao — which classifies it as semisweet — and tried many types of chocolate before landing on this one. During one of Glace’s sales peaks in December, the chocolate supplier actually ran out of product.
Before the hot chocolates went viral, Glace would sell maybe 60 of them on a given day. Sasha said that, seemingly without warning, daily sales rapidly climbed: 200, 300, 600 and so on. The Saturday before New Year’s scored 1,400 sales.
“You can’t be prepared for this,” Sasha said. “Initially, I didn’t have pots big enough to make that volume of hot chocolate. You don’t realize what will happen when you run out of milk, so you go to the supermarket and buy all the milk they have and you still run out. Every day was busier than the day before.”
In the beginning, Sasha still had a day job at the family company. He’d prep hot chocolate and toppings before and after work, and soon found himself sneaking out in the middle of the day to help his employees. Eventually he had to tell his dad he couldn’t work for him full time anymore. Glace needed him.
On the day I had my hot chocolate, I observed a Mercedes with New York plates pull up, double park and engage the hazard lights. A petite elderly lady got out and shuffled into Glace; by complete chance, the line had temporarily ebbed. Bold, I thought.
I dabbed some whipped cream on my tongue. It was so rich and delicious, almost like eating ice cream, but without the ice. Truly, this was hot chocolate on a new level — more like a three-act play, as a friend of mine declared. Worth the wait and worth every penny.
As I finished my treat, the Mercedes lady reappeared with a fluff-rimmed masterpiece in each hand. At her car, she looked for somewhere to place the prized cups so she could grab the door handle. Bewildered, she started looking to the crowd.
“Do you need help?” I called. Gratefully, she assented, and I trotted over to open the driver's door for her. “Anything to protect those,” I remarked, nodding to the cups.
She got in and handed a cup to her companion, perhaps her husband. A group effort, an act of love. The car remained double parked for at least 10 minutes while they enjoyed their treats.
What to know before you go
There are seven flavors to choose from.
Ranging from $7.50 to $14, options include Salted Caramel, White Chocolate Brulée, and Cookies & Cream. Not all of them include marshmallow fluff, but for me the hot chocolate itself was the star. No matter what you order, I think you’re in good hands.
Grab a spoon and a straw.
Having learned my lesson after a messy Suprême croissant fiasco, I nabbed the utensils Glace had available, and I’m glad I did. You’ll want a straw to sip your drink without covering your nose in toppings and a little spoon to enjoy cream and fluff between sips.
Like everything in life, viral food trends are what you make of them.
While folks may have discovered Glace on social media, no one had their noses buried in their phones: Everyone was chatting and playing. Afterward, I took the opportunity to stroll the neighborhood.
I discovered a jewelry shop I’ll certainly be returning to, and purchased some more health-forward carbs from the Danish chain Ole & Steen — the best bread I’ve had in a while.
Thinking back to 2004, when I first moved to New York and leased a basement apartment on East 85th Street, I reflected on how much my life, and the world, has changed.
